by Julia London
Hannah’s eyes flashed with anger. “You have no idea how deep my resentments run,” she said, her voice shaking. “Get out of my way. I have to go now.”
“Take Mason,” Holly said sternly.
Hannah glared at her a long moment. “Fine,” she said, and took Mason from Holly. “Can you hand me his bag?”
Holly eyed her skeptically, then slowly moved away from the door to get the bag. She hadn’t taken but a few steps when she heard the door open. She whirled around; Hannah was standing at the threshold, her hand on the knob, her gaze on Mason, who was sitting in chair, watching his mother curiously. “Take good care of him,” Hannah said, her voice breaking. “I’ll be back.”
“Hey … hey!” Holly cried, and lunged for the door, but Hannah was already outside. “You can’t abandon him!” Holly said frantically. “I swear to God, if you go, I will call the police and tell them you abandoned your baby!”
“Great plan, Holly! They’ll come and take Mason and put him in foster care.”
Holly gasped.
“God, don’t look so shocked. Can you, just this once, do something for me? Do you really think I would ask if I didn’t need you now more than ever? Just do this one thing for me, Holly. Please. I will be back, but right now I have to go. And you have to believe me when I tell you that I wouldn’t do this, I would not leave—” A loud sob escaped Hannah, and she looked as if she would be sick, but swallowed hard as she backed away from Holly’s door. “You have to believe me—I would not leave my son if I didn’t absolutely have to.”
“How can you do this?” Holly cried, and tried to grab Hannah’s arm, but Hannah darted out of reach.
Behind them, Mason started to cry. Hannah looked as if she could not breathe. “I am counting on you, Holly,” she said roughly, and abruptly turned and ran down the stairs as her son cried for her.
Chapter Five
The first thing Holly did was try to reach Loren, but predictably, she got no response from his cell. She dialed it three times just to make sure. She next called her manager to announce she would not be in to work today as Mason wailed in the background.
As she expected, Lucy was unhappy with Holly for ditching her shift. “It’s after three, Holly. Your shift starts at five thirty. Who am I supposed to get to cover for you at this late notice? Did you at least try and find someone to cover?”
“I did,” Holly said apologetically. “I called Elliot but he couldn’t cover.”
“Great.” Lucy sighed irritably. “You know we get slammed about this time. Are you going to be in tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Holly said emphatically. She would not lose another shift; she couldn’t afford to lose another shift. And besides, as much as she loved Mason, he was not her responsibility. Loren the Asshole could look after his son if Hannah wasn’t going to do it. “Thanks, Lucy. I am really sorry. I had no idea this was going to happen.”
“Okay, fine,” Lucy said crisply. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but right now I need to get off the phone and find someone to cover.”
“See you tomorrow,” Holly said but Lucy had already hung up.
Mason, who had not yet begun to walk, but who was, Holly had discovered, quite adept at pulling himself up and moving around by using the furniture, had stopped crying and was standing next to her, his hands flat on the cabinet, looking up as if he expected her to do something.
What she was supposed to do, Holly had no idea. She picked him up. “It’s okay, Mase,” she said, and leaned down to pick up the duffel Hannah had left. It was heavy. Holly tossed it up onto the bar and tried to unzip it, but she couldn’t do that and hold Mason at the same time and had to put him down again.
Mason howled. “Don’t cry, sweetie,” she said in a singsongy voice. “People will think I am beating you.” She grinned as she unzipped the bag. It was stuffed full with toys and clothes and diapers. Just how long was Hannah going to be gone? “Oh, look! Look, Mason, look!” she cried, latching onto a tiger in the bag. She held it up and shook it. Mason paused in his crying and looked with wonder at the tiger.
“Hooray!” Holly said. That was it, that was all she needed, one of his favorite toys. She bent down to give it to him, and Mason instantly put it in his mouth. “Thank God,” Holly muttered under her breath, and stood up again to inspect the contents of the bag. The moment she did, Mason threw down the tiger and started to cry again.
