Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 02 - Papoosed

by Patricia Rockwell

  An announcement boomed out over the Happy Haven public address system.

  “Residents,” said the friendly young female voice, “don’t forget today is book day. Anyone who wishes to take the bus to the library, be at the front door by ten this morning. Also, don’t forget that we will have carolers from the Logan Street elementary school coming to sing to us this afternoon at four in the family room. Everyone will want to come down and listen to the beautiful Christmas music.” Normally, Essie would be one of the first residents at such a program, but she doubted that she’d be able to attend today if she still had charge of baby Antonio. She couldn’t very well take him to a vocal music program in the family room. As she mused about her activities, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and looked up into the adoring eyes of Hubert Darby. Hubert was dressed this morning in a festive green corduroy jacket. A sprig of holly was attached to his lapel. In his hands, he held a gift box wrapped in red and gold tinfoil paper.

  “Miss Essie,” announced Hubert, thrusting the gift towards her. “This is for you.” Essie was flustered as she accepted the gift. She was not used to receiving gifts from other residents–particularly male residents. Most residents didn’t have any means to purchase presents for their friends, unless they had a relative buy them. For that reason, most did not exchange gifts. When birthdays occurred, residents typically gathered for a celebration in the dining hall and Happy Haven provided a cake and candles and everyone sang “Happy Birthday!” That was generally enough present for most residents. It was certainly enough for Essie. The last thing she needed was more stuff cluttering up her apartment.

  “It’s …uh … peanut brittle, Miss Essie,” continued Hubert. He smiled a cheesy grin but his eyes were unable to focus on her face.

  “Hubert,” Essie replied tentatively, “I can’t eat peanut brittle much anymore because it’s so … hard to chew.”

  Hubert’s face sank. “I’m sorry, Miss Essie,” he stammered. “I thought you would like it. I didn’t think … about … .” His voice trailed away. He scowled and his entire large forehead wrinkled. He appeared to be contemplating a serious problem, not the properties of candy.

  “But, I’m very honored that you thought to buy this for me, Hubert,” said Essie, jumping in. This was the most voluble she had ever heard Hubert Darby and she didn’t want to discourage his efforts at communication–nor his sweet gesture. “I will enjoy it … even if I have to just suck on a piece of it from time to time.” She clutched the gift box to her chest and beamed up at Hubert.

  Hubert’s face turned a brilliant shade of red and he rocked back and forth on his tennis shoes just as he had done when he accosted her in her hallway the day before. Then, apparently lost for further words, he turned abruptly and shuffled out of the dining hall.

  Essie smiled to herself and took another sip of her coffee as she contemplated her present predicament–and that even included Hubert Darby. She knew that she would probably have to take action to discover the whereabouts of Maria Valdez Compton, because it was obvious that Santos did not have the time or the language skills or the knowledge of the community to track the missing mother down on his own. Essie was going to have to get involved in finding this Maria–and she was going to have to keep her efforts quiet. Where to start? She now knew the woman’s name, the husband’s name, and a possible clue as to where the husband worked. She had immediately honed in on the fact that Maria’s husband, Gerald Compton, worked for a company that had something to do with flowers. She would start there with a trip to her telephone directory.

  As she was planning her next steps, she looked up and noticed a woman heading towards her table. She immediately recognized the woman as Clara Monroe, her next door neighbor. Oh dear, thought Essie. I hope she hasn’t heard Antonio crying.

  “Essie Cobb,” said Clara, stopping on the other side of Essie’s table and slamming her purse down in front of her. “Whatever is going on in your room?” Clara, wearing a severe high-necked black dress, with her long grey hair wrapped in a tight bun, looked for all the world like the stereotypical gossip that Essie perceived her neighbor to be.

  Essie froze. Had the baby’s cries been that noticeable? Yes, he had cried a few times, but each time he did, either she or one of her friends had immediately diverted his attention with food or rocking or something.

  “What do you mean, Clara?” she asked cautiously, almost fearful that the determined little hen of a woman might pop her with the oversized black pocketbook that she was holding on to like some sort of weapon.

  “It sounds like you’re having some sort of convention over there in your apartment!” complained Clara, banging her purse on the table as she spoke in punctuation. “You must have had a crowd of fifty people there last night until all hours of the morning!” Clara clucked and harrumphed and added, “And with your television set playing so loud too!”

  “Oh, Clara,” interjected Essie, amused at Clara’s exaggerations. “I guarantee I didn’t have fifty people … or television.”

  Clara ignored Essie and continued, “And children! Lots of children, crying and whining!” This complaint, Essie noted was right on the mark. Clara continued listing Essie’s bad deeds. “Did your relatives come in from out of town? My Lord, they are a noisy bunch, Essie!”

  “No relatives, Clara,” said Essie, sweetly and truthfully. “I promise you. Actually… just a few friends. Opal and Marjorie, my tablemates. You know them. And Fay–and she doesn’t talk.”

  “Humph!” snorted the diminutive Clara, “Not likely! I’ve never heard so much noise! You have the loudest television set, Essie! I’m sure everyone in our hallway could hear it!”

