“Absolutely,” Heidi Morgan replied warmly. “Give us a call when you've made your arrangements. I have been in contact with Detective Moody and Sergeant Martinez. Everyone is pretty excited, Blue. This kind of thing doesn't happen very often.”
I promised I would be in touch and disconnected the call, collapsing onto my old recliner where it rested beneath the vent, awaiting another late night symphony. I tried to calm my racing heart and breathe through the nerves that had me biting my nails and tapping my feet against the floor. I needed to tell someone. I needed to tell Wilson. But he wasn't home, and I was mad at him. Without pausing to talk myself out of it, I grabbed the keys and headed out the door. I would go see Tiffa.
Tiffa's building had a doorman, and I supposed that was good because he warned Tiffa I was on my way up, giving her time to compose herself in the face of my surprising visit. But she answered the door immediately and pulled me into the house with a fierce hug and a wide smile.
“Blue! You twit! Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I would have ordered lunch and champagne to celebrate! And I would have had a chance to change my blouse! Melody spit up all over it. She spits up on everything, so be warned. At the very least I could have changed her nappies so she could make a good first impression! As it is, you are going to have to put up with us as we are – smelly and hungry!” Tiffa's laughter floated around me like a balmy breeze, and I relaxed immediately, letting her pull me toward the bedroom.
Melody's nursery looked like a garden with butterflies and birds fluttering on the walls and perched on the branches of blossomed trees. A chipmunk poked his head from a hole in the trunk, and a family of rabbits hopped along the wall above the the plush pale green carpeting. The ceiling was a blue sky, peppered with fat white clouds and a flock of tiny geese flying in V formation. A wise old owl looked down from a branch that stretched above the crib, which was draped in seafoam green canopy, sprinkled in little pink flowers, like a little hill in springtime. There were stuffed animals straight out of the movie Bambi lining the edges of the room, and a giant white rocker brimming with flower-shaped pillows took up another corner.
It was absolutely enchanting. Every little girl should have a room like that. But it was the baby in the crib that held my attention. She gurgled and kicked her chubby legs. The black hair that she had at birth had morphed into a lighter brown, and she had easily doubled in size. I had only seen her for a few seconds, but those seconds were burned in my brain. This baby looked very different tfrom the image in my head. But her eyes were blue. She smiled and wiggled, arms and legs churning, and I found myself smiling back, blinking through eyes that had suddenly filled with tears. The regret that I had feared, that I had dreaded, that had kept me away, didn't crash down on me like I thought it would. The tears in my eyes felt more like relief than sorrow, and I clung to Tiffa's hand, grateful for her in a way I would never be able to put into words.
“She is . . . so . . . so..” I stammered
“Perfect,” Tiffa finished, her own eyes shining with tears as she put her arms around me and squeezed me fiercely. “Perfect. Dirty nappies and all. Let me change her bum so you can hold her.”
In three months, Tiffa had become a pro, changing the diaper with deft hands and whisking it all away while she cooed and talked to Melody, whose eyes stayed trained on her face. Tiffa let me powder Melody's wrinkly pink tush, and we both sneezed loudly when I got a little carried away.
Tiffa laughed. “You do it just like Jack. He says you can never have too much baby powder. When Daddy's on duty, Melody gives off a little fragrant poof every time she kicks.”
Tiffa scooped Melody up and set her in my arms.
“Here. You rock the wee one while I get her bottle.” Tiffa patted my cheek, dropped a kiss on Melody's flyaway hair, and was out of the room before I could protest. I sat stiffly on the edge of the rocker. Not counting the few seconds after Melody's birth, I had never held a baby. I tried not to hold her too loosely or too tight, but her face wrinkled in dissatisfaction and her lower lip jutted out, as if she were preparing to howl.
“Okay, okay. You don't like that position. We can adjust!” I rushed to oblige, holding her so her head bobbed above my shoulder, one of my hands on her bottom, one hand pressed against her back. She promptly latched onto my cheek and started sucking frantically. I yelped, pulling away, and she reattached herself to my nose.
“Tiffa! Help! She's got my nose!” I laughed, trying to disengage from the little blood sucker. She immediately started to wail, and I turned her around so she was facing outward, her head against my chest. I bounced her a little and walked around the room, talking to her the way Tiffa had.