by Imani King
“I don’t know yet.”
“Surely you won’t be staying the entire five years the child—Tamara, I mean—needs a nanny?”
I look at her more closely. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“Do,” she says, suddenly sounding cold. “Think long and hard about your place here.”
Jackson drops his fork with a clatter. “That’s enough, Anastasia. You’re being rude.”
She laughs, a tinkling sound with a hard edge. “To the nanny? I’m merely suggesting she give thought to what she wants to do with her life.”
“That’s not—”
I cut him off by folding my napkin on the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I should check on the baby.”
“Of course. That’s what you’re paid to do.” Anastasia casts her eyes over me, from my haphazard braid to my sneakers. “And obviously Jackson isn’t paying you enough.”
I swallow down an angry retort. “Good night.”
9
Shawna
I keep my pace deliberate until I am well away from the dining room. Then, I run up the stairs to Tamara’s room and softly close the door. I flip off the intercom to disable surveillance.
I take Tamara to the layette and change her diaper. She’s just starting to wake up but doesn’t cry. She gives me a sleepy smile tries to grab the box of diaper wipes. I laugh and move the box out of reach before snapping on a fresh sleeper. She must be hungry, but I don’t want to take her downstairs yet and risk running into that caustic woman.
Instead, I go to the rocker and hold her until Tamara tries to squirm away. Reluctantly I place her down on the floor and watch as she drags herself in a half-crawl. I bite back tears, seeing Tamara’s accomplishment for the first time. I have missed so much—so much time has been stolen from me because of my own stupidity and Brad’s anger.
I can’t leave Tamara here, in this house, to be raised by Jackson’s girlfriend. It’s clear Anastasia hates and resents Tamara. It’s only a matter of time before Tamara is old enough to pick up on that. How could I just let that happen to my baby? Even if the Reeves could afford Tamara nearly every material thing, love is far more important.
I drop down on the floor with Tamara and push a large caterpillar around while Tamara looks on with ever widening eyes. I laugh. “You’re coming with me, Tami,” I whisper. I try to ignore how my stomach clenches. I must get Tamara out of here.
A few minutes later, Tamara is fussy. I don’t care whether or not Anastasia is gone, Tamara needs her dinner. I put Tamara in the highchair and explore the many cabinets, in search of formula. I hear a noise and turn to find Jackson standing behind me. I jump. “You scared the heck out of me.”
“Sorry. What are you looking for?”
“Her formula and bottles.”
He looks at his watch. “For dinner, she usually has half a bottle, a bowl of cereal, and a jar of veggies.”
I frown. “You’re feeding her solids?”
“Baby food, of course.”
“But—”
He removes a box of cereal from the cupboard. “The pediatrician said she was ready. It helps her sleep through the night.”
“She sleeps through the night?” My chest feels achy and hollow as I realize I’ve missed another milestone in my baby’s development—two, in fact: sleeping through the night, and the introduction of solid foods.
With his back to her, Jackson balances a box of cereal, a can of powdered formula, and a small jar of carrots. “She has since the third or fourth night. Right after we started feeding her cereal. The doctor said she was probably hungry before, which caused her to wake up.”
I flinch at the criticism, even though I know it wasn’t meant for me. A foster mother had cared for Tamara for the month Brad and I were in custody dispute. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had let Tamara go hungry because I couldn’t afford regular checkups and lacked the doctor’s advice. Once again, my self doubts felt crushing.
“About Anastasia,” he says suddenly. “I’m sorry she was like that. She’s a little intimidated by the changes Tamara brought with her. She’s probably jealous that you have bonded with the baby so quickly when she hasn’t been able to.”
I could barely hold back a snort. Would he always find justification for Anastasia’s ill-treatment of Tamara? How could I expose my baby to that woman? But what if I’m overreacting? Would I risk Tamara’s future on the chance that I had met Anastasia on an off night? “She doesn’t seem like the maternal type.”
His brow creases. “I wouldn’t say that. She’s just focused on her career right now.”
“Have you talked about having children?” Oddly enough that is a painful thought.
“Use one-and-a-half scoops of powder to four ounces of water.” He passes me the formula can. “Not that we have sat down and discussed it, per se, but I can’t imagine she wouldn’t want them.”
“Hm.” I put a bag in the bottle and then add the formula and turn on the tap.
“No. Use the bottled water over there by the coffee machine.”
I lift my eyebrows, but don’t comment on the extravagance. I uncap the gallon jug, pour water into the bottle, and screw on the nipple. I shake it and turn back to face Jackson. “You should probably find out before you get married.”
“What?” He looks up from mixing cereal in the yellow plastic bowl.
“If Anastasia wants children.” She looked over at Tamara drooped over in her highchair. “She doesn’t seem too fond of your niece.”
“I never said we were getting married.” His posture seems defensive as he walks over to Tamara. “She’ll come around.”
“If she doesn’t?”
He sighs. “Look, I appreciate your concern—”
“—but it’s none of my business.” I turn my head, blinking back tears. At what point had my life spiraled so far out of control that Tamara’s welfare was no longer my business?
