by Dori Lavelle
36
It takes me five days to get through all the books I wanted to read, and a few I didn’t. Now all the books are back inside the box, and I’m sitting on the bed staring at it. A sound at the door makes me look up.
The breakfast tray was pulled out at least an hour ago. Still a few hours left before lunch arrives. I look at the partition, waiting for it to open. Maybe I’m getting a mid-morning snack. That would be new.
I jump when the entire door opens.
Damien breezes in, casual and cool in a cobalt-blue polo shirt, stone-washed jeans, and a smile. My mind recalls Judson, the man who once stole my breath away and filled my dreams nightly. Before my body can react, I blink the memories away. Damien, the monster, reappears and my heart turns to lead.
“You look well today.” He comes to sit next to me on the bed. He smells of shampoo and peppermint.
He raises his hand, hesitating before placing it on my arm. I shrug him away, shrinking from his touch.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t touch me.” Rage scalds the back of my throat.
He withdraws his arm and places both his hands on his knees. “Let me make this clear. I hate this as much as you.” His voice is low and thick. If I were anyone else, I’d probably believe he means what he says.
“And yet you continue to keep me locked up in here.”
He shifts ever so slightly. “I’m normally a risk taker. I welcome risk in business, but not in love. I can’t risk letting you out of here until I’m one hundred percent sure you will not betray me. I still have a nagging feeling you will.”
I bury my hands in my hair. It’s still damp from earlier, when I washed it with grapefruit-scented shampoo. Yesterday afternoon, my lunch was accompanied by a bag that contained all the toiletries a girl might need, including tampons.
He gets to his feet and rolls his shoulders. “I’m not prepared to take any chances. So you’ll remain in here until you understand your place. You’ll only be permitted to leave this room once I instruct you to.”
I massage my temples and take deep breaths, begging my mind to stay calm.
He pushes his hands into his pockets, legs wide apart. “I hate that you are sad, though. I know you’re bored in here, all alone. So I brought you a little surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.” I tilt my head back and gaze into his green eyes. There’s not much life behind them today, no sparkle. He’s tired. The fear of me leaving him, and watching me day and night from his secret cameras, must be robbing him of sleep.
“You’ll love this one, believe me.” He heads to the door and taps on it. When it opens, he beckons someone inside.
Hanna appears in the doorway with a teal, cable-knit cashmere blanket in her arms. Adrian is peering over her shoulder, a puzzled expression on his face.
Damien steps aside to let her in, his arms folded across his chest.
As Hanna walks in, taking careful steps as though carrying something breakable, I notice that the bun that used to be on the top of her head is now tucked at the base of her neck. Her face looks softer than before, her lips curved in a tiny smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Steel.” She places the bundle in my arms and steps from the room.
I lower my gaze, and the blood gushes from my face. The shock is so sudden my body jerks and I almost drop the surprise. I blink several times to make sure my eyes are functioning properly.
Gazing back at me are the big brown eyes of a baby sucking on its fingers.
“See, I knew you’d be blown away.” Damien is sitting next to me again, touching a springy curl on the baby’s creamy forehead.
“Are you… are you out of your mind?” I attempt to hand the baby to him, but he stands up again and takes a few steps back.
“Maybe.” He rubs his chin. “Or maybe I’m just a loving husband who wants his wife to have a reason to wake up in the morning. I’m guessing you don’t feel too excited about waking up these days, do you?”
“You are crazy.” My body trembles along with the words, but I’m careful to keep the innocent baby steady in my arms.
“Stay calm around the baby. You don’t want to scare him, do you?” He steps forward again, leans down, and kisses the baby’s forehead. “You can decide on a name for him.”
The baby has fallen asleep, his long, thick eyelashes resting on his cheeks and his fingers still in his mouth. Warmth spreads through my chest.
I love children, and babies melt my heart, but it bothers me not to know what Damien’s plans are.
“Where did you get him?” I’m afraid to learn the answer, but it’s the most important thing right now.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t steal him, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He leans against the door to the walk-in wardrobe. “In fact, I happen to be his guardian angel right now.” He raises a hand. “I mean us. We are. The baby was found in a hotel bathroom a couple of days ago. I was shocked that someone would abandon a two-month old baby. I offered to give him a temporary home until a permanent one can be found.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets. “I told the cops and child protective services that my wife and I would be delighted to look after him for a couple of days. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to ask you first. You do love babies, don’t you? I recall you saying as much in one of your magazine interviews, about two years ago, when you were still working as a model. You said you hated being an only child, that you wanted a big family. We’ll have that family, eventually. This is a fantastic opportunity to practice, don’t you think? And it gives you something to do.”
While he’s talking, the door opens again, and Hanna and Adrian bring in several boxes of various sizes, which they place around the room.
The baby squirms and I look at him, thinking he’s about to wake up. His eyes flutter for a moment, but then he gives a soft sigh and sinks back into sleep.
I’m still paralyzed with shock as I watch Damien help Adrian and Hanna open the boxes, revealing all kinds of baby products.
