With a smile she nods. “You’re right. We’re going to go buy a car now?”
“The Ferrari won’t hold a baby seat. We can’t keep cabbing it and using Uber.”
A few hours later we’re home with the prescriptions we had dropped off. Amelia wants to give Simone her treatment as soon as possible before we go see Holly.
We both wait with apprehension to see some sign of improvement. Simone seems a little more alert. I’m not convinced, especially when I remember the nurse telling us to further dilute the solution for the breathing treatment since Simone was small. There was adrenalin in the solution that could be too much for her if we didn’t.
While Holly and Amelia are in awe over Simone, Ethan and I go into his office. “How bad is it?”
He shrugs. “Not bad at all. The woman wants money, she doesn’t want Simone. It will cost you, but I don’t think it will be as expensive as you’re worried about. Valdez has her tracked by the cell phone number you gave, which is good, and he’s got two men on her. He sent over a preliminary report this morning, but it’s by no means the whole story. Theresa only decided to come out now because of Amelia. I don’t think you guys saw the writeup on Amelia the Tribune did after she and I went to opening day to see you play.
“People knew who I was, but I never talked about my parents. I talked about my uncle paying for my education, which was why I set up scholarships for kids. When they went nosing around the firm for info on Amelia, everyone knew Amelia was a trust fund baby. In the writeup they paint Amelia as what she is, a golden good girl from a one percent family, how Amelia doesn’t have to work a day in her life if she didn’t want to.
“Purely supposition, Theresa thinks she’ll get more with Amelia involved, willing to hand over some of her one percent money. Remember, no one knows how much you are worth. With your real estate investments held in corporation away from the baseball money and stock investments we know you’re worth a hundred and thirty-three million. As far as the press is concerned, you’re only worth about thirty-seven million. While that’s impressive and enough to get knocked up for a payout, Theresa saw big dollar signs combining Amelia’s money and the mother instinct. We’re sure it’s why she left Simone for the week, to get you both attached, willing to pay any amount she wants.”
I nod. “I’d give her every dime I ever made to keep Simone.”
“I’m not going to let the bitch get away with a penny more than necessary. She’s trying to grift the wrong fucking family. No. Valdez thinks he’ll have everything we need by tomorrow. His team is almost done retrieving everything electronic, he’ll send over everything on that end tonight. You are listed on the birth certificate as the father.”
It kills me to ask, “What’s her birth date?”
“November tenth, at seven thirty-three. She weighed six pounds two ounces.”
***
Amelia
Simone is starving again. I feel like a bad mom for letting her get to the point where she’s starving. I am feeding her every three hours, but every time after only about ten minutes she gives up. I don’t care if it’s only been a day. The doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about, this isn’t asthma, something else is wrong. It’s almost four thirty, and the office closes soon. Grabbing my phone, I call the office.
The nurse is bored, telling me to give the breathing treatments longer to work. I demand to speak to the doctor, and I get a promise he’ll call back. Fuck this.
“Chris,” I call out to Simone’s room, where he was putting together a shelving unit he bought today to fit all the books he bought her when we went out for lunch. “I’m done. We’re going to the emergency room.”
He comes down the stairs, his worry clear. “Why?” Looking down at Simone, his eyes glow as he touches her face. “What’s the matter?”
“She isn’t eating, she is starving. Those breathing treatments aren’t helping. The doctor’s office isn’t listening. No, not another dang day of this. We’re going to Northwestern emergency room, now.”
“Okay, okay. Get her bundled up and let’s go.”
When we get to the emergency room, it isn’t very busy, which is a relief. I give my name and tell the attendant what’s wrong. She looks at me for a minute before asking if I’m the Amelia Bishop who gifted the hospital with an MRI machine last year. I blush as I nod.
It’s the reason why I wanted to come here, not because I paid three million for a new MRI machine. The reason I bought the new machine was an article about a young mother who went to four different doctors who said there was nothing wrong with her son when she knew there was. Out of frustration, the next time he was ill she brought him here, to Northwestern emergency, and a doctor made the call to do an MRI even though she was low income and other doctors hadn’t bothered, saying it was too expensive. The MRI found the problem and her son was healthier and happier.
We’re whisked into the back in mere minutes. The nurse is friendly but it’s obvious she’s thinks I’m being overprotective. Then she listens to Simone’s chest. At first she is just going through the motions, her actions almost exactly that of the doctor from yesterday. But she goes still, pressing the stethoscope more firmly against Simone’s tiny chest. She writes down something, then listens again with her eyes on her watch. Her eyes don’t quite meet mine as she tells me a doctor will be right with us.
I scoop up Simone, holding her tight, not even bothering to get her dressed again. She’s swimming in the cute long-sleeved pink shirt and matching pants anyway. Under the pants and shirt, she has on a plain white onesie Barbara encouraged me to always have her wear because it was common for babies to get their top clothes dirty, and at least the short-sleeve little onesie would still be clean. They were also easy for days around the house when it was warm.
“I knew it. You saw how quiet she got.”
Chris pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around us. “It’s going to be okay. This is the best hospital in all of Illinois. They’ll figure it out.”
Maybe ten minutes later a smiling Asian doctor comes into the room. “Hi, I’m Louise Jin. I’m a pediatric cardiologist here. I hear you’re concerned about baby Simone. She’s a stunner. May I take her, so I can give her a look over?”
I freeze when she tells me she’s a cardiologist. She’s not a regular doctor. Although I nod, I find it hard to give her Simone. Chris gives me a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay, sugar. Let her look at Simone.”
The doctor smiles reassuringly as she takes Simone. My eyes go to Chris, ocean blue churning violently as his eyes meet mine. He nods, understanding my fear. We watch as she runs her hands over Simone. Her method is a replay of Barbara’s the very first day, holding Simone’s tiny hand then running her hands over the small body, then holding on to small feet as her thumb runs over tiny toes. She takes off the stethoscope around her neck, tucks it into her ears and presses it against Simone’s chest. I’m afraid to breathe as I watch. Yet the whole time she’s smiling down at Simone, teasing Simone’s tiny nose, holding her hand. Until she looks up. “It’s a good thing you brought her in. Something is wrong, we need to do more tests.”
“What, what are you thinking?”