  “Really, Clara?” asked Essie, actually amused. “No one else from our hall has mentioned it. In fact, Clara, if it bothered you so much last night, why didn’t you just knock on my door and complain about it then?”

  “What?” cried Clara with a start, dropping her purse on the table. She pulled on the collar of her dress and fidgeted with the goiter on her neck. “I would never think of complaining, Essie. It’s not in my nature!” She rose to her full height–which wasn’t much–and, grabbing her purse in an apparent defensive move, walked purposefully out of the dining hall.

  “Hmm,” said Essie as she took another sip of coffee. She glanced down at her watch. Only twenty minutes had elapsed since she’d left her room. Surely, Opal, Marjorie, and Fay were handling baby Antonio just fine. Part of her felt a need to return to her apartment and check on his welfare. Another part of her felt the need to force herself to just sit at her table–tablemates or not–and relax for a moment. After all, they said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. And she intended to at least let her food digest before returning into the excitement.

  Essie glanced around. Even fewer residents remained over their coffee. Kitchen staff members were now busy cleaning up the room and preparing for the noon time meal. She could see many of them through the kitchen entrance working diligently chopping vegetables and preparing casseroles. She couldn’t see Santos but was sure he was busy with his job and didn’t have time to do the kind of detecting work that needed to be done to help Maria and her baby.

  Over in the far corner by the window, two women were still eating. Essie didn’t know who they were, but she thought that they were very slow. It was one thing to linger over a cup of coffee, but it was strange for them to still be actually eating. One lady was quietly nibbling on a piece of buttered toast and the other was bent over her plate, slurping small pieces of fried egg into her mouth. With each bite, her movements seemed to become slower and slower. Essie became intrigued with the egg-eating woman and the incredibly slow speed at which she consumed her meal. She wondered if this woman spent this amount of time eating her breakfast every day. Did her friend stay at the table merely to keep her company and did she attempt to match her eating speed to that of her friend? It was a puzzle, but one that Essie contemplated with only a casual interest.

  Howe
ver, Essie’s interest in the slow eater increased when the woman suddenly looked up, bent over the side of her chair and vomited quite violently all over the floor. The woman’s friend shrieked in alarm, standing up. Quickly, several kitchen workers descended on the two women to see what had happened. As they saw the situation, one stayed with the sick woman, who was still bent over, continuing to heave. The second ran swiftly out of the dining room. Within a few seconds, she returned, followed by a nurse who attended to the bent over woman. Shortly, the nurse helped the sick woman up and guided her past Essie, out of the dining hall. The second woman followed behind them. The two kitchen workers quickly cleaned up the mess and began to scrub the carpet with disinfectant.

  In the years that Essie had been at Happy Haven, she’d seen many residents require medical attention. She had seen some faint. She had seen some fall and suffer injuries. She had even seen one resident die in front of her. This was the first time Essie had seen someone vomit. She wondered if the woman had experienced food poisoning or if she just had the flu. Either way, it wasn’t good. Happy Haven was not filled with young Olympic athletes, so injuries, food poisoning, and harmful bacteria and viruses were not welcome here. On any other day, Essie might have been very curious about just what had happened to cause the slow eating lady to get sick so suddenly, but today was not one of those days. Today she had another, bigger problem.

  Santos popped back into the dining hall, bringing coffee to a straggler near the entrance. As he whizzed past her, she grabbed his elbow.

  “Santos,” she said, looking up into his pre-occupied face, “if you hear anything about you-know-whom, please come by my apartment and let me know. I’m in B114.”

  “Si, Miss Essie,” he replied, barely stopping on his way, “B114. I come see you if I hear anything.” He expertly lifted the full cup of coffee in the air so it would not drip on Essie and then continued on his way towards the gentleman by the door. Essie grabbed her gift-wrapped box of peanut brittle–the token of affection from Hubert Darby–and headed back to her apartment.

  Chapter Nine

  “Father asked us, ‘What was God’s noblest work?’ Anna said, ‘Men,” but I said ‘Babies.’ Men are often bad, but babies never are.”

  –Louisa May Alcott

  Back in her apartment, Essie found her three friends gathered around Fay’s wheelchair which was parked in front of Essie’s large front window. Fay was holding up baby Antonio as Marjorie reached up to the row of Christmas bells that hung from Essie’s windows. As Marjorie touched each colorful bell and made it sound, the baby boy’s eyes seemed to follow her hands. He cooed and gurgled in apparent delight.

  “Essie, you’re back!” cried Opal. “What’s that present?”

  “Oh, this,” mumbled Essie as she placed the gift-wrapped box on her end table next to her snow globe, “just something from … Hubert.”

  “Hubert!” cried Marjorie. “He gave you a Christmas present, Essie?”

  “It’s just candy, Marjorie,” replied Essie, “not the Hope Diamond.” She sneered at her friend. “How’s the baby?”

  “Antonio loves music, Essie!” called out Marjorie from the window. “Watch!” She again punched the plastic bells in a row and, for certain, the baby did appear to wiggle and giggle in a full body response to the sound.