His tone softens. “Tamara is my top priority these days, Shawna. You can believe that.”
I give him a nod and take a seat at the table near Jackson. I watch him feed Tamara the cereal and carrots. His hands are large enough to hurt Tamara easily, but every movement is carefully monitored and executed. Each lift of the spoon is synchronized to enter a half-closed mouth. He holds the cloth and deftly wipes carrots and cereal from her chin. I can’t help but smile. He’s always so careful around Tamara and mindful of her fragility.
He stands and lifts Tamara. “Tami usually has her bottle in bed.”
“Okay.” I accept the baby and takes the bottle from the table. Our fingers touch during the transfer, and I can’t help but notice how warm and strong they are.
“Where did you learn so much about babies?” he asks.
I learned as I went, I almost blurt out, but stop myself at the last moment. “Oh, the usual. Babysitting.”
“So, you don’t have any children?”
My throat tightens, preventing me from responding. I shake my head and hug Tamara tighter.
“I didn’t think so. You’re much too young.” He frowns. “How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“You look young, but you act so mature I almost thought…” he shakes his head. “Well, good night Shawna.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and carry Tamara upstairs. Thank god he’d forgotten about the employment screen and background check—for tonight, anyway. By tomorrow, it won’t matter since Tamara and I would be gone. Once in the nursery, I settle in the rocker and hold the bottle for my daughter. Slowly, I move the rocker with my left foot.
Tamara finishes her bottle when someone knocks at the door. “Come in.” I rise from the rocker and put the baby on the changing table. I look up to see Jackson, holding her breath.
“I forgot about the screening,” he says. “Could you come downstairs after you get her settled?”
I force a yawn. “Can we do it in the morning instead? I spent most of the day traveling, and with my new duties...” I trail of
f, yawning again.
Jackson shrugs. “I’ll be leaving early in the morning, but I’ll show Mom where the paperwork is. Just remind her, okay?”
“Sure.”
He stays in the doorway, assessing me with his unnerving blue eyes. I feel exposed. Does he know who I am? My eyes remain locked with his until Tamara breaks the silence with a squeal.
Immediately, I return my attention to changing the baby’s diaper and replacing the blanket sleeper stained with carrots and cereal. When I look up from fastening the snaps on the fresh sleeper, Jackson’s gone.
Just as well, I think. I need to concentrate on getting Tamara settled in her crib, now. It would be a few hours before we could leave, so I need to let Tami get as much rest as she can.
I go to the phone on the wall and call Valley Taxi. The male voice on the other end sounds bored and sleepy. “Valley Taxi.”
“I need a cab.”
“Where?”
“At the end of the Reeve’s ranch drive.” I cross my fingers, hoping he wouldn’t ask for an address. I still didn’t know it.
“When?”
“Midnight.”
He whistles. “That’s awful late.”
“I’m catching a f-flight,” I reply, stuttering.
“Alright. You sure you don’t want the driver to come up to the house?”
“The gate will be closed.” I hear his sigh, followed by the click of keyboard keys.
“You’re all set, ma’am. Have a nice trip.”
“Thanks.” As I hang up, I hear a clicking sound right before disconnecting. My stomach tenses. Deep breaths, relax, I tell myself. Once Tamara and I are away from the ranch, I’ll stop jumping at every shadow.
I walk back to the rocking chair and sink into it. Letting my head be supported by the hardwood frame, I try not to dwell on the challenges facing me once I have taken my daughter back. Kidnap is the word the police would use if they catch me. They wouldn’t care that Brad has dumped our child on his brother. It would be black and white to them—I had taken my daughter without permission.
I squeeze the arms of the rocker, trying to harness my anger. They have no right to keep me from Tamara. The judge hadn’t been the one who brought her into the world in a rush of blood and pain. CPS hadn’t struggled through agonizing months of dread and mixed feelings directed at a baby that hadn’t been planned or wanted. None of the officials had endured twenty-two hours of labor to deliver Tamara, or the financial and emotional struggles preceding and following the baby’s birth. Brad hadn’t been there either, so what right did he have to my child?
I wipe at a tear streaking down my cheek, impatient with my reasons to shed them. Despite what we face, things will be better now. We will be together again, and this time no one can separate us.
With a sigh, I return to the nanny room, where I sprawl across the bed after slipping off my skirt and blouse. My jeans and sweater are draped across the footboard, ready to slip on after a short nap. I close my eyes, certain I won’t be able to doze for even an hour or two due to anxiety over our uncertain future. As soon as I shut my eyes I fall into sleep deeper than expected.
10
Shawna
I’m in his room. In the bed we once shared. The beautiful house that had become a prison.
“You don’t tell me no,” he whispers over the back of my neck, causing my hair to stand on end.
“Please, Brad, don’t. I’m not feeling well.” I struggle against the weight of him, trapped between his body and the soft Berber rug beneath me. I scream and plead, but he won’t stop.
“You belong time me. Forever.” He grabs my hair and yanks my head back so he can lick my cheek. “You’re mine.”