Adrian exits the room and returns with a brand new changing table in distressed black, carried on one end by another man I haven’t seen before. Next they bring in a matching embroidered crib with carvings accenting the head- and footboard.
“Put it over there.” Damien points to an empty wall.
“Whaaat…” The words wedge themselves inside my tight throat before I can finish the sentence.
While I’m still struggling to react, Hanna brings in bags of diapers as well as shopping bags bursting with baby clothes, designer tags hanging out. A pure white wicker Moses basket is placed next to my bed, a few inches from where my feet are planted.
“Thanks, everyone.” Damien waves them out, and we’re alone once more. He ignores the shock on my face. “I hope you have everything you need for the baby. If you need anything else, let me know.” He glances at his watch. “I have some things to take care of. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Are you kidding me? What you’re doing is disgusting.”
“Many would disagree. I’m giving a child that could have died the opportunity to live. All I’m asking for is a little help from you. Is that too much to ask?”
“Why me? Hanna could look after him. Or you could get a nanny. I know nothing about looking after babies.”
“This is your chance to learn. One day we’re going to have children of our own.”
“What kind of twisted world do you live in?” I pause as the baby wriggles in my arms, bringing its face close to my breast. I drop my voice. “You’re delusional.”
“No. I’m in love with you, and I’m waiting for you to love me back, like you used to.”
“I never loved you. That was...” I laugh bitterly. “You can’t expect me to feel anything for you, not after everything you’ve done.”
“You’ll see it differently one day. I’ll wait.” With that he walks to the door and taps on it. It opens, and he leaves.
Hanna returns some minutes later, carrying a basket overflowing with bab
y formula, a kettle, a thermos, and a few baby bottles.
“He is a good man, Mr. Steel.” She places a warm bottle next to me. “He cares about people in need. He has helped so many poor people in this town.”
“What’s the name of this town, Hanna?” I ask before the moment slips away.
She shakes her head and walks to the door. “Mr. Steel will send me up to help you if you need me. I worked in an orphanage in Hungary. I saw many innocent babies suffer after their mothers left them behind.” Her smile wavers. “There was no one like Mr. Steel to save those poor babies.”
So I was right about her Eastern European accent. How did she come to work for Damien?
Before she disappears through the door, I swing my legs from the bed. “Please don’t go. I can’t…I can’t keep this baby.”
I don’t get to her fast enough: the door opens and closes, leaving me alone with a baby I don’t know. A baby that’s now awake and smiling at me.
This has to be some kind of joke, I think as I sink onto the bed and pick up the warm bottle. But if it’s a joke, why would Damien go to all the trouble of buying everything the baby needs?
I don’t know how I’ll be able to care for a baby when I’m a complete mess, when I can’t even help myself. He must be using the baby to distract me from thoughts of leaving him.
37
The baby is crying. The sound is so sharp and loud, it cracks the air like a whip. I stir for a moment, but I think it’s a dream and try to fall back asleep. When the cry gets louder and more desperate, reality sinks into my brain and I sit up. I place a hand on my forehead. It comes away drenched in sweat.
Shit, I think as the baby’s cry ratchets up another notch. I sweep back the covers and turn on the light, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. I still can’t believe Damien put an infant in my hands, and that he’s convinced we will one day be a real married couple, even though he kidnapped me and drugged me so I’d marry him.
My head is filled with fog as my feet touch the soft carpet, and like a zombie, I pad to the baby’s crib, wondering what time it is. The shutters are closed and there’s no clock, so I have no way of knowing. My guess is it’s sometime between midnight and dawn.
I blink away some of the fog, suck in a deep breath, and look into the crib.
As though a button has been pushed, the baby stops crying and the room fills with sudden silence. A lump forms inside my throat when his entire face breaks into a smile, his cheeks flushed pink, eyes bright with tears. Inside his sleep sack, he draws his little legs toward his tummy and then kicks them out in excitement.
“It’s okay, little one,” I whisper as I pick him up, one hand under his neck and head, and the other supporting his bottom.
The gentle smell of baby shampoo and powder surrounds both of us first, but that layer peels off to reveal one that’s a little less pleasant. I do my best to hold him the way Hanna had earlier. Hanna returned again a few minutes later to run me through the basics of caring for a baby: how to hold him, change him, and feed him.
I sat on the bed the entire time, pretending not to be listening. While I still believed Damien was playing a game and would come for the baby before the day was over, I listened, because underestimating him would be an even more dangerous game.
Before leaving, Hanna put a folder on my nightstand with the most important information I would need, should I forget something.
When the shutters closed and the baby was still with me, I’d gone through the folder briefly, fuming. Despite my hatred for Damien, the fact remains that I have a fragile human being to care for. I cannot mess up. The baby is innocent. I will not punish him for Damien’s evils.
“You need changing, don’t you?” Ensuring his neck is well supported, I move his head to the crook of my arm. “Let’s give it a try, shall we. Forgive me in advance if I get it wrong, okay?”
The baby gives a soft coo.
My heart clenches as I move him to the changing table. During the whole process of changing the diaper, I do my best to push away any thoughts of Damien. After several messy attempts at cleaning the baby up, I pull the front half of the new diaper up to his tummy and fasten it at both sides with the tabs. I redo it twice to make sure I get a snug fit, not too tight.
