by Natalie Ann
“You’re such a good wife. We’ll go out to lunch, too, okay?”
It embarrassed her that he had to offer her a meal out in order to gain her approval, but it was what it was, and walking five miles on the beach would be a little sweeter if there was a meal at the end of it.
“Okay. And do you promise to take an Uber back to the car? I don’t want to hike back up to Oceanside.”
“We can do that,” he said, trying not to let the disappointment show in his voice.
His phone beeped, a call from Rady. “It’s the hospital.”
“Oh no, I hope she’s okay.”
He answered it and listened. “Thanks, Sherri,” he said, winking at Candy. “Can we come down today?”
The nurse explained something to him.
“Okay! We’ll see you later this afternoon.”
He ended the call and smiled at Candy. “She’s breathing on her own. We can hold her if we want. You heard that we can go down later.”
“Okay, that sounds good,” she said, hoping he’d give up the idea of the beach hike in favor of visiting the baby. “What time do you want to leave?”
“Well, I figure we’ll be ready to go after a couple of hours at the beach.”
Rather than arguing about going to the ICU nursery in sandy clothes, she just let it go. New concerns about her own little head-of-a-pin-sized baby possibly picking up bugs in the nursery flashed through her mind. She’d wear a mask and a gown as usual since it was an isolation ward. But since she was about to spend her career around sick kids, the concerns were absurd.
“Sounds good,” she said again. “I’ll be right back.”
Determined to be a team player and not so selfish, she gave herself a pep talk. “That’s the father of your baby in there,” she said, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she applied a bright shade of red lipstick. “Show some respect.”
But what to wear on a beach hike in the autumn that could still be alluring? She dug through her fitness wear and came up with tight capris that bound a little in the crotch—a look Joey loved, which meant sacrificing comfort—a low-cut tank top, and a push-up bra. She’d take a lightweight matching jacket.
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail. With the bright lips, she had exactly the look Joey loved, a combination of seductress and goody-two-shoes. The thought made her laugh, so when she joined Joey in the kitchen again, he looked up and saw his beautiful wife exactly the way he liked her, happy and ready to play.
“Tonight can you wear your Candy Stripper costume? You know, the one with the fishnets and garter belt?”
Keeping a forced grin on her face, the last thing Candy wanted to do was risk their baby this early by having sex. But that was silly; most pregnancies weren’t even confirmed as early as theirs had been.
“Sure, Joey, if you aren’t too tired by our hike, I’ll wear whatever you want tonight.”
“I won’t be too tired,” he promised, closing his eyes. “I can just see you now, wearing that little nurse’s hat and the miniskirt. Boy, the nurses in the nursery sure don’t dress like that.”
“No one would ever get any work done,” she replied, gathering up water bottles and keys and sunglasses.
They walked out to his truck together, and when the garage door opened, she could see the blue sky and the light from the sun, the beautiful day just beginning. He took her hand and the gesture was so sweet, so Joey. He was always thinking about her needs, making her feel loved, wanted and desired.
“I’m so lucky,” she said, kissing him. “How’d I score to get a guy like you?”
“I’m the lucky one,” he said, unlocking her door. “Hop in, beautiful. We’re going to have a great day. I can feel it. We’ll get some exercise and then have a good meal someplace new.”
He shut her door and she watched him walk around the front of the truck as she put her seatbelt on. There was something bothering him, something underlying that he was trying to squelch. When he got like this, no matter how hard she tried to get him to talk, he never would, so she tried to just let it go. The issues always surfaced later; it just took patience on her part. Patience and sex. He was definitely a sexual person. That was when she knew she’d resort to her old favorite trick, something he loved and that she liked doing for him, and it would be safer for the baby than wild and crazy sex.
“Before you turn the truck on, I want to do something,” she whispered, reaching over to the driver’s side after she undid her seatbelt.
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Why not? Just relax.” She unsnapped his shorts and pulled the waistband of his underpants down, reaching in to expose his already responding body. Kneeling in the passenger seat, her head just fit behind the steering wheel.
“Wow,” he mumbled, watching her take him into her mouth.
Each stroke, her head moving up and down, brought him closer to pleasure. “You’d better stop.”
“No. Come in my mouth, Joey. I want you to feel good.”
Well, that did it for him, the words in my mouth still reverberated, and he lost it, trying not to hump in his seat. He grabbed her head, afraid that if she kept it up, he’d start moaning. There were some paper napkins in the glove compartment and she wiped her mouth off with them, handing one to Joey just as he looked in the rearview mirror.
“Jesus Christ, my mother just pulled up!”
“Hurry and roll down your window,” Candy said. “It smells like a semen factory in here.”
“What the fuck!”
“It’ll be okay. Hurry up and get out.”
“I’m still hard!”
“Okay, I’ll get out. Give me a mint, will you?”
Trying not to laugh, she quickly chewed a mint going to meet Roberta. “You’re out early,” she called.
“Not really, it’s almost eleven. I tried calling to let you know I had time to work on your kitchen.”
“Oh, Roberta, you’re so sweet, but we’re going for a hike. Joey needs to get out of the house this morning.”
