Page 67 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

Smith

The pharmacy was just opening when I pulled the Range Rover into the parking spot in front. I’d paused long enough at home to grab the tea Belle had been drinking. It was a longshot, but I’d seen the heartbreak on her face when she couldn’t nurse Penny. She’d come so far in the last few weeks. I wouldn’t let her give up without a fight. Not when she was so close to finding herself again. We could do more. I could do more.

A bell tinkled as I opened the door and stepped inside. Behind the far counter, a woman looked up in surprise from the register.

“Early start,” she said by way of greeting.

“Baby formula,” I said, looking around. “It’s a bit of an emergency actually.”

She circled the counter quickly, leading me to the small cache of infant supplies in the shop. “What kind?”

“I have no idea.” I’d never felt so helpless. Penny’s screams were still ringing in my ears. I could only think of bringing her what she needed. “My wife was nursing her, but there was no milk this morning. She won’t stop screaming.”

“In that case.” She piled a few canisters into her arms. “We can troubleshoot later, but let’s get you home.” She carried them to the counter and began ringing them up, peppering me with questions as she did. “Did she try pumping?”

“Yes. This morning,” I said, feeling another wave of frustration.

“Did her period start up again? That can affect some women,” she said.

“I don’t think so. Our daughter is only two months old.”

“There are some herbs she can try. Give the baby a bottle but have her keep putting her to the breast to feed,” she advised. “She should keep pumping and take warm showers.”

I made mental notes as she rattled off suggestion after suggestion. I gave her a grateful smile as she handed me a bag. I’d turned to leave when I remembered the herbs.

“The herbs?” I said. I yanked the tin of tea out of my pocket. “She was taking this. Should she try something else, too?”

She picked up the tin and pried off the lip, lowering her nose to sniff it. Her eyes widened in surprise. “This is what she’s been drinking?”

“Yes, I think she got it here.” I cursed myself for not paying more attention.

“Mint. Sage.” She sniffed again. “Nettle. This would dry up her milk supply. We usually give it to mothers who want to wean...or mothers who’ve lost…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “There must have been a mistake. Maybe she asked for the wrong one.”

I closed my eyes. “She’s been drinking it constantly. The doctor told her the baby needed to gain weight.”

“Have her do all the things I told you.” She pulled another tin out. “She should drink this one. It will taste a bit like licorice. That’s the one she wants, if she still wants to nurse.”

“Thank you,” I called, grabbing the tea tin. The Range Rover’s wheels spun on the frost still covering the streets as I hauled ass back toward Thornham. It had all been a stupid mistake, and she was paying the price for it. I wouldn’t let her feel guilty. Maybe something could be done, if she wanted. I’d just passed the village entrance when the speakers rang with an incoming call. I punched accept.

“Now’s not a good time.”

“Where are you?” Georgia’s harsh voice cut in. “You sound like you’re driving.”

“I had to run to the village.” I didn’t bother to fill her in on the particulars. I doubted she would care.

“I’m on my way to you,” she said.

“Christmas was yesterday,” I said dryly.

“Funny,” she said, not sounding the least bit amused. We’d never been the caroling around the piano types, so I doubted her sudden visit had anything to do with the holidays.

I turned down the country lane at the Thornham sign, the road instantly becoming a bumpy, dirt path. “What’s going on?”

“Well, first, tell your wife to call her best friend back before Clara has a stroke.”

“Is something wrong?”

“She’s been trying to reach her for weeks, and I had to stop Clara from getting in the car and driving from Scotland to Sussex. She’s worried about her.”