Replacement Baby

by Mary Ann Smart

  “Thank you, Lionel!” Rose exclaimed, surprised. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. For a moment, she felt his bare chest against her and the warmth of his body.

  Lionel hugged her back and did not let go. Rose finally pulled away and realized her cheeks were red.

  “Sorry,” she apologized. “I guess I’m just excited.”

  “No apology necessary,” Lionel said quietly with a smile on his face.

  They awkwardly said good-night and Lionel told her he would wake her up in the morning.

  * * *

  Rose lay awake in bed thinking about tomorrow’s train ride into the country to hopefully meet the woman who was her birth mother. What will I say? Rose wondered. How will I tell this woman that I think I’m her daughter? Will L. G. Jenner be easy to find? And once I find her, will L.G. Jenner truly be Loretta Grigsby Jennings?

  Then Rose’s mind went to the moment when she hugged Lionel. It had been awkward, but that was mostly because she had felt embarrassed. She realized that she had liked the feeling of his body against hers. And he had hugged her right back. Gosh, what am I thinking? It’s Lionel. He’s a nice guy, but… he’s no Rodney.

  There was so much to think about. Tomorrow, she might find her birth mother. Tomorrow she might find her place in life. She might find peace and love and comfort. Rose wrapped her arms around her chest.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lionel knocked on her door at four in the morning. Rose glanced toward the window and noticed that it was still quite dark outside. She blinked her eyes in the darkness of her bedroom.

  “Wake up, Rose!” Lionel whispered loudly from the other side of the door. “I want to catch the five am train. Hurry up! I left a note for my parents telling them we decided to take a ride into the country, so they won’t miss us. Come on, wake up!”

  “I’m up, I’m up,” Rose grumbled, lifting her tired body out of the bed. She quickly brushed her hair and teeth, and slipped into a sundress.

  Twenty minutes later, they were out the door. Rose wore her rain coat, because it was still the only coat she had and the morning air was a bit chilly. Lionel grabbed her hand to hurry her along. She pressed her lips together to hide her smile as they jogged toward the nearest Tube station. It was still dark outside, but a little light was beginning to peek through the trees and from behind the shorter buildings on the streets.

  As they rode on the train and spoke in quiet voices, Rose realized that Lionel looked more attractive than normal, with his dark hair swooping down over his forehead. She remembered their hug the night before and hoped that she had not blushed at the memory of it.

  The train jolted to a stop.

  “This is our stop,” said Lionel as he jumped out of his seat. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Let’s go.” He gently grabbed her arm and led her through the crowds and to the door. They climbed several flights of stairs up to where the aboveground trains rested, waiting all in a row to leave. Lionel purchased their tickets and they boarded the train heading North with eight minutes to spare.

  By the time they left the station, the full dawn had come. Rose pressed her face against the window and smiled as the buildings became fewer and fewer and the trees more and more. Soon there were pastures and villages and cottages. This was exactly what she thought of when she thought of the English countryside. She spotted quaint and welcoming signs for towns and villages along the way: St. Albans, Luton, Toddington, Flitwick, Bedford, and Wellingborough.

  Lionel was silent for most of the journey. He pointed out a few pretty scenes along the way and made a handful of polite comments, but that was all.

  Rose smiled so widely that her cheeks became sore after she saw the sign for the town of Kettering. I’m here. I’m finally here. I’m going to see my mother today. I am going to see her face to face and say to her, “It’s me! It’s me, your daughter, Rose Garnet Jennings!”

  “Here we are,” Lionel said when the train stopped. Rose grabbed her purse and jumped up. She hurried away down the aisle, almost leaving Lionel behind.

  “Hey, wait for me!” he called after her. Rose barely heard him.

  Rose stepped off the train and into the warm morning sunlight. The long, red brick building had several tall chimneys which seemed to reach to the blue, cloudless sky. It was a perfect day. Rose breathed in the fresh, country air. Lionel caught up to her and followed as she went to the ticket counter.

