Chapter 6 Daisy - Florence Nightingale
DAISY Florence Nightingale
It had been only three hours since our tiny Jane Doe had burst onto the scene.
And it was already breaking my heart that she hadn’t had any visitors.
One of the best parts about working with high-risk babies was getting to know the families, feeling the love from people who wanted nothing more in the world than for their little ones to thrive, teaching them how to help and care for their infants.
I usually spent a lot of time telling exhausted parents and grandparents to go home, get a shower, get some rest. Now, nothing.
I sighed. It wasn’t the first time this had happened on my watch recently.
It was disheartening to say the least. My heart clenched thinking of my last little patient in Charlotte.
I knew he was why I had come here. But it wasn’t running away, I reminded myself.
How it wasn’t, I wasn’t sure, but I had work to do and couldn’t dwell on it.
I scooped up my girl from under the bilirubin light—she would be my girl until we found her parents—and fed and rocked her.
“What a first day!” Laura said, bursting into the nursery, where two other babies were contentedly sleeping. “I mean, Daisy, we almost never have exciting things happen around here!” She ran her hands through her hair like she needed to find something to do with them.
I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, but, also, I wasn’t sure I would qualify this as “exciting.” More like heartbreaking.
Our Jane Doe was looking up at me, wide-eyed and curious, and I felt a little surge of love for her.
What kind of mother could just abandon her child?
I liked to pretend I didn’t know the answer.
“I’m sorry,” Laura said, reading my face. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She shrugged. “But I guess I feel like this is all some sort of misunderstanding, that we’ll find her parents, and all will be well.”
I nodded. “I really hope you’re right.”
“And to think that Mason Thaysden found her,” Laura said, shaking her head.
I raised my eyebrows, trying to hide the fact that my heart thudded at the mention of the very handsome rescuer.
She laughed. “Oh, I know he’s cute. But that one’s trouble, believe you me. You can ask any woman in this town, and I’d defy you to find a dissenting opinion.”
Well… That didn’t sound good. Before I could ask for more, another patient stirred, and Laura scooped him up with an expert touch. “Is it time for a change, big guy?”
She brought the preemie, who made our little Jane Doe look huge in comparison, close, and I noticed a raspberry on his cheek, a tiny birthmark that would fade in the coming weeks.
Pain shot through me, and I had to look away.
To most people, babies just look like babies.
But, to us, the few who get to know so many of them, they begin to look shockingly unique.
Nurse Sandy bustled in and gave me a scolding look.
“Young lady, your shift ended fifteen minutes ago.” There it was again, that mixture of scolding and amusement.
I suspected some people found Sandy intimidating, but I loved her right away.
I liked to know where I stood with someone.
In friendships, in romantic relationships, and, most especially, at work.
I stroked Jane Doe’s cheek. “I can stay,” I said softly. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone again the day she was born, a day full of so much trauma.
Laura came close to me on one side, and Sandy on the other. “Daisy,” Laura said gently. “We’ll take care of her. You know we will.”
It was only my first day, but I did know. This was a group of women who valued every little life like it was their very own. Sandy nodded. “She’ll be okay.”
I willed myself to clear my mind, to steel myself, to think of math equations so as not to cry. I would not cry on my first day at a new job. I nodded slowly, still not moving. “She must be so traumatized, you know?”
Laura nodded. “I know. What she’s been through—”
Sandy was the voice of reason: “Ladies, she is maybe ten hours old. She is safe now, and she will be fine.”
She wasn’t playing around. My shift was over.
Time to leave. I knew it wasn’t a good look to be this attached to my first patient.
But I knew these women knew what I had experienced in Charlotte, so I also figured they might understand my being a little clingy.
Sandy reached for the baby, and I let her take her this time.
I squeezed her little socked foot and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jane Doe. Get some rest.”
Sandy put her arm around me and squeezed me to her so quickly I wasn’t totally sure it had happened. “It gets easier,” she said. “I promise. The first few patients are the hardest.”
I turned quickly, afraid that if I didn’t rush out, she would see the tears pooling in my eyes. To ease my heartache, I called the man I loved most: my dad.
He answered on the first ring, as he always did when he wasn’t working. “What’s shaking, Florence Nightingale?” he asked.
I smiled. He loved calling me the names of famous nurses. It was cheesy, but it was cute. Such a “dad” thing to do.
“Daddy, I had an abandoned baby on my very first day of work.”
He let out a low whistle. “No way, kiddo. In Cape Carolina?”
“Can you believe that?”
I walked quickly to my car, looking around, aware of my surroundings. Dusk was falling on Cape Carolina, but it wasn’t dark yet. And then I remembered: Crime rates were almost nonexistent here. Of course, it always paid to be vigilant. Even so, I felt myself relax.
“So what do you do?”
Take her home, I thought. I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it because, frankly, that is what I wanted to do. Take her home and love her to pieces forever and always. But I would not, because nurses didn’t take home babies, and, um, it was against the law.
“Well, we hope they find her parents, but, I mean, Dad, they left her in a dumpster behind a high school. What kind of parents could those even be?”
He made a low, one-syllable noise that I recognized. We knew people left their kids all the time. We’d lived it. “Well, all I know is that she’s lucky to have you taking care of her.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. And then he asked, as I knew he would, “So, when are you coming home?”
“Coming home?” I asked. “Dad, I live at the beach. When are you coming here?”
“Well, honey, I thought you’d never ask.”
“Want to come break in my new guest room? Over Easter, maybe?”
He paused, and I knew what he was thinking. I unlocked the car and climbed inside, realizing I didn’t have the energy to go to the grocery store. Fortunately, Laura had told me about a great grab-and-go place with salads and homemade pastas and casseroles that didn’t close until eight.
“Daddy!” I scolded. “It is Easter. You can close the body shop for a few days. Ask Phil to fill in for you.” Phil was my uncle, who, like a sensible person, had retired when it was time.
Still, I understood my dad’s reluctance to do the same.
What would he do? He’d be all alone. He could move here, of course, but I knew without asking that he would never leave the family land he’d lived on all his life in a small town just an hour and a half from here.
He sighed. “I’ll come sometime soon. I promise. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said.
I knew Easter was one of his busiest weeks of the year and a visit then was a long shot. But I had to try.
“Now, you text me when you’re home safe tonight.”
“I will, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I pulled into the market parking lot, suddenly deciding I needed soup.
The phone call from my dad had helped. But, thinking of Jane Doe, with no parents coming to visit her, made me feel suddenly cold.
But I couldn’t get this caught up in every patient, I reminded myself.
Tonight, I would go home, eat my soup, and get myself situated, find a workout class that would fit into my schedule.
Maybe I’d sign up for a painting or pottery class if I could find one.
Making new friends, getting into a routine, and creating a life I loved here was my top priority right now.
I had always just adored this beach. Now it was up to me to make it feel like home.