With a firm grip, Darlene lifted the infant from the scales, placed her on the table, and rewrapped her in her blanket. The baby’s loud outbursts quieted to whimpers. On the table was a tray of instruments and a stack of charts. Placing a firm hand on the infant’s stomach, Darlene scanned through the pile until she found BG Rodriguez’s records. She flipped through the papers, looking for additional instructions or orders from the pediatrician. Finding nothing of significance, she wrote in the time and the latest weighing.

The baby was now fully awake, black eyes trying to focus, legs kicking under the covers. Darlene chucked her chin, then carefully liberated a little foot from the swaddle of the blanket.

Tiny foot—as small and soft as a ladyfinger. Little red toes.

Again Darlene took a quick peek over her shoulder. She felt her shoulders tighten as she reached for the instrument tray. It was always tense with the first one. Holding the foot firmly in her grasp, the charge nurse held her breath as she jabbed a razor-sharp needle into the pad of the baby’s heel.

Decker’s own snoring woke him up. He heard himself snort and grunt, then he shook his head in a weak attempt to dislodge his stupor. His bones hurt; his muscles ached with rigidity. He managed to open his eyes, light flooding his retinas. It took him a moment to focus, and when he did, he was shocked to see Rina’s eyes upon him. Quickly, he sat up, swinging his stiff legs over the edge of the cot. He took her hand and kissed it.

“Morning, darling.” He looked at the wall clock. Five fifty-two—morning only in a technical sense. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. It was hot and dry. “How do you feel?”

Rina’s lids fluttered, but she kept her eyes open. “How’s…our baby?”

“Gorgeous!” Decker tried to sound upbeat. “Beautiful just like you.”

“Tell me.”

“Well…” Decker cleared his throat. “She’s big and robust and beautiful and alert. Definitely the best kid in the whole hospital.”

Rina’s lips formed a weak smile. “I want to hold her. Hold my baby.” Her eyes grew wet. “But I can’t, can I?”

“Of course you can hold her. You’ll spend hours holding her. But first you’ve got to recuperate.”

“From the surgery,” Rina whispered.

“Yes, from the surgery,” Decker said. “Go back to sleep, honey. It’s the best thing for you now.”

Rina turned away, then faced him again. “Something’s…” She swallowed hard. “Something’s wrong, Peter.”

“I’ll call the nurse—”

“No,” Rina cried hoarsely. “That’s not what I meant.”