The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag: All Washed Up: (Book 3 in the Misadventures of the Laundry Hag series) (2 page)

 Seriously,
he
was asking
me
? “How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve never dealt with a newborn. Kenny was almost a year old when I came on the scene. And he was already fully equipped. Haven’t you done this before?”

 “No, my mother and Amber did it all.”

 We stared at each other in a moment of total horror. How could two semi-competent people with teenage kids be so inadequately prepared for the arrival of a baby?

 Neil came to some sort of decision. “Basics then. Food, clothing, shelter.”

 Sounded simple enough. “Shelter is more or less covered. Food, okay, is Penny going to be breast feeding or do we need to buy formula?”

 Neil’s eyes went wide. “Do you really expect me to know the answer to that?”

 I wrinkled my nose. Yeah, somehow I couldn’t see Penny dishing lactation with my former SEAL. “Moving on. Clothing is diapers and wipes, plus pants, shirts, socks. Normal people clothes in miniature. Cripes, why didn’t we get on this sooner?”

 “No time for recriminations now. Let’s each take a task.”

 We split up, Neil in charge of diapers while Kenny searched for wipes and I made a beeline for baby clothes. A sea of bright colors flooded my field of vision. It hit me like a piano from the sky. This little person, my helpless niece or nephew, had nothing, not a single thing in the world. I was in charge of getting baby’s first everything. But what to buy? What would he/she need to start out from scratch?

 I’d been to a few baby showers before, listened to other women ooh and ah and say isn’t that cute so many times it sounded like a room full of Stepford Wives with verbal ticks. I was a jeans and T-shirts sort myself, with the occasional slinky black dress thrown in to mix things up. The multitude of bonnets, overalls, jumpers and onesies just didn’t gel.

 A tiny octogenarian in a blue vest was hanging cute little dresses on a rack. I altered my course and aimed for her full steam ahead.

 “Can I help you?” She smiled sweetly at me.

 “God, I hope so. My brother is having a baby and—”

 “Oh how, lovely,” she cooed, giving me a full frontal of the coral lipstick on her dentures. “Boy or girl?”

 “We don’t know yet. But I need to buy some clothing. Some of everything a newborn needs. Can you help me, um…?”

“Edith.” She pointed at her
Hello, my name is
badge. I felt like a jackass for overlooking it.

“Nice to meet you, Edith. I’m Maggie. Can you help me?” Question of the decade.

“You’ve never had a baby?” She eyed me critically.

Under normal circumstances I would have cracked a joke about how they’re crunchy and delightful with ketchup, but Edith didn’t look like the type to get my whacked-out sense of humor so I just answered with a firm, “No.”

“Well, don’t leave it too long, dear. My friend Thelma, God rest her soul, her daughter waited until she was forty to get married and then she couldn’t do it the natural way and she spent a thousand dollars to get that…oh, what’s it called?”

I stared blankly, afraid to make a suggestion.

She tapped her chin and I noticed an extra-long whisker that curled down from her lip. Scary. “Oh, I know this. Ah,
envitrio
fertilization, that’s it!”

“Sure,” I muttered, unwilling to sully her triumph.

“Anyway, she wound up with
six
babies, all at once. Just two short of that Octomom character. Can you imagine?”

Right now that sounded like the sixth circle of hell, the level right above Walmart. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, can we deal with the baby who is actually coming?”

Another flash of the coral chompers, which I took for an agreeable smile. “Of course, dear. Now, you’ll need diapers and wipes, rash cream, onesies, socks, booties, a sleeper pouch, long sleeve T-shirts, pants….” As she wandered off down the aisle, still prattling, she snagged assorted items and shoved them into my arms.

 I juggled the load and bumped into Josh, new mitt in hand. “For the love of God, grab a cart!” I hissed.

 He rolled his eyes in the way only an adolescent boy can. “Chillax, Mom. Baby won’t explode if you forget something.”

 Next life, I intended to come back as a twelve-year-old boy. They didn’t worry about anything beyond the next action movie or shoot-em-up video game.

 Over by the entertainment section, a couple wearing stained sweats argued over a five dollar DVD. A flock of working moms sent each other dangerous looks as they raced through the grocery section at warp speed. An elderly man wearing a Panama Jack hat was within seconds of an apoplectic fit as he tried to work the check out your own stuff aisle.
One Direction
bleated from the tinny speakers and I was fairly sure my helper and the wheelchair-bound greeter at the front door were they only people who worked in the store.

 “My head might explode if I have to come back here. Cart. Now.”

 “—try to keep it gender neutral since you don’t know which it is yet,” Edith continued. Obviously, she’d missed our exchange.