Time flies forward. It’s after the custody hearing. I have to leave the house; Tamara’s empty crib haunts me. I go outside. It’s dark. I think I’m alone until I realize I’m not.
I smell him before I see him. “Straight to Heaven” by Kilian. His scent.
I hear the sound of him pushing himself off the chain-link fence. He’s too close. No escape.
“Shawna,” he says. Breath smells like a cigarette.
I shudder, familiar with that particular tone of his. It’s the one he uses when he wants me to do something—that dress makes you look like a whore, wear this one. Get on your knees, that’s your place. I’m sorry, please forgive me.
At one time, I would have done anything for that voice because I loved him. Later, I did because I was afraid. But Brad reacts to fear the same way a shark does to blood, so I force myself to look at him.
I have to crane my neck to do it. Brad’s always been muscular, but it looks like he’s spent some serious time in the gym since I left. There’s a lethalness to his strength that wasn’t there before. The brick and concrete landscape makes his blue eyes look electric.
“Why did you follow me out here?” I ask.
“Follow you? It looks like you’re the one who followed me, Shawna.” His tone shifts swiftly from amused to placating. “What does my baby want now?”
“Don’t play games with me. You know what I want.”
“And you can have her. All you have to do is come home. A child should have both parents. I’m not the one trying to keep her from you.”
I almost laugh. “So that’s why you told all those lies in the courtroom?”
“They were only lies depending on what way you looked at them.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m not going to let you take anything else away from me.”
“I’ve never taken anything from you, Brad.”
Pain and resentment flash in his eyes. “You left.”
I open my mouth, but no words come.
“You left,” he continues, stepping forward. I retreat, but he keeps advancing until my back is plastered against the exit door. He grabs my straightened hair in his fist and brings it to his lips.
I glance around wildly. We’re alone. He can do anything.
He steps towards me. “Stop this. Come home. We can be a family.”
I shudder and step out of his reach. “Never.”
He advances. “I know a few ways to change your mind.”
I gulp.
“Come on, Shawna. I know you want more time with the baby.”
“Her name is Tamara.”
“That’s right. Little Tami.” He smiles. “She looks so much like her mama. Every time I look at her, I’m reminded of you.”
I panic. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”
“Why would you think I’d do that? You make me sound like a monster.”
Because you are. I bite back the words and close my eyes. “Please, Brad. I know you’re angry, but don’t take it out on our daughter.”
“You’re talking about this, right?” He raises his hand and places it on my cheek. I flinch, hating myself for showing weakness but unable to stop my body’s instinctual reaction. “You know I never wanted to hurt you, baby.”
My eyes whip open. I glare at him. Yes you did, you liar.
My anger only makes him smile. “How much do you want to see her, Syd?” His eyes dip, taking in my body. He isn’t subtle about the way he’s looking at me. He’s never been subtle. In the beginning, I’d found the obsessive way he pursued me exhilarating. I thought it meant he loved me more than anything. But that wasn’t the case. He just wanted control.
“I’m not selling myself to you.”
“Not buying the tough act, sweetheart. I don’t think the question is what you would do, but rather if there’s anything you won’t do.”
“You don’t know me.” My voice is shaking. Every part of me is shaking. I am desperate, but I won’t do anything that will put my daughter under his care. As much as I want to see her, if I go back, I will just be sealing Tamara’s fate.
“Didn’t you hear my lawyer? I’m leaving the country. You won’t see your precious baby for a few months.” He lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “I wonder how desperate you
’ll be when Tamara and I get back from our trip.”
I shut my eyes.
“Be hearing from you soon, Shawna,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving man.”
11
Shawna
I awake with a gasp with my heart racing in my ears. I lean forward, trying to catch my breath. Tonight is the first time I’d had the nightmare in months, but it was particularly vivid. I could still smell his sweet spicy cologne and feel his rough grip on her arms.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the images lingering from the dream and slow my breathing. I read the green numerals of the clock groan, 11:46. How could I have slept so long?
I push myself off the bed and throw on her clothes. My hands still shake, and nausea churns in my stomach, but I don’t have time to deal with the dream’s aftermath right now. I kneel on the floor and drag my case out from under the bed. I toss it on the bedspread and stuff the skirt and blouse inside before securing the latches again. Then I got into Tamara’s room and leave the case by the door, while I load diapers and and changes of clothes into a diaper bag until it is stuffed. I curse softly to realize I haven’t left room for formula or a bottle. I remove a handful of clothes before place Tamara’s bag by her case.
Tamara whimpers when I lift her from the crib, but doesn’t break into full-out scream, much to my relief. I select a tiny snowsuit from the closet and slip it over the blanket sleeper, not taking the time to change her into different clothes. The sleeper will give more protection against the cold night air anyway.
We are at the door before I remember my jacket in the nanny room. I place Tamara on the bed while I slide it on. Then I lift Tamara and hurry from the bedroom. I freeze in her tracks seeing the light is on and Lillian is standing in front of the door.
“I know who you are.”
I ignore the burning in her stomach. “Get out of my way.” My voice is more forceful than I have intended, but Lillian doesn’t flinch. “I’m taking my daughter.”
