"I'm sorry I haven't been a better mom." Her voice stayed flat, which kind of canceled my relief at not getting in trouble.

"Mom. Forget it. You were young when you had me, and things turned out okay. I mean, I knew you cared and stuff. It was just different."

"I was like a sister. And not always a very good one."

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I knew who you were to me."

Tears plopped from my mom's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "Of course it matters. I didn't even raise you myself." Her face scrunched up as if she was in pain. "You're such a good kid. You don't even yell at me or complain."

I looked out the window, but the only view was the brick wall of the hospital. "You're emotional from having the baby, that's all. You should rest."

She grabbed my hand, startling me. "If anything happens to me, make sure that Simon is the one to look after the baby."

"Mom, nothing's going to happen to you." I tried to pry my hand away, but she held on.

"But if something does happen. Simon's his dad. Promise. I don't want Grandma raising him."

"Okay, Mom. Okay."

She dropped my hand and closed her eyes again. "Thanks. Thanks, Jaz. I knew I could rely on you." She smiled weakly. "You should see him. He's darker than you. Simon said he's as black as his daddy's behind."

I giggled at the comment as the evil nurse walked into the room. She marched over to the bed without smiling. I wondered if she'd heard us. I moved aside for the nurse to take my mom's pulse and blood pressure.

"Your husband is on his way from the Level Two nursery," she said as she pulled apart the Velcro straps for the blood-pressure monitor.

"He's not my husband."

The nurse glared at her and then at me. "I heard."

I raised my chin. "Well, glad we've got that little detail established. Anything else you want to know?"

The nurse glowered as she grabbed Mom's wrist, placed two fingers on it, and lifted her other hand with the wrist.w.a.tch on to take Mom's pulse.

"I don't think it's the lack of marriage she disapproves of," I said. "She doesn't like white people who don't stick to their own kind. Or the babies that result."

Mom collapsed farther into her pillows. "Jaz. Don't make trouble."

The nurse's bright red face reminded me of a circus clown. She dropped my mom's hand and wrapped the blood-pressure kit around her arm.

"I'm not making trouble. She's prejudiced."

"I'm not." She glared at me. "Excuse me. I have to take her blood pressure."

I was glad my pressure wasn't being checked. It would be off the charts.

"I'll bring you a robe so you can get up to see the baby," the nurse said to my mom.

She deflated farther into her pillows. "No. I can't. Not yet."

"You need to move around, and your baby needs you." The nurse's voice radiated disapproval. She tapped her nails on the blood-pressure pump.

"She said she can't right now," I interrupted, my voice overly high pitched. Playing grown-up was hard work.

The nurse made a noise in her throat as she made notes in Mom's chart and then gathered her equipment and hurried out of the room.

My mom sat up, wiping under her eyes. "You're doing my dirty work for me now. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not. You need to rest. Don't let that mean nurse bully you."

She sniffled. "I can't even bear to see the baby right now. I don't deserve a baby. He's better off without me in there. Simon can look after him better than I can."

"You're just tired, Mom." I grabbed a Kleenex box from a small table at the end of her bed, and then Simon rushed into the room, sucking all the oxygen from it. My cheeks warmed, remembering the last time I'd seen him. I handed my mom tissues and moved away, leaning back against the windowsill.

"He's doing great, Tara." Simon bent down and kissed her cheek. "He's going to be okay."

"I know," Mom answered, her eerie voice stripped of emotion.

"Hey, Slugger." Simon winked. "So you're a big sister."

"Congratulations," I said formally.

His grin was as wide as his face. "I'm a dad!" He rushed forward and grabbed me, lifting me up and spinning me in a circle. Apparently he'd forgiven me. I wished I could say the same. I went rigid, waiting to be put down, but Simon didn't seem to notice. Finally he plopped me down.

"He's small and he's early, but he's going to be okay." He grinned as if he'd done something really amazing.

I tried not to smile but gave in.

"You want to meet him?" he asked me. He glanced at Mom. "Is that okay, Tara? Can I take Jaz down to see him? You can stay here and rest."

I shook my head, but Mom nodded, almost disappearing into her pillows and closing her eyes again.

"Come on." Simon leaned over and kissed Mom's cheek and then grabbed my hand and pulled. "Come on. I'll introduce you to your brother. Get some sleep, Tara. I'll take Jaz to meet our baby."

Before I could protest, he tugged me out of the room. "I'm sorry about the other day, Jaz. I understand why you blew up at me. Your dad-and then me, all complaining about your mom, and well, I'm sorry. I should never have said anything to you. It was stupid." He dragged me along. "Let's forget it, okay?"

He babbled on, giving me too many details about my mom's water breaking at work and her fast delivery, her pushing starting in the car. When we reached the neonatal room, his voice lowered.

