Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

response, no flush of life. Claire was elsewhere, beyond his reach.
    He stood there so long that the social worker had to take his arm. "Would you like to see the baby now?" she asked gently.
    Jules shook his head. "That can't be necessary. I can't identify a baby I never saw before. Just have them bury it with her."
    "But— I did tell you. Didn't you understand? The baby's doing very well. She's in the special care unit but it's just a precaution. She will be fine."
    ****
    The little creature was asleep in a big plastic box with a tube in her nose and a drip in her wrist. She looked wrinkled and vulnerable. She had a funny little face with a pursed up mouth and tightly closed eyes. He couldn't see Claire in her at all. She looked exactly like any other baby, as far as he could tell. Still, he admired her persistence. It was hard to believe that Claire with all her crazy energy was dead and yet this little scrap had survived.
    They made him rub gel on his hands, then they encouraged him to reach through a hole in the side of the box. He touched the baby's cheek just as he had touched Claire's. Like Claire, she didn't wake, but she was warm and he could see her snuffling and twitching in her sleep.
    They had dressed her in something pink and white. He wondered if it belonged to the hospital, or if Claire had picked it out in a shop, not knowing that she would never see her baby wearing it. But it was better not to think about Claire.
    He sat beside the plastic box watching the baby for a while. He wondered what would happen to her. Some family would adopt her, he supposed: in spite of his feeling that this was all unreal, he worried a little when he thought of everything that could go wrong for her. She looked so defenseless.
    He left when a nurse came to check on her. The first thing he did when he got back to the car was to look for his phone. There were no messages from Claire, just two from the hospital, asking him to call. He knew now that she had died around ten, just as his plane was taking off. If he had been near enough to arrive last night... but he hadn't been, and from England he couldn't have got there in time to see her even if he'd borrowed a car and driven all night. That should have made him feel better, but it didn't. Her voice on the phone haunted him: "I'm frightened, Juju."
    He sent a text to Mark: "My sister is dead. The baby is alive. Life is bizarre. From Uncle Jules."
    'Uncle Jules': why had he written that, he wondered? Of course technically he was her uncle but with Claire gone, it seemed unlikely that he would see much of his niece.
    He stood there in the October sun holding the phone until it vibrated with the answer: "I'm so sorry. Take all the time you need. Things are fine here, but call me any time you want, day or night. Thinking of you."
    They had given him Claire's things, including her keys. He let himself into her apartment. It was as untidy as ever, but strangely airless.
    She had left him a note on the table, telling him that she planned to call the baby Nicole after their mother. There were other papers there too. She'd had a will drawn up by a notary: that was uncharacteristically efficient of her. It named him, Jules, as the baby's guardian in the event of her death. He wondered if she'd had a premonition.
    He knew Mark would be busy and tried not to call too often but sometimes he couldn't resist the temptation, including once late at night when he couldn't sleep. He was staying in Claire's apartment: not in her bed, that felt too weird, but on cushions on the living room floor. Mark reassured him about the restaurant: he had hired an agency chef who was working well with Carrie and everything was fine. But that wasn't why Jules called. He just needed to hear that calm English voice.
    Jules's two aunts and a handful of cousins came for the funeral. Claire's friend Monique was there and she offered, almost greedily, to take care of Nicole. Jules was polite but he had never liked Monique and he couldn't completely forgive her for being out of town on that night when Claire needed her. He thought too that if Claire had wanted Monique to have Nicole she would have said so in her will. So he hesitated, even though Monique was in a good position, married and not working, with a small child of her own.
    Monique wasn't the only person who wanted Nicole. The social worker suggested foster parents; one of his cousins wanted to adopt her and another offered to look after her 'until