Bringing Baby Home

The stack of papers on the passenger seat of her Honda CR-V toppled sideways as Liz Radonovic turned onto the street leading to her house. The two-inch pile edged precariously toward the ridiculously messy floor, which was symbolic of her life, in general. Chaotic.She slowed at the first of the newly installed speed bumps on Canto Lane."Ka-thunk," she said aloud in harmony with her car's rear suspension. She hated the four-inch hurdles that C.A.N., the Canto Association of Neighbors, had recently convinced the city of Henderson, Nevada, to install. There were two in the middle of her block -- pretty much bracketing her driveway. She couldn't help but take their presence personally, even though the road committee had insisted this was for the good of the children."If you had kids, you'd understand," Crissy Montoya, mother of two and current president of the group, had told Liz while circulating a petition to enforce curb appeal. Buoyed by her success in curtailing speeders, Crissy was now on a crusade to make the four-block radius around her home more "charming."Liz had been abrupt when confronted with the petition and pen. Not because she didn't approve of curb appeal, but because the concept sounded like something that would cost her money.And it had.Crissy's project had been approved by the majority of homeowners and she'd hired a gardener, who was slowly adding plants, boulders and creativity to the otherwise boring tract houses that made up her subdivision. Nestled between Boulder Highway and the River Mountains to the east, the Canto development had sprung up when the line between Henderson and its neighbor to the north, Las Vegas, was still easily identifiable.Liz hadn't met the man responsible for making all these decorative changes, but she'd seen him several times from a distance. Tall and lanky, he usually wore a wide-brim hat with a sort of curtain that covered the back of his neck and shoulders. Shirt, pants, hat -- all tan. The color of the desert. He almost looked as though he was deliberately trying to blend in.But he was good at what he did, she had to admit, smiling at a cascading bridal bouquet of a mature yucca. She had to respect a man who could transplant succulents and keep them from dying in this climate.She figured her place was next, and the thought of an additional outlay of money -- cash she couldn't spare -- was enough to make her stomach heave."You need to be more proactive," her sister Alex had told Liz recently at one of their weekly roundtables. "You shouldn't let that Crissy woman boss you around. Tell her you're between jobs and can't spare the cash. She should be able to understand that, shouldn't she?"Between jobs. Liz wished it were that simple. She had lost her physical therapist job after the administrator and several of the doctors at the private hospital where she'd been working were arrested. That had been one of the many repercussions the Radonovic family had suffered after Liz's youngest sister, Grace, blew the whistle on old family friend Charles Harmon, a lawyer and casino owner who had broken too many laws to count.Liz had never had any trouble getting a P.T. job anywhere in the world. Until now. Either there was a glut of applicants in Vegas or her name carried some invisible black mark. Liz didn't know which and wasn't sure she cared. In a way, every closed door seemed to be a sign. She was ready for a change and knew what she wanted to do -- help people stay healthy instead of trying to fix the body after something went wrong.She was Romani and came from a long line of healers -- women who knew which herbs could ease a tummy ache, help prevent arthritis and steady nerves in difficult times. During her stay in India, she'd been exposed to a different kind of healing -- Ayurveda, the oldest medicine in the world. She hadn't stayed there long enough to become proficient in the practice, but the knowledge she'd garnered had fed a neeSalonen, Debra is the author of 'Bringing Baby Home ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373751303 and ISBN 0373751303.