Roberta paused, looking at her hands. “Do you mind if I work in there while you’re gone? I needed to get out today, too.”
Wondering what was compelling her mother-in-law to push, Candy thought about the condition of the house, and it was okay, she’d worked at making it nice for Joey’s homecoming, and besides, Roberta had just been in there alone.
“Sure, you can go inside. I’ll unlock the door for you. Just go out the front door when you leave later. Thank you so much.”
In spite of her possibly sex-smelling breath, she leaned in and gave her mother-in-law a peck on the cheek. Candy was demonstrative, Roberta not so much, but she always seemed to like it when Candy gave her love.
Looking in the truck as she followed Candy into the garage, Roberta saw Joey there. “Oh! I didn’t see you.”
“Hi, Ma,” he said.
“See you later?”
“Of course. We have Charlie’s party, right?”
“Right. Tomorrow instead of Sunday dinner.”
Wishing Candy would hurry up and get back into the truck, the benefits of getting a blow job in the truck were diminishing exponentially with each passing second, anxiety returning. Candy had wanted nothing more than to get pregnant right away. For the past two months, they’d lived and breathed baby, and he’d dreaded that her period would come.
But now she was pregnant. The thought both delighted and terrified him. She was in her last year of medical school, and if his calculations were correct, she’d just make it, having the baby right after graduation. Then the worry over where her residency would be lurked.
“Don’t worry, Joey. There are over a hundred hospitals between here and LA, and if I can’t find something there, I’ll go to Tijuana.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
She finally came out of the house, a smirk on her face.
“My mother needs to stop with the drop-ins,” he said as Candy climbed in the truck.
“She
means well, but maybe we need to set some boundaries for her.”
“Good luck with that. Anyway, thank you. That was great.”
“Next time, we’ll close the garage door.”
“Okay, good idea. To the beach,” he said. “Now if I can get around her car without her having to come out and move it.”
He managed it and they were finally on their way.
Chapter Four
The Mission Motel did the bulk of its business with people in transition. Homeless people, people released from jail, those waiting for space to open up in half-houses, and those displaced by fire all found a home at the Mission.
The owner, a retired cop, had taken over five years earlier with the goal of turning it from a flophouse to a moneymaking investment to no avail. It was too far from the beach and had few amenities outside of a cracked surface tennis court and a hot tub with a tepid temperature, making it a bacterial breeding ground.
Slowly she made the improvements needed to qualify for Section 8 status, which meant she could collect rental assistance from the federal government on behalf of low-income tenants. She ran a tight ship, too, not allowing drugs or alcohol, and freely dialing 911 at the slightest provocation. The police were a constant presence at the Mission, and that was the way she liked it.
A fire in the San Pasqual Valley area of Escondido sent four families to the Mission, including Kathy Miller. She never got there, however. Local police had issued a warrant for her arrest, charging her with abandonment and endangering the life of a human being when she left her newborn inside the burning house from which she was able to flee.
But weeks later, she told her lawyer she had been downstairs in the common kitchen area where the fire started. A gas leak had caught fire, blocking the kitchen from the rest of the house, preventing her return to the upper-level apartment to rescue the baby, so the charges were dropped.
“You don’t seem that upset,” the detective noted.
“I was upset when it happened. I don’t have the money to bury her, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Kathy said.
“She didn’t die,” the detective said, disgusted. “You really don’t seem that upset if you thought she was dead.”
“Why’d you arrest me, then, if she’s alive?”
“You don’t get it, lady. You left a newborn baby alone in that firetrap to burn to death. A fireman found her in the nick of time. She’s in the ICU at Rady, hanging on to life. The only reason your ass isn’t going to rot in jail is because of that gas stove malfunctioning. You had over two milligrams per liter of meth in your blood. Any more and you would have been dead yourself.”
“I want her,” Kathy shrieked. “She’s my kid.”
“Too bad. There’s already a restraining order against you. Warning—don’t go near the hospital. And you can forget fighting it, because CPS is the one who filed the order.”
After signing some paperwork she didn’t understand, Kathy was released. A friend, Taylor, waited for her outside the station. It was the first time she’d ever seen Kathy clean, and it was remarkable how good she looked.
“You don’t look so bad for just getting out. Being straight agrees with you.”
“Forget it. I need some ice right now. Can you hook me up?” Kathy pleaded.
“You need to get your kid back first. That’s a lot of money you’re gonna lose.”
“I never registered her birth. I didn’t think of it.”
“You need to get yourself down to city hall and do the paperwork. Do it now. A baby means money.”
“I can get food stamps and WIC, but it’s going to be pretty hard to prove I even had a baby without a baby to show.”
“I’m talking adoption money. A white couple will grab that kid. You’re nuts if you let CPS find her a home. Get over to the hospital and get her.”
“If they have a restraining order, I won’t even be able to get near her.”
“Who said they have a restraining order? That dick? You believe him? Come on, let’s get down there and get your kid.”
“Why do you even care?” Kathy asked.