 I scanned a nearby table display and picked up a three pack of onesies in earth tones that ranged from pale gold to chocolate. “Like this?”

 The woman shook her head. “Oh no, honey. Brown is the new pink.”

 “What happened to the old pink?” Neil had arrived, a giant box of diapers under each arm.

 “It’s the color formerly known as pink. Now just a symbol. Where’s Kenny?”

 Neil tipped his head to the side and nodded back the way he’d come. “He wanted to know what kind of wipes.”

 “There are different types? You’re shitting me.”

 “Try the sensitive skin ones,” My tiny savior recommended. “Better safe than sorry, I always say. Now Louise Van Hatten’s granddaughter….”

 Josh reappeared, with a cart. It had a crooked wheel that squeaked on every rotation. My eyelid twitched in time to the sound.

 “Can I get M&M’s?” Josh asked.

 I dumped the stuff into a cart and swung it around. “Yeah. Hurry up!”

 “I’ll help Kenny.” Neil dropped his load and sprinted back the other direction.

 “Don’t forget the butt gunk!” I shouted after him. A couple strolling by cast me a wide-eyed look.

 “How are you set up for equipment?” my helper asked.

 Equipment? I goggled.

 “Crib, changing table, car seat. You know you can’t bring a baby home from the hospital unless you have a properly installed car seat.”

 “Dear God.” How had I ever thought we were prepared for this?

 Several hundred dollars poorer and with the camper crammed to the roof with Walmart shopping bags, we finally made it to the hospital. We charged into the maternity ward like a herd of wildebeests, only to draw to a stop when we saw the flurry of activity outside Penny’s room.

 Marty, dressed in surgical scrubs, shifted anxiously from foot to foot as a bevy of hospital personnel scrambled to and fro.

 “Sprout?” The nickname, the one my mom had christened him with as a teenager when growing fits caused him to sprout out of his clothes biweekly, left my lips automatically. He appeared as gangly and lost now as he had when our parents died. My spine froze as the medical scents permeated my olfactory sense. I swallowed and focused on my brother. “What’s wrong?”

 Marty didn’t look at me, his gaze was fixed on the door. “They’re prepping her for surgery. They keep losing the baby’s heartbeat. It’s so small…it’s too soon.” He took a deep breath and shuddered. “They need to do a C-section.”

 I cursed and struggled for words of reassurance, floundered, then reached for his hand. It was the best I could do.

 I caught sight of Penny as they wheeled her out of her room and down the hall to surgery. She looked painfully young and as frightened as Marty, but smiled faintly when she saw us. Her eyes fixed on him like he was a life preserver. He straightened his shoulders, no longer a lost little boy, but a man with a purpose. Though I still had my doubts about the two of them as a couple and as parents, there was something about that sweet, intimate look. It settled in my heart and raised my spirits. That was the way I’d looked at Neil when we were first married.

 
Yeah, but when was the last time you looked at him that way?
a snarky inner demon prodded.

 As though he’d read my thoughts, Neil took my hand and raised it to his lips. “I see you, Maggie,” he said. We watched as Marty and Penny disappeared around the corner.

 That was what I was afraid of.

Chapter Two

 Hours later, I sat slumped on a waiting room couch that at first glance looked all right but had most definitely been designed by some closet sadist. My back ached, my shoulders throbbed and my ass was completely numb. I’d bet my trashy romance novel collection that Mr. Kline, the man I’d alibied out of his wife’s murder last fall, had one exactly like it in his new home. Wherever that might be. He’d packed up his creepy mansion on the hill and got while the getting was good. Part of me wanted to follow his lead.

 Josh futzed with his smartphone and Kenny sighed for the millionth time. Neil stared at his sneakers with great concentration. I rose, stretched, and moseyed to the waiting room door just for the hell of it. Grunts and cries of labor and the occasional wail of a newborn comingled with the beeps and whirs of various machines and the soft footfalls of medical personnel. I breathed through my mouth, unwilling to accept the scent of hospital into my brain. No good came from hospitals, at least in my experience. If I ended up here it was because someone was dying, or I’d been attacked.

 
But this time will be different,
I told myself sternly.
You’re going to have a little niece or nephew. Happy hospital, good things this time.

 A scream echoed down the corridor, the distinctive sound of what could only be ritualistic disembowelment. A white lab coat appeared fresh from the slaughter and speckled with blood. The world tilted and I swayed precariously and would have gone down if Neil hadn’t caught me.

 “Maybe you should—” he started.

 “I’m fine.” I closed my eyes and breathed in for two beats, out for two, the way Sylvia had shown me. Maggie the squeamish wuss. Hell, I’d just been here a few weeks ago. Treated for my burns. If I could handle that, then waiting for baby Sampson should be a breeze.

