Running Scared

by Linda Ladd

  Outside she watched the road for only a few minutes before her black Explorer came into sight. Michael had insisted on taking it instead of the Lexus, and she'd thought it strange at the time until he'd admitted he needed the extra room for all the stuff he was going to buy for the baby.

  Clutching her hands together, she stood at the end of the sidewalk where the gate stood open and watched Michael pull the car around with a delicate crunch of gravel. The baby seat was in the back on the left side, just the way they'd read in the instruction booklet, and she ran to the window and stared through the tinted glass, gazing upon her son for the very first time.

  "Oh, Michael, he's beautiful!"

  Michael was already out and coming around from the driver's side. He was grinning, seemingly as proud as if the boy were his own. Kate opened the door and leaned over the sleeping infant, her heart bursting with pleasure. He really was beautiful, so tiny. Just a little bundle in a blanket, his face round with a ruddy complexion, lots of dark curls, lots more hair than any newborn she'd ever seen.

  "Just look at all that hair."

  "Yeah, thank God he wasn't bald, and he's not even that wrinkled up. Some newborn babies look like little old geezers."

  Kate laughed at Michael, hearing the immense pride in his voice and looking up at him. “I just can't believe he's truly ours. They can't change their minds and take him back, can they? Tell me they can't do that, Michael."

  "Of course not. Stop thinking that way. C'mon, let's get him inside. He slept nearly all the way down here so he's probably wet his pants."

  For the first time Kate realized how jittery her husband was acting. He'd probably been terrified the whole drive down, afraid the baby would cry or want a bottle. That's why she'd wanted to go along to get the baby. Michael was so fidgety that she smiled, deciding she'd better take charge. “I told you to come get me before you went to pick him up. Besides, he doesn't wear pants yet,” Kate murmured, carefully unbuckling the strap and lifting it off. Suddenly she appreciated Michael's apprehension; she was almost afraid to touch the tiny baby herself. Neither one had had an iota of experience with newborns.

  "What if we wake him up? He's sleeping so peacefully."

  "We've got to get him in the house sometime. Hurry up, just pick him up and let's take him inside,” Michael urged anxiously, showing his frayed nerves again.

  When Kate slid her hand underneath the infant's bottom, he opened one eye and squinted up at her. Her heart melted like grease on a griddle. His other eye opened when she cupped the back of his head in her other hand, marveling at how small he was.

  "He's going to have brown eyes, I'll bet. Look how dark they are, almost black,” she whispered, then wondered why she was whispering. She found out why when the baby began to fuss and wave his little arms around. Kate lifted him out of the infant carrier, still holding him with both hands.

  "Don't drop him, Kate, watch out, he's squirming around.” Michael looked ready to pace the driveway as Kate settled the baby in the crook of her left arm.

  "I've got him, Michael. Stay calm.” She smiled at her husband a moment and he took a deep breath.

  "I just want to get him inside and settled before anybody comes."

  "It doesn't matter if anyone comes,” Kate told him, but they really should get him in out of the sun. Still smiling, she watched him as he made angry little sputtering sounds and jerked his arms up and down a mile a minute. Kate rocked him gently, back and forth in the cradle of her arms, stunned that she knew what to do, that her own maternal instincts had come to their rescue, as surely as if she'd raised a dozen kids of her own.

  "There, there, sweetie pie,” she crooned softly, reaching out to touch his soft cheek. “Don't you worry a bit, little one, you're home now. I'll take good care of you, I promise, yes, I will."

  The baby grunted and tried to kick, then let out the most awful belch she'd ever heard. She and Michael looked at each other in shocked silence and then laughed together when the baby followed with a contented sigh.

  "Well, that apparently made him feel better,” she said, gazing down at him, awed by the tiny little fingers, now clutched into tight fists the size of walnuts.

  "He's a man's man, that's for damned sure,” Michael agreed, then moved around the back and opened the hatch. “I picked up a portable crib at the Neiman Marcus baby department because the saleslady said it's better to keep him in the same room with us for awhile before we put him in his own baby bed."