  “Getting the return tickets already?” Lionel asked.

  “No,” said Rose with determination. “I’m sure L.G. Jenner takes the train into London sometimes. That’s where her publisher is. I already researched it. I’m just going to ask this man if he knows where she lives.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Rose stepped up to the glass window. An old man with white hair and spectacles stood in front of her. He was short and wearing a green vest.

  “Pardon me, sir,” she said. “I was wondering if you knew where the children’s author, L.G. Jenner, lives.”

  “L.G. Jenner,” the man repeated. “Well, I have heard that she lives around here. But I’m afraid that I have never caught a glimpse of her here in the railway station.”

  Rose nodded in disappointment. “Thank you, sir.”

  “So, where else should we look?” Rose asked, exasperated.

  “Well, she has to buy food somewhere. So let’s ask someone in the grocery store,” Lionel suggested.

  “I like that idea!” said Rose, feeling a bit more hopeful.

  They wandered out into the street. They looked right and left, and saw many small shops, but no grocery store. They continued to walk, and glanced around as they did.

  “Should we go left or right?” Lionel asked.

  “Um, let’s try right,” suggested Rose. They walked along for several blocks until they were out of Kettering and in a nearby village called Eldershire. In Eldershire, they found a small grocery store.

  Rose went in and waited in line to speak to a cashier. The women in front of her in line were babbling on about the price of hamburger beef. A man in front of them was counting a handful of coins. After several minutes, it was finally Rose’s turn in the line.

  “Can I help you, miss?” the young cashier asked when she saw that Rose had no grocery items to purchase.

  “Oh, yes,” said Rose. “I’m looking for the author, L.G. Jenner. Do you know where she lives?”

  “Hm, L.G. Jenner,” the woman mumbled. “I do recall that she lives outside of town somewhere off of Abbotsford Road. I can’t say for certain, however.”

  “That’s good enough, thank you,” Rose said, smiling, as she walked away.

  “Wait,” said the girl. “I have to warn you. I’ve heard she’s a bit of a loner and that she isn’t too friendly. She might not want visitors.”

  “Thank you,” said Rose, her smile fading. What if her mother refused to speak to her?

  Rose found Lionel staring at the cheeses in the dairy aisle. “You hungry?” she asked when she saw him, laughing.

  “Well, now that you mention it, yes,” Lionel replied. Rose told him about her findings.

  “What if she won’t even answer the door for us?” she asked, her voice filled with worry.

  “Let’s not even think about that,” Lionel said, touching her arm. “Let’s go find a restaurant and eat some breakfast. Maybe we can ask around a little more, as well. This Abbotsford Road could be long. Sometimes country roads are that way, you know? Seemingly endless.”

  Rose smiled and nodded, even though she had never really been on a country road before and had no knowledge of such things. They walked to a restaurant next door and ordered traditional English breakfasts of hard boiled eggs, steaming hot baked beans, sliced red tomato, and crispy sausages. Rose’s stomach rumbled as the large plate was set before her. She ate hungrily.

  “Slow down,” Lionel joked. “You don’t want to choke.”

  Rose smiled and reached ac
ross to hit him on the arm playfully. He smiled back and shook his head.

  “Admitting defeat already?” Rose glanced at him coyly.

  “Well, I’m not going to hit a girl,” he told her.

  “Why not? I dare you to try,” Rose challenged him.

  “Oh, I see how it is.” Lionel grinned. He reached over and grabbed her wrist. “What are you going to do now?”

  With all her strength, Rose pulled her arm away. “Not very strong today, are you?” She winked.

  “I’m just going easy on you,” Lionel admitted.

  “Well, you don’t need to,” Rose informed him. “I’m stronger than you think.”

  He reached out to grab her arm and she pulled it away, laughing. Behind her, someone coughed loudly.

  “We’d better stop,” she said, suddenly aware of their surroundings. “We might get kicked out of the restaurant for being disruptive.”