 
Should
being the operative word.

 Instead of replying, Neil turned to the boys. “Guys, head down to the cafeteria and grab some food.” He didn’t make it optional.

 At twelve and ten, Josh and Kenny never said no to a meal, especially when I wouldn’t be there to guide their choices. They’d load up on French fries and chocolate cake with nary a green vegetable or apple in sight. Josh plucked the bill from his father’s hand and led the way with a sardonic, “Come on, dorknut.”

 Kenny hesitated at the doorframe. “Is Aunt Penny’s baby going to be all right?”

 I opened my mouth, but couldn’t form an answer. Penny’s estimated due date was at least six weeks away and she’d been seriously lacking in prenatal care until she and Marty came to stay with us. My little niece or nephew would be a preemie, small and perhaps underdeveloped. But lots of babies thrived after a rocky start and she had proper medical care now. Though I desperately wanted to reassure him, I couldn’t flat out lie.

 “We hope so,” Neil said. “We just have to wait and see. Go on.”

 Kenny nodded and scuttled off after his brother. That left the two of us alone.

 He led me to a chair and squatted in front of me. “Maggie,” he began, but my cell phone cut him off mid-sentence. Darth Vader’s theme music was only programmed in for one person, Neil’s mother, Laura Phillips.

 “Ignore it.” I waved a hand at my bag in dismissal.

 “Is that a new one?” He jerked his head toward the
da da da, dum da da, dum da da.
 “Yeah, Josh programmed it for me. It used to be the theme from Friday the 13
^th
.”

 He smiled, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. We waited for Darth to peter out and then stared at each other. It seemed as though I looked at him from a long way away, miles and miles encompassed the chasm between us.

 “This really sucks,” I said.

 “Yeah it does,” he agreed. “I wish I knew how to fix it.”

 He wasn’t the only one. I had no idea when or why this distance had opened up between the two of us. Most likely it was my fault. If only I’d listened to him, I wouldn’t be a scarred mess of a woman.

 And that thought pissed me right off. Damn his sexy hide! Why couldn’t I be in the right for a change instead of the giant problem Neil had to deal with? That he had to fix like I was a broken toy he’d picked up at a garage sale?

 He cupped my hideous hands in his. His tone was pleading as he murmured, “Talk to me, Maggie. Tell me what you need.”

 The scary truth was I had no idea what I needed, what it would take to make me all right again. Hysterical laughter bubbled up and spilled over. Had I ever been all right? Really?

Neil watched my fit, his expression carefully neutral. The man really was perfect. Why did that bother me all of a sudden?

“Damned if I know,” I wheezed.

 
Da da da, dum da da, dum da da,
Darth’s march came again from the vicinity of my bag. Though I knew it wasn’t possible, it sounded angrier than last time. I was probably just projecting, but still I squirmed in my seat like a toddler with a full bladder. “If she’s on a mission, she won’t stop until she gets one of us.”

With a sigh, Neil reached in and retrieved the phone. “Hi, Mom.” He rose and paced to the window where he stared out at the parking lot while he listened to whatever Laura Phillips had to say. “Tonight’s no good—”

 “Not good for what?” I inquired.

 Neil lowered the phone away from his mouth and covered the speaker. “Dinner at their place in Boston.”

 Dinner. Most likely a dinner prepared by my best friend, Leo. Maybe he could help me figure out exactly what my damage was. I sprang to my feet and reached for the phone. “Tonight’s great, Laura,” I hollered.

 “Maggie.” Neil’s tone held a dangerous edge but he let me have the phone.

 “What time?” I turned away so I could ignore the thunderclouds gathering between his brows. He might know best but he couldn’t control me and he damn well knew it. Trying would only give him a migraine.

 “Seven. And bring that friend of yours, the new age person,” Laura commanded. Just like her son, she brooked no nonsense.

 “Sylvia?” Odd. Laura had never invited my neighbor over before. Sure, they’d spoken at our New Year’s Eve party, but I was surprised Laura remembered. My mother-in-law the corporate attorney and my friend the former yoga instructor and current life coach couldn’t have been more different and still both possessed ovaries.

 “That’s the one. We’ll see you all then, dear.” The last word sounded like an expletive rather than an endearment.

 I hung up and spun to face Neil. “Why’d you say no?” I asked at the same time he accused, “Why’d you say yes?”

 “Because,” he gritted out, “we don’t know what’s going on with Penny and the baby. It seemed wiser to postpone whatever she’s scheming until we know what’s what.”