  "You're becoming quite an expert on babies,” Kate said, but she was pleased he had taken the interest. Every such remark made her feel as if he were truly determined to make them a family.

  "I got some books on child raising at Barnes and Noble, too. And a bunch more clothes for him, some in bigger sizes, too. I figure we won't be getting back up to St. Louis anytime soon.” That was music to Kate's ears. Michael seemed to have come back from whatever distant journey to fame and fortune he'd been on for so long.

  He retrieved a huge teddy bear from the front seat, one about ten times bigger than the child Kate held. “That thing'll scare the wits out of him."

  "I got some smaller ones, too. This one's for later."

  Michael rushed to the back and started unloading as if he were in a race, and his unstrung attitude was beginning to infect Kate, too. Suddenly the immensity of their responsibility concerning this helpless child hit her. She hoped they could take care of him the way they were supposed to, and she was very glad Michael had picked up those baby books. “I hope we don't do anything wrong."

  "I think he's gonna be a pretty good kid. He hardly made a peep all the way down, I'm telling you, barely a sound the whole way."

  Kate held him securely and walked slowly up the front walk, Michael behind her, toting the portable crib under one arm and the diaper bag in his other hand. She opened the screen door with one toe and entered the house, sitting down in Pop's brown rocker-recliner. She put her knees together and laid the baby down atop her lap, unable to take her eyes off him.

  "Hello, little precious,” she cooed, and he blinked his dark eyes as if still blinded from the brightness outside. “You are so little, you know that. Barely big enough to fit on my lap."

  "He's really pretty big for a newborn, at least that's what the nurse said. Nine pounds and ten ounces.” Michael had set the bed upright and was arranging the padded bumpers around the edges. He got down on one knee beside Kate. Both of them stared down at the baby.

  "He's a good-looking kid, all right,” Michael said. “He looks a little like his mother."

  Kate nodded. “He has dark hair like hers. Remember, in the picture she sent you it was braided into long pigtails."

  Michael suddenly seemed reluctant to get into that subject, no doubt afraid Kate would dwell on the birth mother's sorrow. “Let's not talk about her. He's ours now, nice and legal."

  Nodding, Kate reached down a forefinger to touch the child's tiny fist. Immediately the baby curled his little fingers around the tip of her finger and squeezed so tightly that Kate was startled. “Look at that grip, would you? Oh, Michael, I can't believe we finally have him. I just can't believe it, not after all those years wanting a baby."

  "Believe it. He's ours, forever. There are bottles in the diaper bag ready to feed to him. The nurse got everything ready for us. And I've got a bunch of cans of the right kind of formula, you know, the kind for newborns. They said we'll have to change it to whole milk eventually but we can figure that out when the time comes."

  "Of course we can. We'll figure out everything."

  "I've got more stuff outside in the Explorer. I'll be back in a minute."

  "Okay, I'll sit here and hold him."

  Kate was very content to do just that, and she admired their son as Michael disappeared outside again, banging the screen behind him. She unwrapped the pale blue blanket and saw that he wore a white terrycloth gown that had a drawstring at the bottom. Again she marveled at his teensy arms and legs but he was fully awake now. He di
dn't fuss but kicked his legs and waved his arms in a jerky fashion as if he was startled they were attached to him.

  "We're going to have to learn all about each other together, now aren't we?” she crooned, giggling at herself for adopting the ridiculous baby talk. How easily it had come to her!

  "You are such a handsome boy,” she told him, tenderly caressing one of his silky dark curls. “With all this black hair and those cute little ears. You're going to be the best-looking boy in high school someday, you know that?"

  He gurgled, and she saw for the first time that he had a double dimple in his cheek, high, just under his eye. She smiled tenderly at him, then looked out through the picture window when she heard Michael's voice. She could see him beside the Explorer, pacing back and forth as he spoke into his cellular phone. His voice was muffled enough so that she didn't know exactly what he was talking about, but he didn't look happy. She hoped his office wasn't calling him back to the city on some emergency. Surely he wouldn't do that, not on their son's first day home.