  “Oh yes,” Lionel said with a fake British accent. “We are in jolly old England, where things must be very proper. Very proper indeed.”

  “Indeed, indeed!” Rose replied with her own attempt at an accent. She lifted a bone china cup of tea to her lips with her pinky out.

  Rose felt more hopeful than she had in as long as she could remember. In the next few hours, she could be standing in front of L.G. Jenner. She could be locking eyes with her birth mother, at last.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lionel paid for a cab to take them to the beginning of Abbotsford Road, which lay to the East of the town of Kettering and the village of Eldershire. Vast fields sloped down, dotted with trees. Among them were cottages and barns here and there.

  “We should walk,” Rose had suggested earlier. “We may see a name on a mailbox or on a sign above the door. These are things we might miss if we are driving.”

  Lionel agreed, even though he had reminded her that the road was probably long. They began their trek, talking along the way. The first cottage looked abandoned, and the next one had the name “Hendrick” on the mailbox. They passed several signs bearing other names, including Smyth, Watson, Anderson, and Pennington.

  The next cottage had no name on the mailbox or the house to identify it. The roof sloped down and the windows were diamond shaped. It was made of worn grey stone.

  “Should we knock on the door?” Rose asked with hesitation.

  Lionel shrugged. “I guess so.”

  They walked up the winding dirt path and down a slight hill to the front door. Rose took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock hard on the door.

  No answer.

  She knocked again, this time harder. Still, no one came to the door. There were no signs of life from inside.

  “Could we check back here later, maybe?” she asked.

  “Of course,” agreed Lionel.

  They continued on. The road became dusty. Soon Rose’s ankles and legs were covered in dust, as well as her shoes. The day became warm and her hair was soon plastered to her face and her clothes stuck to her skin. Of course, I look disheveled to meet my birth mother, Rose thought with disappointment. She glanced over at Lionel, who appeared to be equally dusty and sweaty.

  The next building was a barn, and the one after that had a family name on the mailbox. They passed a dairy farm and an abandoned stone house. Up ahead, they could see a small, plaster-walled cottage on the right, which was set near the road. Rose quickened her step. She felt drawn to this quaint cottage, which was only a couple yards away from the dusty road they walked on.

  Rose knocked firmly on the door. A minute later, an older woman with messy white hair and a stained apron pulled open the door with a loud creak. She squinted her eyes at Rose.

  “Yes, can I help you?” she asked with skepticism.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Rose said. “But we are looking for the author, L.G. Jenner. Does she live here?”

  “Hmph, author,” the woman muttered. “Yes, I think I do recall some author lady living near here,” she said, more loudly this time. “If you go down the road about half a mile, there should be a small cottage with a flower garden in front. It’s on the left and it’s beyond a patch of trees. It’s set back from the road, so you have to be looking for it. It’s quite hidden, you see. I believe that is where the author lady lives.”

  “Oh, thank you, ma’am!” Rose said, smiling.

  “Now, I’ll warn you,” the woman continued. “I have heard that she likes to keep to herself. She doesn’t welcome visitors. So she may not even answer the door for you. She’s not as pleasant as I am. When I heard you knocking, I stopped my canning to come here and speak to you two.”

  “We are sorry to take you away from your canning!” Rose apologized, her voice filled with excitement at the information from the woman. “Thank you very much for the information!”

  Rose practically skipped down the road when they set off again. She quickened her pace, determined to find the cottage tucked behind a patch of trees with a flower garden in front. She no longer minded the dust or the sweat.

  “Rose, I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Lionel cautioned. “That lady said she believes that’s where the author lives.”

  “It has to be it. It has to!” Rose exclaimed. “She spoke so specifically about this little cottage. It has to be.” Rose’s walk turned into a jog.

  “Hey, wait up!” Lionel called after her.

  Together, they tromped across the dusty road. They went up a hill and then down. As they walked, the road curved slightly. They stopped for a few moments beneath the shade of a large tree.