“Hey, baby, what’s wrong? What’s wrong with Tiger?” she asked, scooping up the stuffed toy. Mason swiped at it, trying to knock it out of her hand. “He’s not your favorite toy?” She could kill Hannah for this. Poor Mason had no idea what was going on. Holly tried offering him the tiger again, but this time he knocked it out of her hand and sent it scudding across the tile.
“Are you hungry?” she asked hopefully, and stood up again to inspect the jars of baby food in the bag. Strained peas. Strained carrots. Strained peas and carrots. “Look, Mason, look!” she said, gaining his attention. “I have peas!”
Mason looked truly interested in that, and held up his fat little arms for her.
She picked him up and looked around for something small enough to feed him with. She had nothing. She rooted around in the duffel bag and found nothing there, either. She opened her cutlery drawer and examined her utensils. All of her spoons were too big for him. Holly closed the drawer. Mason was crying again, trying to reach the jar of peas. Measuring spoons! Holly opened another drawer and found her one set of rarely used measuring spoons. They were ceramic, and the half teaspoon would work. “We’re in business, kiddo,” she said confidently.
She sat with Mason in her lap on a bar chair and fed him strained peas. He seemed to like that; he pounded the bar with his palms, and once, when she was distracted by the duffel bag again, he fit his fingers into the jar.
While he smeared peas all over her countertop and himself, Holly tried Loren again. It rolled into voice mail. “Loren, you better call me back,” she said after the tone. “This is an emergency!” She called Hannah, too, in the tiny hope that Hannah might pick up and Holly could reason with her. No luck there, either. “Hannah, you are not getting away with this!” she yelled into the phone.
When Mason had polished off most of the jar of peas, he began to fuss again.
“You’re supposed to be happy and full, like all the babies on TV. Why aren’t you happy?” Holly asked, and tickled his belly. “Smile, Mase! You had peas—who doesn’t smile for peas?”
Mason opened his mouth, revealing a half dozen perfect little teeth, and wailed again.
Holly reared back. “Okay, okay,” she cooed as she wiped him down with a wet paper towel. She had forgotten to look for a bib. “Are you still hungry?” She picked up a jar of carrots, but Mason pushed it away. “What about thirsty?” Holly persisted, and searched the duffel bag to find a sippy cup. Mason didn’t like that, either. He kept crying, his face as red and round as a big tomato.
Did he miss his mother already, or was it something else? Could he be sick? Holly touched his face, but he didn’t seem unusually warm. Not that she would know what unusually warm was for a baby. Maybe he was just tired. Babies napped all the time, she thought. But where could she put him down to nap in this apartment and continue to work? She was living in a studio loft. She couldn’t put him in the bedroom for fear that he would crawl to the railing that overlooked the room below, slip through the iron bars, and fall. She couldn’t leave him down here, because the piano would keep him up.
His cries were unbearable. She tried to soothe him, and when that didn’t work, she had to put him down so she could look in that damn duffel bag for some clue as to how to quiet him. But that made Mason furious. He screamed at her now, using the couch to pull himself up, then falling on his bottom and doing it all again. “Hold on, Mason, hold on,” she urged him, and dumped the contents of the duffel on her couch, looking for something—anything—that would tell her why he was crying. A cascade of diapers tumbled out, and Holly suddenly remembered Hannah the d
ay of the funeral, coldly telling her that babies needed to be changed after napping.
Holly picked up a diaper and put Mason on his back. He didn’t resist her; he just rubbed his fists into his eyes and continued to cry as she peeled off his overalls and diaper. “Oh God, Mason,” she said when she had them off. The poor kid was soaked, his skin raw and red. She had no idea how long he’d been sitting in urine. “Oh, sweetie, you have to forgive me,” she said apologetically, and tossed the offending diaper aside.
She wiped him down, spread some diaper rash cream—which made him scream louder—and then sprinkled baby powder on him. By the time she had a clean diaper on him, he had quieted and was watching her with big blue eyes, as if he didn’t quite trust her. “I don’t blame you,” Holly said, and stroked his cheek. “I’ll be honest with you, Mase. I don’t know much about babies.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead before she picked him up. Mason laid his head on her shoulder and sighed.