  The baby kicked harder, and Kate picked up one of her grandmother's knitted afghans from the arm of the chair and carefully spread it out on the floor. She leaned down and laid him on his back, then got on her knees beside him.

  When he kept fussing and twisting she feared he might be wet, so she carefully untied the drawstring. The plastic diaper looked very white against his bare skin, the tender flesh mottled and bluish in color. “Oh, my little love, just look how fragile you are. Well, let's just see if you're wet, or not."

  Intruding one forefinger down the front of the diaper, she realized that he was indeed. Soaked, as a matter of fact. Reaching out to the diaper bag, she dragged it toward her and pulled out a newborn Luvs, thinking it incredible how small it was. She knew how to diaper a baby because she'd been practicing for the last week on one of her old dolls. The baby lay still for her, watching her every move as if he thought her quite fascinating.

  Lifting his bottom with the utmost care, she dragged off the diaper and dusted him with a little Johnson's Baby Powder she'd found in the bag, then positioned a clean diaper underneath him. She had to stretch it nearly double to fit him at the front, but he only kicked and made little grunts that delighted her.

  Once she had the sleeper back on him she sat back and just stared down at him. The most terrible wave of tenderness began to build inside her, and she knew how blessed she was to have gotten such a child. She felt her heart expand with a love that she knew would only grow stronger as each day passed. She wanted to cry, and laugh, and dance around the cabin, all with pure joy.

  "See, changing diapers wasn't so bad. I haven't done it yet, but I watched the nurse. Those tapes make it easy. Remember when they used to use safety pins?"

  Michael had come back inside, watching as Kate re-wrapped the baby inside the soft receiving blanket and lifted him to her shoulder. She rocked back and forth, smiling. “He's so good. He hasn't cried yet."

  "Yeah. I was afraid he'd get crazy on me on the way down but he slept like a baby."

  Kate shook her head, but he didn't seem to notice his pun. Wanting to see her little darling again she laid him in the crook of her elbow. “It's time we gave him a name now that he's here.” Kate hadn't wanted to do so before, for fear something would go wrong, but now she was eager to christen him.

  "What do you have in mind?” Michael asked, sitting down beside her. “I know you've been thinking about nothing else since I left."

  Kate gazed up at him, not sure how he'd react to the name she'd chosen. “I want to name him after Pop. You know, Joseph, and I thought we'd name him after you, too, Joseph Michael, maybe."

  "Joseph Michael Reed,” Michael repeated slowly. “Sounds good, if we can call him Joey for short. I've always liked that name."

  "Joey,” Kate murmured, gazing down at the tiny baby. She smiled. “That fits him perfectly. Welcome to your new home, Joey. The three of us are going to be very happy together."

  "Let me hold him,” Michael suddenly demanded. Pleased that he wanted to, Kate waited for her husband to get settled into the rocker, then carefully lowered Joey into his lap.

  Michael was smiling down at Joey, obviously as besotted with him as she was. “Who was that on the phone? Your office?"

  His smile faded somewhat. Michael nodded. “Yeah, they wanted me to come up and sort out a problem they had on a deposition but I told them I wasn't about to miss my son's first day at home."

  More than anything else he could have ever said, his words filled Kate with pleasure. Happily, she watched him rock their new son and felt for the first time that they were going to make it together. Michael was finally ready to be a husband to her and a father to Joey, and that was all she had ever wanted from him.

  Eight

  THE IRONY of her thoughts of the day Michael brought Joey home was not lost upon Kate. She had discarded her initial wariness over Michael's sudden interest in adoption and fatherhood, had fallen in love with Joey right off the bat. Now after a month of holding him, diapering him, feeding him, she loved him so much that the thought of giving him up was inconceivable. She couldn't even think about doing it without getting sick to her stomach. There had been signs, of course; she knew them now, in retrospect. Michael's secrecy, his nervousness and constant pacing and checking at the windows. He'd feared all along these men would come for Joey, and he'd been right. He'd paid for his deception with his life.