  “He likes music,” reiterated Opal. “He’s probably going to be a musician.” The three women left the window and moved into the center of Essie’s living room. Essie sat down in her lounge chair, and Marjorie and Opal took their accustomed places on her sofa with Fay guiding her wheelchair to the center of the room–baby Antonio in her arms.

  “So, Essie,” began Marjorie, “did Santos find Antonio’s mother?”

  “No,” replied Essie forlornly. She looked from one sad face to another and then all four women gazed at the little boy who apparently was now an orphan.

  “I don’t understand,” continued Opal. “This woman just up and left her newborn child! How could a woman do such a thing? She doesn’t deserve to keep him!”

  “Now, don’t say that, Opal,” cautioned Essie. “According to Santos, Maria is protecting the baby. The father is abusive, remember?”

  “So, where is she?” asked Opal. “I can understand wanting to take him away from the father, but why did she abandon him?”

  “Santos says she’s trying to protect him,” said Essie, defensively.

  “It doesn’t look like it to me,” argued Opal.

  “I don’t know, Opal,” interjected Marjorie. “We don’t know what that poor woman has gone through. The husband beat her. And don’t forget he beat that poor helpless baby too! I think we should give her the benefit of the doubt! I think we should give her a little bit more time to try to work things out … whatever that entails.”

  “Yes,” agreed Essie, “particularly if informing social services about Antonio might result in his being returned to the father. Surely we all agree that we can’t let that happen.”

  “You really think the authorities would return the baby to the father?” asked Marjorie with incredulity.

  “I wouldn’t put it past them,” said Essie. “He is the legal parent. The mother has abandoned the child so technically the father would get custody.”

  “We can’t let that happen,” said Opal, a fierce look of determination on her regal face.

  “We can’t,” agreed Marjorie.

  “Fay?” asked Essie. All three women looked at their quiet fourth member holding the baby. Fay looked down warmly at the child in her arms. Then she looked up at each of her friends and gave a tiny nod.

  “Wonderful,” said Essie. “So, obviously we need to do at least what we did yesterday and manage to feed and change the baby. If you three can help me in those duties, I’d also like to do some investigating to try to track down Maria or her husband. Santos has been attempting to contact Maria but he’s so new to this country that I’m not sure he knows how to look for someone. Also, he just doesn’t have the time to spend on this if he wants to keep his job. We have to help him.”

  “Of course, we can help!” announced Marjorie for the group. “What should we do first?”

  “I’m guessing food will come first,” replied Essie. “I fed Antonio just before you three arrived … .”

  “We fixed another bottle for him with my generic stuff while you were gone,” said Opal. “When he’s hungry, we’re ready.”

  “Marvelous marbles!” cried Essie in glee. “Marjorie and Fay, maybe you two can figure out a new outfit for Antonio.”

  “I know what you mean, Essie,” said Marjorie. “The little shirt he has on is filthy!” At that, Fay’s eyes lit up and she raised her hand in the air.

  “Fay?” asked Essie, wondering what the quiet little woman was trying to say. Fay pointed to Antonio’s shirt and carefully handed the baby over to Marjorie. Then she pressed the button on the wheelchair arm and headed out Essie’s front door with a wave.

  “Good Gertrude!” exclaimed Essie, “I wonder if she intends to go shopping for baby clothes. Anyway, Marjorie, Antonio is your charge for now. I’m going to do some telephoning.”

  As the three remaining women attended to their appointed tasks, the public address system crackled to life. A young woman’s gentle voice spoke soothingly.

  “Residents, we will be doing our quarterly bug spraying this morning. The exterminators will be by your apartments during the next few hours. You may wish to vacate your apartments for a few hours after the spraying, particularly if you are sensitive to chemicals.”

  “What?” screamed Essie. “No! Not now! We can’t have some bug man in here! What will we do with Antonio?”

  “Calm down, Essie,” said Opal from the kitchen where she was getting the glove bottle ready. “When he gets here, we’ll just slip Antonio in your walker basket and take him for a walk.”

  “Opal,” cried Marjorie, “you aren’t thinking of taking him outdoor, are you? He’d freeze!”

  “No!” responded Essie,
sitting at her desk with her telephone in her hand. “Oh, leaping lobotomies! We don’t need this distraction now!”

  “We can handle it, Essie,” replied Opal. “It’s three of us to one poor exterminator!”

  “Not a match!” said Marjorie in response. Essie smirked at her friends and continued running her finger down the columns of building construction companies in the business pages of her telephone book. “What are you looking for, Essie?”

  “I’m trying to find Antonio’s mother,” Essie replied, now using her desk-top magnifying glass to read the extremely small print in the large phone book. “Santos said Maria’s husband, Gerald Compton, works for a building company that is somehow connected to flowers.”

  “Can’t you just call him at home?” asked Opal, bringing over a filled glove bottle and handing it to Marjorie who quickly began feeding Antonio. The baby gurgled and began slurping hungrily on the plastic finger. Opal edged herself onto the sofa next to Marjorie, her walker beside Marjorie’s.