“Yessir, it’s been kind of a trying day for both of us, hasn’t it? I think we both could use a nap.” She managed to pull a lap rug off her couch and laid it on the floor. She put Mason on top of it and the stuffed tiger next to him. Now Mason put his arm around the toy and rolled onto his side with a sigh.
Holly sighed too. She tossed the dirty diaper into the garbage, filled a bottle she found with water—she didn’t have milk—and then lay down beside him. Mason gripped his bottle and sighed again. A moment later, his eyes had fluttered shut and his long dark lashes lay against the smooth skin of his cheek.
He was exhausted. Of course he was. He’d be a year in … wow, in about two weeks. He surely sensed something awful had happened today. He surely missed his mother and his father. Although he knew Holly, he had to be wondering why she was here and his mommy wasn’t, and why he was lying on a floor and not in his own bed, and why he was eating peas and not solid foods.
It was so unfair that the life of this perfect, precious, plump little boy had somehow disintegrated. How could anyone do that to him? And Hannah! She’d completely wigged out.
Loren, that ass. Holly was convinced that Hannah’s strange appearance and disappearance was because of him.
Why didn’t Hannah tell me? Had they really drifted that far apart? It made Holly sad that her own sister didn’t feel as if she could talk to her. Had Hannah known Loren was cheating? Had she been surprised by it? Had she suspected it? Holly would have been sympathetic. She would have had Hannah’s back, would have stood up for her, would have helped her. Did Hannah really not know that? Had Hannah honestly believed the only way to ask Holly for help was to abandon her son here? Sure, they’d had their differences, but they were sisters.
Holly looked down at Mason. It was all so unbelievable. Holly told herself not to panic: Hannah would come back. She was upset with Loren, but she’d be back. Hannah was the most competent person Holly had ever known. When Dad had died, Holly and her mother had been useless. Hannah, at the age of twenty-one, had been the only one of the three of them who could hold it together and see things through. Holly was ashamed that that was true, but she’d been so attached to her father, and she hadn’t been able to cope with the reality that he was gone. Her father had never criticized her like her mother had. When Holly had wanted to pursue things different from what Hannah was doing, her father had been her biggest cheerleader, no matter what it was. The sudden death of her ally had left her reeling.
Mason moaned in his sleep and rolled onto his back. He looked like Loren, Holly thought. He’d be a cute kid, a handsome man. She just prayed he didn’t inherit any more of his father’s traits.
Hannah had always taken care of Loren too. Regardless of how often Holly’s mother would say Loren was a good man, Holly had sensed the truth almost from the moment she met him. He was a user, and he’d wanted a trophy wife. Hannah had proven to be an excellent one. They’d bought the house in Tarrytown, and Hannah had made it the showplace Loren had wanted. Holly had never heard Hannah say an unkind word about all the hunting and golfing that kept Loren away from home each weekend. Hannah had just continued to plan the gourmet meals she made for him during the week on the heels of working ten- and twelve-hour days.
Hannah was a strong woman, there was no debate about that. Too strong, perhaps. So strong that she had refused to ask for help and then reached the point where she had to dump her son on her sister.
Mason’s plump lips were slightly open; he was breathing deeply, fast asleep. Holly eased herself up off the floor, grabbed her phone, and stepped into her bathroom to call Loren.
“Hey, Holly,” he said, answering on the second ring.
Holly was so startled that she didn’t respond at first.
“Holly?”
“Yes, I am here,” she said. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”
“You’ve got me. What’s the emergency?” he asked.
Holly leaned against the bathroom counter. “I heard you left.”
“I figured that was what this was about,” he said with an impatient sigh. “Look, let’s cut right to the chase. It was a long time coming. You know your sister, how she is.”
