by Nikki Duvall
“Hank’s living is in my favor,” said Faye. “Whoever buys this land ain’t gonna let an old woman live on it scot-free.”
“Will if the buyer is me.”
“Johnny! Don’t be talking no nonsense…”
“Tell me you wouldn’t love to see the ranch hand’s kid buy the ranch.”
“I ain’t got no argument with Hank the way you do.”
“So maybe you don’t remember what happened to my daddy.”
“It’s in the past, John. Let it go.”
“I can’t do that, Faye.”
Faye grounded out her cigarette in a plastic ashtray. “You need to settle down, John, find yourself a good girl.”
“I ain’t done being young.”
“Girls are always in a hurry. You wait too long and you’re gonna wind up with a wife who doesn’t understand you.”
“I reckon that’ll happen in any case.”
Faye chuckled.
"Whaddya say I drive you into town for one of Binky's special burgers?” asked J.D. “On the way back we can stop by Dan Doerbrecker's real estate office and see if he's willing to represent us."
"Us?"
"That's right, us. You and me. The Shaws. And tomorrow we start interviewing builders and lookin' at house plans. No mother of mine is gonna live in that run down house of Hank's."
~NINE~
"You don't even have a bedroom, Miss McCarthy," said Sanchez. You can hardly blame us for rejecting your application."
"I have a master’s degree and the earning power to make a difference in a child's life. I have good character. What does it matter if I have a bedroom?"
"A bedroom is on the checklist. It's a requirement."
"You mean a husband. A husband is a requirement.”
Sanchez said nothing.
"I want to appeal. Who do I talk to?"
"You must start from scratch with your application. First, you need a bedroom. One for you, one for the child."
"I’ve paid $5,000 in legal and application fees to The Cradle adoption agency. I saved for years to come up with that money. I can't just apply again."
"The Cradle contracts with social services to conduct your home visit, Miss McCarthy. We determined you do not qualify. I suggest you find another place to live and start the process over."
"Thanks for nothing." Halee disconnected and tossed her cell phone on the unmade dilapidated pull out couch. She stormed over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door in search of comfort food, settled on a glass of milk a day past expiration and the last stale cookie in the cupboard, and plopped down on a counter stool with her head in her hands.
This place was the best she could do on the salary she earned. She already spent three nights a week at Benedetto's to offset her student loans and this last semester would raise that monthly bill by another $100 per month a few weeks after graduation. She'd hoped to get more interviews with Chicago nonprofits this close to her degree, but the economy had crashed and the market had become saturated with veteran executives.
There was, of course, Victoria Pryor's offer. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath for a moment, imagining herself living in Manhattan.
Sliding into my limousine wearing white linen, I lift one manicured hand to wave goodbye to the multilingual doctoral candidate in child psychology I have chosen as my son's nanny. The child is happily packed up in a designer stroller with advanced safety features and is headed along tree lined streets for a full day at the children's museum. My driver, handsome and chivalrous, winks appreciatively as he takes in my long lean legs, the ones I have sculpted at the Pilates class I fit into my three hour lunch break. I rest back against the cool leather seats and pour myself a cup of ice and mineral water for the ride to the office. My broker calls to let me know that my stocks have done swimmingly well overnight and I should call my realtor about the brownstone I’ve been considering on the upper west side. The driver glances into the rear view mirror and winks his approval. At the next stop light, he stops and opens the door. J.D. slides in beside me, smelling like a well groomed gay guy and sending me a coy, knowing look that assures me he's not. I run my fingers along the tight muscles that lie just under his gray wool slacks and lean in to nibble on his freshly shaven cheek... then stop short as a blonde bimbo slides in after him, crowding me against the door and spilling my mineral water down the front of my perfectly pressed outfit!!
"AHHHH!" Halee jumped up and grabbed her cell phone, pacing as she waited for Victoria Pryor to answer. "It's Halee McCarthy," she said to voice mail. "I've thought about your offer, and I accept."
***
It was well after eight when Halee arrived at the literacy office. The building looked abandoned from the street, all the lights extinguished and the parking lot empty. She'd braced herself emotionally for this moment for the past six months, knowing that her new degree would bring with it offers for management positions somewhere else in the nonprofit world. Until lately, she'd never considered that job would take her away from Chicago. These streets were the only home she'd ever known. Gus Benedetto had practically raised her in the rooms above Benedetto's Bar and Grill, filling in for Halee's absent father after a car wreck took her mother at a young age. She'd begun helping at the bar long before labor laws allowed it, spent the brutal Chicago winters tucked in the bar's warm kitchen, safe under Gus' protection and basking in the friendship of his only daughter Rita. How would she tell him she had decided to trade in family and friends in exchange for a boss with the warmth of a snake and a city she'd never even visited? Some basic part of her knew she was taking the wrong turn. She just didn't have any other choice. She was tired of barely making it. She was tired of hoping this city would spit out a man worth loving. New York would be a fresh start.