"He's in the NICU. Some of the babies inside are really small, but he won't be here for long. The nurses and doctor are concerned about his liver. But he'll be okay. Come on. He's over here."

He tugged me past some heartbreakingly fragile babies attached to tangled wires, tubes, and IVs. The room was a blur of machines, lights, and alarms.

"That's him." He pointed inside an incubator.

I gasped. I gazed down at my tiny brother. Patches of kinky black hair covered his teeny head, which seemed too big for his thin body. Little probes poked into his dark skin. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his head lay sideways as if breathing was a challenge for someone so little. My heart melted like chocolate in sunshine. Sweet. Delicious.

As I stared down at him, a surge of love and protectiveness pulsed through my blood.

My baby brother. I loved him.

"He's gorgeous," I whispered to Simon. "He's so tiny."

"I know," he answered.

The two of us stood in front of the incubator, staring in amazement at the little creature. Before long, Grandma arrived to see her grandson. We all stood in awe, admiring him in his little incubator.

"It's late," Grandma finally said. "They'll be kicking us out."

We went back to Mom's room to say good-bye, but she didn't open her eyes while we were there. We left the hospital, and Simon headed home to sleep for a few hours and to pick up baby supplies and a change of clothes for Mom.

I was worried about my mom, but Grandma told me she'd be fine. I had no choice but to believe her.

chapter fifteen.

Good morning," Grandma said when I finally crawled out of bed. It was past noon.

Grandma sat perched on her stool at the kitchen island with the Tadita Standard unfolded in front of her. "I made some m.u.f.fins. Help yourself." She pointed to a plate stacked with homemade baking on the kitchen table. I sniffed the air. Apple cinnamon.

"Simon called earlier. The baby's doing better than they expected. He shouldn't be in the hospital too long. Maybe two weeks."

I waited to see if she'd say more, but obviously Simon hadn't mentioned our fight at McDonald's. And most likely wouldn't.

"That's good, isn't it?" I asked.

"It's good," Grandma answered.

We smiled at each other as I headed for the fridge and pulled the door open to root inside for milk.

"Too bad the same can't be said for your mom." Grandma sighed.

I grabbed the carton of milk and glanced back at Grandma. "What'd you mean?"

"The baby needs her, but she's acting all dramatic and helpless."

I didn't comment. I'd learned to stay out of the struggles between Mom and Grandma. Grandma could be pretty hard on Mom sometimes. Grandma was happy about the baby, but that didn't stop her from being critical. In my opinion, my mom deserved a bit of a break. She'd just given birth.

I poured myself a gla.s.s of milk.

"You going to work today?" Grandma asked.

"Yup. At three," I told her.

"Oh. They're sending your mom home today. Simon said she hasn't slept a wink in the hospital." She made a tsking sound.

I ignored her, focusing on my milk, and went to the kitchen table and sat, reaching for a m.u.f.fin.

"Your mom hasn't even visited the baby in the NICU."

I lowered my head and bit off a chunk of m.u.f.fin.

"He should be bonding with his mother. Poor baby." Grandma shook her head and tsked again. She flipped a page of her paper. "At least she's pumping milk for him. She said she's going to breast-feed."

I chewed and shrugged. I had no desire to get involved in a debate about Mom's parenting skills. Grandma waited for encouragement to go on, but I said nothing.

"Would you like to go and visit before your shift at work?"

I didn't want to face the evil nurse or deal with Simon. "No. I have calculus homework I need to finish and I have to work tomorrow too."

Grandma nodded. "I need Grandpa's car to go to the hospital," she reminded me.

"Maybe you could drop me off. I could study at Grinds before my shift."

I'd done more than my fair share of homework at Grinds.

Grandma glanced at the clock. "Can you be ready to go in an hour?"

"Yup. I'll shower and change after I eat."

She pulled out a new section of the paper and laid it flat in front of herself.

"Oh. I almost forgot. Some handsome boy dropped off your guitar this morning. Said he was a friend of yours from work."

My face heated up. "Oh."

"Why'd he have your guitar?"

I dropped my eyes. "I left it with him last night. He drove me to the hospital."

"You were with a boy after karaoke last night?"

I didn't answer since it seemed rather obvious. Her eyes didn't leave me.

"Oh. Well, he seemed polite. He said to tell you h.e.l.lo."

She had no idea how polite. So polite he'd managed not to laugh in my face when I'd practically thrown myself at him. I felt like puking and put the m.u.f.fin down.

I was glad when Grandma turned her attention back to her paper.

I left the kitchen and found my cell and called Ashley. She didn't pick up, and I didn't leave a message. I'd handle it on my own. Like I always did.