“I know she is entirely devoted to you and Mason—that’s how she is, Loren. And what do you mean, ‘It was a long time coming’? For who? Not for Hannah. Not for Mason.”
“God,” he muttered irritably. “I really don’t expect you to understand—”
“You’re right,” she interjected angrily. “I have never understood what can lead a person to cheat on the one person they have vowed to be faithful to, and I have definitely never understood you, Loren. Hannah was so good to you. She did everything you ever wanted. She was the perfect wife—”
“I thought your message said there was an emergency,” he said curtly.
“Just a bit,” she said sarcastically. “I heard about your cheating only today, when Hannah dropped Mason off at my apartment, unannounced, and then took off. You need to come get your son, Loren. He is not my responsibility and I’m not getting in the middle of this thing between you guys.”
“What do you mean, she took off?” Loren demanded angrily, as if Hannah had no right to take off, as if he were the only one who had the right to leave.
“She left! She said she had to go somewhere and she wouldn’t say when she’d be back. But judging by the amount of clothes and diapers she left, Mason might be a teenager before she comes back.”
“She’ll be back,” Loren scoffed. “She just needs a break.”
“This was more than just needing a break,” Holly argued. “I’ve never seen my sister like this. Something is definitely wrong, and I’m worried about her.”
“Wrong? There’s nothing wrong.”
“She wasn’t herself.”
“Was she lucid?” he snapped.
“Lucid! Yes, she was lucid.”
“Well, then what, Holly? Do you think she is going to try and hurt herself?”
“What? No!” Holly cried angrily.
“There is nothing wrong,” he repeated. “She’s just being a drama queen.”
Holly’s pulse was racing now. “You need to come and get your son,” she said evenly. “Do you know that he is sleeping on the floor of my apartment right now?”
“I can’t come get him,” Loren shot back, as if that were the most preposterous thing Holly had ever said. “I’ve got too much going on right now.”
“Loren!”
“He’ll be fine with you,” Loren said. “Hannah will be back soon. Trust me, she dotes on that boy. She’s probably off doing something to make my life hell.”
“I can’t take your son! I have a lot of work to do, and my apartment is so small that he can’t escape the music! So please come and get him.”
“Holly, you’re not listening: I can’t take care of him right now! You’re just going to have to do your best until Hannah comes back. Mason is not going to bother you or impede your ability to write songs,” he said in a tone that suggested he didn’t think there was m
uch to the art of composing.
“Have you heard anything that I’ve said?” Holly cried. “Can you imagine any scenario in which Hannah would abandon Mason? Do you even care that the mother of your child is having some sort of crisis right now?”
“If she doesn’t come back, call me. But I am not going to change my plans because Hannah is throwing some jealous fit. That’s what this is, you know. It’s been over a long time, and she knows it, but she’s still throwing a tantrum. She didn’t have the guts to try and confront me, so she’s trying to manipulate me through you. I have to go. Call me in a few days if she hasn’t shown up.”
Holly heard the click of the phone as Loren hung up. She gaped at her cell phone. “What an asshole!” she cried, and sank down onto her haunches, pushing a hand through her hair. How had Hannah stayed with him so long?
What was she going to do? She didn’t have food for Mason. She didn’t have a bed for him. She didn’t even have a car seat! And she had to work. She had to work. She was not going to blow the opportunity of a lifetime because of Hannah. But Holly had a very bad feeling about this—so bad, she was suddenly having a little trouble catching her breath.
This was a crisis, and Holly’s life had been so blissfully free of crises that she had no idea what to do, where to turn.
Check on the baby.
Holly left the bathroom and walked back into the living area. Mason was still asleep. He’d rolled onto his stomach and had the bottle clamped in his mouth. He looked like a little angel lying there, like one of the babies they used in ads for toilet paper and fabric softener.
The enormity of what was happening was beginning to sink in. “Okay,” she whispered, and rubbed her palms on her faded jeans with the holes in the knees. She just had to think logically. What would Hannah do? Hannah would say something about taking the first step. Okay, the first step. What is the first step, Hannah?