She pulled the empty cardboard boxes she'd collected from the local market off the bed of Uncle Gus' truck and headed for the side entrance of the literacy foundation building. Plenty of daylight still remained on this August evening and she had no trouble working the lock and slipping inside. An eerie quiet filled the building. She moved down the short hall to the elevator, inserted her bypass key and hit the button for the third floor. It was Friday night and no one would be in for several days. She'd be able to pack her things, leave a note, and avoid all the tears, including her own.
The elevator took its time, as it always did, and she felt a well of emotion lumping in her throat. After three years of barely noticing the color of the scuffed walls or the pattern in the worn out carpet, everything sad seemed endearing. Even the cranky elevator seemed more like an aging relative who required a measure of compassion than an aggravating annoyance. "Stop it," she whispered. "Just suck it up and do what you have to do."
She opened the main door of the literacy office. The stench of dirty diapers knocked her back. She'd talked to Carl a dozen times about getting better diaper pails for the restrooms. On a good day, anywhere from thirty to fifty babies accompanied their mothers to the office, and with that volume, you had to bring out the big guns. Maybe the new director would be able to get some results. Carl had stopped listening to her long ago.
She flipped on the main light switch and tossed the empty boxes through the door one by one, then backed in with the last one, juggling two in her arms and shoving another down the narrow hallway with her foot until she reached her office door.
Funny. Someone had left a light on in her office.
"Hello?"
She thought she heard some movement, a whimper. Her heart clutched. She dropped the boxes and pushed open the door.
Ty sat on a piece of stained carpet in the corner of the room, alone and shaking. His brown eyes widened with fear. Salty tears stained his dark cheeks in two white lines. He tried to cry out when he saw Halee, but his hoarse voice couldn’t make a sound. His dry lips quivered as Halee collapsed on all fours before him and held out her arms.
“Oh, my gosh! Come here, Baby,” she cried.
The baby mimicked her, rai
sing his chubby hands toward the sky. She pulled him close, then recoiled reflexively at the cold urine soaking through her own blouse.
“Awwww,” she groaned.
Ty’s tiny fingers clenched the fabric of her blouse with a fierce need and his body contracted in a silent scream when she tried to break free. Something inside her relinquished to his need, that age old instinct of a mother protecting her young. She wanted to strip him of his clothes, wash him with a fragrant soap and massage his neglected skin with baby oil, but knew he needed to be held instead. There would be time later for bathing. Grabbing a sweater from the back of her chair, she wrapped him against her until she could feel his wet body warming.
"Ty, Baby, it's alright. I'm here now. Everything's alright."
She held him that way until he stopped shaking and his fingers relaxed, then got to her feet and looked around the office. A note on her desk caught her eye. She balanced Ty against her chest and grabbed the small piece of paper with one hand. The writing was rough and in large round letters, like that of a child just learning to write in cursive. The words took her breath away.
Miss McCarthy, I can't take care of him. You'll be a good mother.
Chantrell Robinson
Ty began to whimper. Halee walked him across the office floor, holding him tight against her body. Her own clothes were now completely soaked through with the child's urine, but somehow it didn't matter. She'd clean up later. For now, a little boy needed to feel a warm body against his, one that wouldn’t let go.
"You're hungry, aren't you Buddy? You need some milk. I'm going to get you some milk." She flipped through her Rolodex and landed on social services, picked up the phone and dialed the after-hours number.
"Ricardo Sanchez."
Halee hesitated. "I have an abandoned baby in my office, Mr. Sanchez. I need a case worker to come over immediately."
"Where is this office?"
Halee gave him directions.
"Your name?"
"Halee McCarthy."
Sanchez snorted. "You are the same woman...?"
"Look, I need your help. His mother- she left me a note. She left him here on purpose."
"Is the baby alive?"
"Of course..."
"Age of the child?"
"Five months. Maybe six. I don't know. Look, he's hungry and he's filthy and I don't have anything here..."
"Male or female?"
"What?"
"The child. Is it male or female?"
Halee began to pace. "You're reading off a checklist, aren't you? This baby is cold and hungry and scared and you're going through one of your stupid checklists! I'm going to hang up now, Mr. Sanchez. You have thirty minutes to show up and do what you're supposed to do. If I don't see you in thirty minutes, I'm going to take this baby home and care for him the way he needs cared for in my apartment. The one without a bedroom."
She disconnected.
"Come on, Ty." She walked the infant to the staff break room and peered inside the refrigerator. "There must be something here you can eat." She grabbed an open container of someone's half and half. "It's organic," she said with a slight smile. "This could be the best thing your little lips have ever touched." Rummaging through the cabinets, she found a number of clean baby bottles left behind by the clients, rinsed one out for good measure and filled the bottle half with creamer and half with warm water. "I know it's cold, Baby," she said, offering Ty the bottle, "but it's all I've got."
Ty grabbed the bottle in his little fists and hungrily sucked down the rich milk. She returned to her office and watched out the window for Ricardo Sanchez. Thirty minutes later, she packed up Ty, left the boxes behind, and headed for home.
~TEN~
“How was Oklahoma?”
“Hotter than hell, Doc. Ain't rained in a month.”
“I grew up about a hundred miles west of Kadele. Mama was an OSU grad, Daddy was a Longhorn. I remember thinking they were getting a divorce same time every year, late October. That's an interesting group of people live down that way.”