  Her throat constricted, tears threatening as she relived the moment of Michael's death. She shook her head, forcibly pushing the ghastly image out of her mind, unable to think about it anymore. She was safe at the moment, but she had to get on the move early tomorrow. She had to get to Van Buren and contact Gus at the Carter County sheriff's office. She'd leave at dawn before the killers got started again. But why were these men Russians, if that's what they were? Who were they? Why would they be involved, she asked herself, until a possible answer suddenly occurred to her. Unless Joey was from Russia instead of the Philippines! Could that be it; could he have come off the Russian black market? She'd heard of Americans adopting babies from Romania and Bosnia, and she supposed Russian orphans could be obtained the same way. She looked down at Joey, wondering if he could have come from one of those places, smuggled into the country like some kind of exotic bird.

  Appalled at the possibility that Michael had been a part in any such hoax, Kate felt weak again. She ought to eat something; she had to keep up her strength. The thought of food revolted her, but she dug in the pack anyway. Maybe she could stomach some crackers. She ripped open the top and forced herself to eat one. It had little taste.

  Joey was not having the same problem. He was slurping happily, his eyes half closed in the ecstasy of peace and quiet. He interrupted his enjoyment to watch as she stood up and stripped off her damp sweatshirt. Shivering in the chilly air, she got on her knees and rinsed some of the mud off it in the tiny stream, then laid it out beside the fire. She did the same with her jeans, then built up the fire to a good hot blaze to warm up the cave.

  Wearing T-shirt and panties, she picked up Joey and snuggled him close as she leaned against the wall, covering her bare legs with the other quilt. Her mind revisited her dire predicament, detailing everything she'd been through, and her first inclination was to disbelieve any of it. She couldn't quit thinking she was trapped inside a horrible dream, that she'd wake up soon in her own bed, with Michael safely beside her.

  Maybe she should just stay put for awhile, here in the cave where it was unlikely the killers could find her. Good God, she was miles out in the wilderness, away from any road. There was no way Michael's killers could find her. The forest was too rugged, and she'd hidden her trail too well.

  It stood to reason they'd realized she'd crossed the river. Still, they couldn't be familiar with this terrain. Unlike the peculiar man in the jungle fatigues. He might still be slinking around, watching her, waiting for her to come out into the open. Or waiting for her to sleep. Kate felt a shudder start
at the base of her spine and undulate with hair-raising dread all the way to her scalp. She stared through the mouth of the cave into the dark night. Afraid of what might be out there, she pulled on her damp jeans, just in case he did come, then withdrew the filet knife from its scabbard and laid it close beside her leg.

  She had to move swiftly. Get to the authorities. Gus might already be looking for her. Surely someone had heard the barrage of shots the men had fired on the river. She lived a good distance from her neighbors but the gunfire would echo for miles over water. Van Buren and its environs weren't used to violent gun battles. She contemplated about what might be going on with Gus and his deputies. Surely Gus knew by now she'd disappeared since he made a habit of checking on them before he went off duty.

  It dawned on her that she still had the portable radio. She shifted Joey to her left arm as she searched in the pack for the radio, found it and shook it out of the plastic bag, hoping the batteries hadn't gotten wet. She laid Joey on the ground between her legs for a moment as she fiddled with the dial. Nothing for a few seconds, then to her relief a buzz of static. Rolling the wheel with her forefinger she found no stations, then realized that she probably couldn't pick up the signal from inside the cave.

  Rising, she ducked out the opening and squatted where she could keep an eye on Joey. Working with the dial, she finally hit a station playing hard rock that blared so loudly she cringed in dismay. Desperately she fumbled to shut the thing off, then sat frozen. If her pursuers were still out there, or the man in camo, they could've heard it echoing through the trees. They could be up and moving again right now, coming toward her. She stared fearfully out into the dark trees and listened. All she heard was crickets and cicadas but now she was nervous again, afraid to relax.

  Turning the volume very low, she finally found KWOC out of Poplar Bluff. The disc jockey was hosting the Oldie Goldie hour. Fats Domino was crooning, bringing back memories of Kate's childhood when Pop let her stand atop his shoes and danced her around the cabin's living room. I found my thrill-oh on Blueberry Hill-oh.