The baby coos again and plugs his thumb into his mouth.
A sigh of relief whooshes out of my lungs. “I’m glad you’re happy. Now, let’s feed you so we can both get back to sleep.”
Preparing the bottle takes me longer than changing the diaper; I carefully read the instructions on the formula but still make several mistakes along the way. When the bottle is ready, I screw the cap back on the thermos flask, and sprinkle a few drops of the bottled milk on the inside of my wrist. Perfect.
I lean against my pillows with the baby cradled in my arms as he sucks furiously on the bottle, the fingers of his right hand curled around my thumb.
Swallowing a sob, I touch the warm, soft crown of his head. His dark curls cling to my fingers. “You’re so beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you?” His mouth curls at the corners and I return his smile, my first in days or weeks. “Don’t worry. They’ll find you a good home with amazing parents.”
The baby gazes deep into my eyes and a thread of mutual comfort passes between us. I continue my soothing talk. “I hope you end up with a better life than mine.” I give him a bitter smile. “Mine is a bit complicated right now. If you happen to see me looking sad, it’s not your fault.”
One of my tears drops onto the baby’s nose, and I wipe it off with a finger. For a moment he stops sucking the bottle and blinks at me several times. His eyes are drooping now.
He’s changed, fed, and ready to sleep again. But he’s not done with the bottle yet. The sucking starts again. He raises a chubby hand to touch my chin. Is he telling me to continue talking? I sniff as I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “I don’t want to burden your little life with my problems. You won’t understand.”
I watch him finish his bottle in silence and his eyes close. Long after the feeding, I’m still holding him. At this moment in time, he feels like my lifeline.
38
Two days after the baby arrived, I find him gone. No warning, no goodbye.
When I wake up, the blinds have been opened, but the baby is not inside his crib. I must have been sleeping deeply since I didn’t hear a sound.
My sweaty hands grip the cold edge of the empty crib, my world spinning.
For two days, I did everything to care for the baby. I woke up several times a night to change and feed him. He filled my days with sounds instead of silence. I tickled his little toes and enjoyed the giggles I got back. I didn’t mean to form a bond with him, but it happened. Was that what Damien wanted? Did he want me to fall in love with the baby, then take him away to hurt me?
My vision goes red as I charge toward the door. “Where is he?” My words hit the air at the same time my fists slam against the wood. “Where’s the baby?”
“Everything is fine, Mrs. Steel.” Adrian’s voice is calm and gentle. Given that he never communicates with me from the other side, his response takes me by surprise. “Mr. Steel will be spending the day with the baby so you can get some rest.”
“Really?” I scoff, pressing my back against the door. “Suddenly he cares about how I feel? I don’t buy that for a second.” My teeth are gritted, my jaw tight. “If he cared about me at all, he’d let me out of this prison of a room.”
Adrian falls silent again. I try to get him talking again, but he doesn’t respond. Maybe he’s as confused about Damien’s plans as I am. I give up and return to bed. When my breakfast comes through the partition, I ignore it.
The baby is the only thing on my mind—his smile, the soothing sounds he makes. In only a few hours we had become some kind of team, giving each other comfort during our darkest time, both of us without a home. A flash of loneliness stabs me at the thought of never seeing his bright eyes and dimpled cheeks again.
After about an
hour, I drag myself out of bed again and splash my face with cold water. The breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee is cold by the time I eat it. Underneath the plate is a note from Damien.
Like a robot, I read it. I can never stop myself from reading the damn notes, even when the words destroy me.
Love of my life,
Watching you with the baby the past two days has brought immense joy to my heart. You will make a wonderful mother one day. After those sleepless nights, I thought you might appreciate some rest, a little time to yourself. As your husband, it’s my turn to care for the baby.
I can’t wait for the day we’ll look after our own children.
For now, get some rest and think of me. I love you, even if you find that hard to believe right now.
D.
I tear up the note, breaking the sentences and words until they’re nothing but a meaningless mess.
I spend the rest of the morning and afternoon on my bed, holding the baby’s stuffed giraffe to my body. Sometimes I stand at the window, looking out, waiting for Damien to bring him back. Night falls and the shutters close, but Damien doesn’t show up.
I’m on the verge of panic when the door opens. Hanna walks in with the baby in her arms. At the sight of his small face, my eyes fill with tears.
Saying nothing to Hanna, I take him and walk to the bed.
“Your husband was great with him. They played all day. He already gave him a bath and fed him for the night.”
Hanna leaves without a response from me. What can I say to her, or anyone? Everything happening around me is so confusing and bizarre.
I struggle to think of Damien as both a good man who rescues babies and gives them baths, and a monster who murders and kidnaps people. How is it possible for the core of a person’s heart to be both warm and cold?
The next day, Hanna appears with my breakfast tray and informs me that Mr. Steel has asked her to take the baby to him. She holds out her arms, and though I hesitate at first, I end up giving her the baby after pressing a kiss on his little fist. What choice do I have? He’s not mine.