“They can be stubborn, that's for sure.”
“Good people, though.”
J.D. pulled off his shirt and hopped up on the trainer’s table.
“You do any heavy lifting while you were home?”
“No, Sir. Ain't my property. Not yet anyway. Put a bid on it before I left but it won't be easy getting’ old Hank to sell it to me, even if I double the price.”
“Investing in retirement?”
“You might say that.”
“Well, it's not a bad idea.
“You trying to tell me something, Doc?”
“Taking its good old time healing. Lots of scar tissue. We should get in there and clean it out, J.D. You're gonna need another three weeks before you're ready for the field.”
“Federals want me to report in ten days.”
“They’ll change their minds.”
“I can't mess this up, Doc. This is my big shot.”
“Surgery is your best bet. That scar tissue is getting in the way of optimum function. One way or another, it'll never be 100 per cent.”
“Federals hear you say that, they'll cut me loose. They’re looking for a closer on the season, is all. I’m determined to convince them to keep me for good. You gotta give me a chance. I can beat this thing.”
“I know you're a fighter, J.D., but not everything can be overcome by sheer willpower.”
“You don’t know nothin’ about me, then.”
“How old are you, J.D.?”
“Twenty five.”
“Got a girl?”
J.D. hesitated.
“Rumor is, you're gettin’ hitched.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good for you. That young woman is the best thing that ever happened to you.
I've been around a lot of years; always know love when I see it. I could tell the minute I saw you two together. You were a changed man when you took up with her- had a sudden sense of purpose about you, a real desire to make a life for yourself. I could even see it on the field. You concentrated, gave it your all. I told my wife- don't have to worry about that boy anymore. He's got his head on straight, found himself a good girl. Halee, right?”
“Halee...”
“She's a fine young woman. A real looker, too. Good for you, J.D. Love of a woman makes life worth living. I'll schedule your surgery for first thing next week, sooner if they can fit us in.”
“Can’t do that, Doc. Can’t take the chance.”
Doc took his time moving around the treatment room, putting things back while J.D. buttoned his shirt. “I’m willing to make you a deal,” he said after careful thought. “I’ll get you to the end of the season if you promise me you’ll agree to the surgery the very next day.”
“No steroids, Doc. I play by the book.”
“No steroids.”
J.D. held out his hand. “You have my word.”
J.D. packed up his duffle bag and headed for the parking lot. He pulled out onto the highway toward the Titan’s Stadium and flipped through every song on his iPod, searching for some noise to distract him from his melancholy. New York just couldn’t come fast enough. He needed to be a thousand miles from Halee McCarthy to get his head back in the game. It was bad enough that he couldn’t get her off his mind, but it seemed like everywhere he turned someone was commenting on how they belonged together. His arm was killing him, Hank Long was fighting every offer he made on the ranch, and Tony was playing games with his career. The last thing he needed right now was a distraction like Halee. He needed a different kind of woman in his life right now- a woman like Catrina Hiett. Cat would make the perfect decoy for the Federals’ morality committee- around for photo shoots and social events, gone when she wasn’t needed. He played with the ring box in his pocket, trying to muster the enthusiasm to hand it over to his new fiancé and coming up short.
Travis Tritt bellowed out a ballad from the Porsche speakers, reconnecting J.D.’s brain to the night
on Sam’s boat. He’d started the evening with only one goal in mind- the best sex of his life. Halee had delivered. But she’d been different than the others. There was a sweetness to Halee that made him want to bury his face into her silky hair and confess all his hopes and fears. And that scared him, scared him bad. The same fear had been all he’d needed to drive her away a year ago. Now that same fear was driving him back to her.
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and made a quick decision. One u-turn and he was headed for the west side of town.
***
“I found some of Vince’s old things. Maybe they’ll fit him. There’s diapers and baby food in there, too. I got the six month size. That’s how old he is, right?”
“I think so.” Halee balanced a bulging paper sack on one free arm and navigated her way toward the kitchen counter. Ty sat on her opposite hip, playing with her hair and squealing with delight while he tugged on the silky strands. “Thanks, Rita,” she said, pecking her friend on the cheek.
Rita grimaced.
“Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to shower,” said Halee, removing Ty’s fingers before he yanked out a fistful of hair. He let out a cry of protest. “I’ll pay you back next week.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Rita set two more bags on the counter. “This could be my last chance to play Aunt Rita.” She tickled Ty’s exposed tummy. “So this is the kid. He’s cute.”
“Yup. This is Ty.”
“Hi, Ty.” Rita squeezed his little foot. Ty giggled. “Any luck finding Ty’s mom?”
“The cops are on it.”
“She do any illegal shit? Like prostitution?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Yeh, well cross your fingers. That’s about the only way they’re gonna find her. Busted or dead.”
Halee covered Ty’s ears. “Not in front of the baby, Rita!”
“Looks like she wasn’t so great a mom, anyway. The kid’s too thin. And he’s got that look in his eye- you know, like he’s seen more than he should.”
“He’s just disoriented,” said Halee, holding him closer. “He’ll be fine.”
