Back Street Dreams Save as PDF
Contents ( 47)
  1. Prologue
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46

I smiled.

“Oh my goodness, Cindy, it is one meeting after another. I go out of my mind. I last six months; then I say forget it and go back to nursing.”

I inwardly smiled, flashing to my own parents. My mother had expected more from my father than just a cop’s salary. Dutiful man that he was, he went to law school, passed the bar, then set up shop with my maternal grandfather, doing wills and estate trusts. He also lasted about six months. “You had no trouble getting your old job back?”

“Yes, I have problem because now Marnie has been promoted to my old position. I let her be in charge as long as they don’t cut my money. They say okay because with nurses, there is always a shortage, especially if you have degrees and specialties. I am a critical-care nurse. I specialize in pediatrics because I like to help the children. In Ethiopia, they do nothing for the children and the babies. We were the last to be given food. We were the first to die.”

“That’s horrible,” I exclaimed.

“It is cruel, but it has to be that way.” His eyes darkened as they intensified. “If the parents starve, who will take care of the children? Who will work? If the mother goes hungry, how can she nurse? You need working adults to keep the family going.”

“I don’t know, Koby. It goes against everything I was taught. But I’ve never lived in a subsistence economy.”

“Baruch Hashem,” Koby stated.

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. Baruch Hashem was an expression that Rina used all the time. It meant “thank God” in Hebrew. To hear those words uttered by a black man was simply incongruous.

Koby smiled. “You know what that means?”

“Yes. I’m not a total Jewish ignoramus.” I sipped coffee, then made a face. I had forgotten it was so bad. “Do you like working here?”

“At Mid-City Peds, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, it is a very, very good hospital. And the doctors care so much. Why else would they work in an inner-city hospital? As for me, I love the little babies because they represent life. I love life. It is easy to love life after seeing so much death.”

“I can certainly understand that. It must be nice being around something so pure, especially after seeing the worst in human beings.” I thought a moment. “But I’ve also seen lots of heroics, too. In my job, you see both extremes, and often side by side. Like tonight. Someone abandons an infant in a garbage dump, leaving her for dead. Then, by accident, a man hears a cry, and the next thing we know, she’s alive and well.”

“God had different plans for her. I hope you find her mother. Postnatal women need care.”

“I hope so. It’s such a shame because she had options. If she had dropped the infant off in front of a police station or at a hospital, she wouldn’t have committed any kind of crime. And even now, if she gives herself up within seventy-two hours, she’ll escape prosecution. We have laws that protect desperate women.”