The Nurse's Newborn Gift by Wendy S. Marcus Page A

bib big enough for a toddler. “Plastic is partially responsible for destroying our environment.” No, she wasn’t an environmental activist to the point she’d use cloth diapers, but she limited her use of plastic when possible.
    â€œIt will keep his clothes dry when he starts teething. It was on sale,” Kira said. “I couldn’t resist.” She held up a book on parenting. “When you’re done, I’ll take it.”
    Krissy noted the colorful strips of paper sticking out from between the pages where Kira no doubt highlighted whole sections of outdated parenting techniques. “I will raise J.J. the way I think he should be raised, not according to rules in a book that can’t possibly take into consideration the unique needs of each individual child.”
    This interference had to stop. The time had come for Krissy to take a stand. For days she’d been trying to figure out how to broach the topic in a way that wouldn’t make her seem ungrateful. They were finally on good terms and Krissy didn’t want to ruin that by starting an argument. But she didn’t have room for all the stuff Kira had been bringing over. She preferred to do her own grocery shopping, hated wasting the food Kira brought for her. And she would raise her son the way she darn well pleased.
    â€œJust give it a quick browse,” Kira said. “At least the chapters on teething, toilet training, and discipline. Maybe you’ll learn something helpful.”
    Settling on the straightforward approach, Krissy started an open and honest conversation, hoping for the best. “You want to know why I decided to follow you and make a home for myself in White Plains?” At least for now.
    Kira stopped what she was doing and looked up.
    â€œTo be more of a help with Mom,” Krissy explained. A responsibility she’d neglected, leaving the burden on Kira for way too many years. “To be close to my only family when I gave birth to J.J. in case something horrible happened and I didn’t survive, so he wouldn’t be all alone. And while I appreciate every single thing you have done for me since I had J.J., I did not come here because I need you to take care of me.”
    â€œFine.” Kira started collecting the plastic bags strewn on the floor. “I won’t—”
    â€œStop.”
    Kira didn’t stop. “If you don’t want my help,” she balled up the bags and shoved them under the kitchen sink, “then I won’t help.”
    Krissy had hurt her sister’s feelings. The very last thing she’d wanted to do. “You’re wonderful,” Krissy told her, because she was.
    Kira stopped.
    â€œThe most wonderful sister in the world.” If not for Kira’s fierce determination and willingness to go against the recommendations of several social workers, when she’d been only eighteen, Krissy could have been forced into foster care after their mother’s severe brain injury. But Kira had held their little family together. Krissy still didn’t know where she’d found the courage and stamina to do it. “But this is starting to feel like Murray all over again, and I have no intention of giving you J.J.”
    â€œMurray? My cat?”
    â€œ My cat,” Krissy clarified. “Or at least that’s how he’d started out.” Krissy sat down at the table and motioned for Kira to do the same. When she did, Krissy went on, “Until you decided he should have canned food instead of dry food and he should be allowed to sleep in a bed even though I didn’t want him sleeping in my bed. Until you decided I didn’t buy him the right kind of toys or scoop his litter often enough or brush him often enough and you took over all of his care. Then, when we’d get into a fight, you’d bring up Murray and accuse me of being irresponsible. Well I’m not irresponsible. I just have my own way of doing