  “I wish I had some water,” Lionel noted.

  Rose nodded in agreement.

  “Maybe we can find a brook nearby,” suggested Lionel.

  “A brook?” asked Rose. “Like, a stream? Drink water from a stream, just like that?” Her eyes grew wide.

  Lionel laughed. “Oh, Rose, you are such a city girl. The water is clean here in the country.”

  “Oh,” said Rose, feeling slightly embarrassed.

  They left the shady area and walked down an embankment, where they soon heard the trickle of a brook. They followed the sound until they found a dip in the land nearby and a narrow stream winding through it. They cupped their hands and took large, quick gulps of water. Washing the dust off their legs and feet, Rose and Lionel splashed around in the cool, shallow water. When they were through drinking, they continued to walk down the dusty road. The sun kissed Rose’s cheeks and nose, and she felt as if more freckles were about to appear on her already dotted face face. She shielded her eyes from the brightness of the sunlight with her hand as she viewed the landscape.

  They climbed back up the embankment and walked back onto the dusty road. Rose’s legs were getting tired, but she pressed on. Her determination was giving her strength with each step she took.

  “We’ve walked almost half a mile!” Rose exclaimed. “Where is it?”

  “Let’s look carefully, now. She said that the house was hidden,” Lionel responded, motioning toward the countless rows of trees.

  Rose and Lionel scanned the scenery. Seeing nothing, they continued walking. Their walk seemed endless, but they persisted. The sun was high in the sky and it beat down on their shoulders.

  “Look, Lionel!” Rose said, pointing to the left. “Do you see something on the other side of those trees over there?”

  Lionel squinted. He shaded his eyes with his hand. Slowly, he began nodding.

  “Yes, I do see something,” he answered with excitement.

  Rose took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” she whispered, hugging her shoulders.

  “Of course you are,” Lionel said comfortingly. “This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

  “I know, but what will I say?” Rose asked. “I’ve thought about it so many times, but I still don’t know what I’ll say. This is all so strange. I have no clue what I’m doing. What if I say the wrong thing?”

  “I’d say, just bring it up gently,�
�� Lionel told her. “Ask first about her daughter, Rose. Then bring up that you think you are that very same Rose. Tell her what you found in the hidden box. I guess this is all harder than any advice I can give you.” Lionel said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “But I’ll be here. I’ll be here right next to you. We are friends, aren’t we?” Rose nodded and he continued. “Well, friends are there for one another. Don’t worry, Rose. You’ll find the words to say when the time comes. I know you will. You are braver than you think, really.”

  “Thank you, Lionel,” she replied. But she still felt a nagging nervousness. Her head began pounding.

  “Now let’s go down this path here and figure out if this is even the right place,” Lionel suggested, starting toward the cluster of trees.

  “It is,” said Rose. “I know it is. It has to be.”

  They walked down a dirt path, which was slightly overgrown. After a short while, they came to the patch of trees. The path was winding through the tree cluster. After the trees, they could see the little cottage, which had a bright and colorful flower garden in front of it. The place was neat and tidy in comparison to the overgrown path. It truly did look like a picture on a calendar or an illustration in a children’s book. It’s absolutely perfect, Rose thought happily to herself.

  Rose marched up to the door and knocked loudly and with confidence. This is it, she thought, still in disbelief that she was actually here, about to meet her birth mother. Her heart pounded wildly and she began to shake, but Lionel was there with his hand on her shoulder.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There was no answer. Rose knocked again, harder this time. Nothing. Once more, she knocked. This time, she heard stirring from the other side of the door. It sounded like two pots clanking together and a chair scraping on the floor. With persistence, Rose knocked again.

  Rose heard more sounds. She waited. She thought she saw the curtain at the window beside the door flutter, but she couldn’t be sure. She waited several minutes. Then she knocked again.

  “Who is it?” Asked a soft, suspicious sounding female voice from the other side of the door.