“Because I want you to have the money. We’re talking ten, twenty thousand dollars. Let’s go.”
“I don’t think I can take care of a baby without ice, and where are we gonna get any now?”
“We’ll hook up with our people at the Mission. Someone will know where to get it.”
“Get me some ice first, bitch! Then I’ll try to get the baby.”
The nurses were on alert after learning that Baby Jane Doe’s mother had been released from jail. Security guards stayed posted at the elevator and staircase entrances to the unit, and the reception desk on the ground floor was given the mother’s name and mug shot with the alert Do Not Allow Entry.
“Try to avoid worrying about this too much,” the nursing manager advised. “We’ll keep the door to the nursery locked, so even if she does get up here, she won’t get in.”
It wouldn’t be for lack of trying. An hour after Kathy Miller was released from jail, she hooked up with her old housemates and smoked meth, got on a bus with Taylor, both of them high, and ended up at Rady shortly before seven p.m., in time for change of shift.
“Oh lord, there she is,” said Danny, the security guard at the front desk, holding up Kathy Miller’s mug shot and pointing her out to the volunteer at the desk.
“You need to check in here before you go any farther,” the guard said, stepping out from behind the desk.
“I’m getting my baby,” Kathy said, outraged. “You can’t stop me!”
She tried to charge around Danny, who blew a whistle, which got the attention of the San Diego cops walking the beat outside the hospital. Kathy would spend another night in jail before the Red Cross arranged transportation for her back to the Mission.
About the same time they were dragging her to the patrol car, Joey and Candy walked through the revolving door of the hospital, feeling compassion for the unfortunate girl, who was obviously distressed, getting arrested.
“Yikes, never a dull moment in town,” Joey said.
“That’s so scary,” Candy replied, looking over her shoulder. “She’s high for sure.”
“Yeah, I figured that out.”
They stopped at the front desk and got their visitor badges. The guard recognized Joey from his picture on television and the news. “That girl they just dragged out of here, she’s the mother of the baby you rescued.”
Joey and Candy turned around again and watched the final moments before the cruiser sped off with Kathy in the back.
“She tried to get in?” Candy asked.
“Yep. Got her mug shot here. CPS got a restraining order out against her.” He handed Joey Kathy’s mug shot.
“I don’t remember what she looked like. She was with a crowd of tenants sitting on the grass. Someone pointed her out to me, but I didn’t see her face-to-face.”
“She’s messed up, leaving her baby to die,” the guard said.
“She probably tried to get her,” Candy said, refusing to believe the woman had purposely left her baby to burn to death. “She couldn’t get back up the staircase.”
“This firefighter got up there. I read you found her in a cardboard box. How’d you even know she was in there?”
“I heard crying,” Joey said, speaking reluctantly, not wanting to relive those horrible moments. “I knew there was a baby in there somewhere, so I had to keep looking. I couldn’t give up.”
Candy placed her hand on his back, protective, aware he might be slipping into depression from the incident again, suffering from a little PTSD. Seeing the baby always helped him snap back.
“Let’s go. You need to see Baby Jane.”
They walked together toward the elevator, pensive. What they’d just seen with the mother of the baby was upsetting because it meant that there was a possibility she might get her back someday. The trend was to do everything possible to either reinstate parental privileges or place the child with fami
ly members, and that didn’t always have a good outcome.
“I hate calling her Baby Jane,” he grumbled when the doors closed. “They need to give her a name.”
“Honey, give her a name, then! You can call her whatever you want.”
“I’m going to.”
They got to the nursery and rang the buzzer. Sherrie was working that Saturday and met them at the door. She was a little taken aback that Candy had come with Joey this time, having looked forward to spending time alone with him.
“Come on in,” Sherrie said after the doors opened. “You know the drill.”
They gowned up, Sherrie checking out Candy in her fitness wear. “You two out exercising today?”
“We hiked on the beach,” Joey answered. “Five miles down, five back.”
“Much to my disappointment,” Candy said, laughing.
“Wow, that’s impressive.”
Candy had gotten the jealous vibe from Sherrie right away: the friendly, helpful nurse when Candy was at the hospital in her lab coat with stethoscope, but here with ravishing Joey, a threat. She’d keep her husband close. Maybe when she got a chance later that evening, she’d borrow Joey’s phone to check out the text messages Sherrie had been sending in addition to friendly phone calls, supposedly to update him on the baby’s condition.
“Like I said, they took her breathing tube out. You can hold her now if you’d like.”
The statement was directed at Joey, and Candy didn’t try to weasel into the conversation. Then Joey did something that Joey was so good at: he pulled Candy close to him and put her first.
“Candy can hold her first,” he said, his respect for her so obvious, Sherrie winced.
“You go ahead, Joey,” Candy said softly, looking at Sherrie. “I can hold her when I’m here during the day.”
He sat down in the rocker Sherrie pointed to, and she lifted the top of the Isolette to gain access to the baby.
“Here you are,” Sherrie said, bending close to him. Candy hung back, not attempting to arrange wires and tubes.
“You look perfect holding a baby,” Candy said. “Can I take their picture?”