 Sensible, rational and oh so Neil. I took a deep breath and put my hands on my hips. “True, but what can we do, other than stand around and wait? Besides, I want to talk to Leo.”

 “You’ll talk to him but not to me?” The words sounded angry but I saw the hurt in his eyes and guilt clogged my throat.

 “It’s different,” I said. I reached for his hand, saw my own, and then drew them into fists at my sides. “Leo only wants what’s best for me.”

 Neil reared back as though I’d slapped him. “And you think I don’t? Is that what you’re telling me?”

 “No.” I was pooching the conversation. My inarticulate stance mangled the tension between us until it morphed into this horrible twisted beast that craved blood. I retrenched and tried again, “It’s different because Leo doesn’t have a stake in the outcome. You do.”

 He stared at me as though he’d never seen me before. “You don’t trust me.”

 “Yes, I do.” It wasn’t a lie. I did trust him, more than I trusted anyone else, even myself. And that was the crux of the problem. All my faith was in Neil and I had none left over for me.

 He looked ready to go another round, but Marty appeared in the doorway, no blood in sight, thank you, Jesus.

 “She’s here.” My brother staggered on his feet, his face creased with a huge, dopey smile. He practically levitated with joy. “She’s beautiful, so tiny, but perfect.”

I took him in my arms and hugged the stuffing out of him. Relief coursed through me and I thought I might melt into a boneless heap, all the starch gone right out of my backbone at his words. A thought struck and I pulled back. “And Penny?”

He smiled and nodded. “She’s in recovery. She was awake through the whole thing, but they knocked her out after they got the baby out.” He made it sound like a prison break.

My heart went out to the young girl who was both foolish and forgiving enough to love my brother. “Oh, I’m so relieved.”

“
You’re
relieved?” His hands still shook, slight tremors of overwhelming emotion racking his wiry frame. “I was shitting monkeys.”

“That’s both unsanitary and disgusting,” I told him with a stab at our usual banter. Tears blurred my vision and spoiled the lighthearted tone.

“Congratulations.” Neil clapped Marty on the shoulder, about as much affection as I’d ever seen him offer my brother.

“Thanks, brother-man.” Marty grinned like an idiot at Neil, who curled his lip at the revolting nickname.

We waited for Kenny and Josh to return, then waited some more. Finally, A nurse came to tell us Penny was awake and ready for well-wishers and led us all to Penny’s room to visit. The Hudson hospital didn’t have a nursery, so new mothers were expected to “room-in” with their newborns. To me it sounded like torture, especially in Penny’s case where she’d be recovering from both surgery and labor at the same time. Whose bright idea was it to make her immediately responsible for the life she’d spawned while she was still blitzed out on an epidural? But apparently it was a good bonding experience for mother and child.

Plus, no one asked for the laundry hag’s two cents.

Our formerly pregnant princess lay back in bed, holding her new treasure to her breast. She looked both pale and pretty even under the garish fluorescent lighting. Her red-gold curls spilled over the white linens in a fiery mane, but her forehead was wrinkled and her eyebrows scrunched together. The baby flailed tiny fists, obviously unused to so much room to maneuver. Maybe Marty was closer than I’d thought with his jailbreak analogy. Penny looked exhausted, with deep bruises under eyes that glistened with barely leashed tears. A dour looking lactation nurse with a severe case of female pattern baldness hovered over them with a disapproving scowl.

“No, no, you’re not holding her right. Like a football you don’t want to drop. Really get her in there. And you have to relax,” the woman with the South Boston accent criticized as she made a grab for Penny’s breast.

My menfolk were shocked into silence, but the callous treatment of poor Penny’s exhausted body got my dander up. “Hey! What the frigging hell do you think you’re doing?”

Southie turned her pitiless eyes my way and sized me up. Her expression indicated she found me seriously lacking and she squared her linebacker-esque shoulders. “The baby’s premature. She needs to be fed immediately and often so she puts on weight.”

Her words sounded sensible, yet it was her attitude that made me grit my teeth. “But Penny’s just out of surgery. You can give her a few minutes, can’t you?”

Frau Badass crossed beefy arms over her own massive chest, though her build looked more muscle than cleavage. “The baby needs to eat. Breast milk is best, but if the mother doesn’t want to nurse then we need to give her formula.” She flung the words out like a challenge.

“Maggie, it’s okay,” Penny said. A tear escaped. “I want to.”

But I was beyond hearing. The day had been a disaster from the word go. Neil, Walmart, the baby, the hospital and my hands, it was too much. I’d found an enemy I could go toe to toe with and I’d be damned if I just relented. “So why can’t she have both? Start her on the bottle and give Penny time to rest. Then try again later.”