Legitimate Lies

by Cosgrove, Julie B;

  The infant wriggled and made sucking noises as her head nuzzled into my blouse. Heat flooded my cheeks. I really was inept when it came to a caring for a baby, in more ways than one. “Uh, right.”

  I handed the bundle to him. In an instant, my arms ached from the emptiness.

  The deputy gave me a quick grin. “I’ve got her, now. You, um…get yourself back together.” He turned to block me from view while I wiped my drooled-on top.

  When I raised my head, I noticed how he expertly balanced the baby in the crux of his elbow as he supported her head with one hand. With the other, he extended a knuckle for her to suckle. “Hola, bambina.”

  Oh, please. Even Jorge made a better mother than me. Of course, he had two girls of his own. Naturally he’d had plenty of practice. Still, jealousy jabbed deep. I sucked it away with a cleansing breath and plastered on a smile, ready to greet my customers. After all, pretending had become something I’d learned to do quite well.

  But, by now the ladies’ attentions had zeroed in on the Hispanic tot, dwarfed like a peanut in the muscular arms of the deputy. Female voices cooed baby talk as they huddled around the two.

  With a thrust of my chin, my professional demeanor kicked in. I pumped my hands up and down. “Ssshh. Please. This is a library, ladies...”

  One by one, their lips pinched together. The din level diminished.

  “Thank you. Who’s next?”

  The first woman shuffled towards me. I motioned to the right with my head. “Jorge, you better take her to the workroom.”

  He slung the burp cloth over his shoulder and lifted the baby to it.

  “Here.” I handed him the pink blanket, which he tucked around her small form.

  “Yes, ma’am. But, let me call my wife, Rosa, okay? She runs a daycare, you know.” He bounced his heels up and down as the baby cooed and gurgled.

  I tapped my finger to my lips, unsure if I wanted more people involved.

  He added, “She’s only a block away. She can be here in no time. With formula and diapers.”

  “Okay. You can call. But”—I swirled my chair towards the disappearing deputy—“that baby does not leave the premises without my say-so. Got it?”

  Jorge turned back to me. Our eyes locked. Mine narrowed.

  “Yea. Though I don’t understand why...” His voice trailed off.

  I lowered my gaze. And you never can.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Word of the abandoned baby spread like grape juice through a one-ply paper towel. Undeterred by the threatening weather blowing in from the Gulf, curious onlookers flooded the library. This was probably the most excitement Bonita Springs had witnessed since the winter of 2009 when Mrs. Addison’s cat climbed into a telephone relay box to have her kittens and interrupted the phone service for hours.

  Inquiring minds had to know. “Whose baby is she?”

  “Where did she come from?”

  “Who’s been hiding a pregnancy?”

  For the next fifteen minutes I stamped library cards, tried to keep the roar to a minimum, and answered endless questions with the same response, “We just don’t know anything right now.”

  Another white lie. When would it all end?

  My stomach went into somersault mode. I’d begun to settle into this job and my new life. Why, good Lord, did this happen? Especially with the head librarian out with a bad cold…

  Uh-oh, there she stood.

  I inhaled through my clenched teeth. Five people turned to discover what startled me. Like the Red Sea under Moses’ staff, one by one the library patrons moved to the sides.

  Mrs. Burnett stood ghost-white—her raincoat draped over a lavender pant suit. A transparent, pastel scarf in shades of purples and rose lay knotted under her waddled chin.

  Sheesh. Even with a fever, she’d taken time to be presentable. I guess image and order really did mean everything to her. Her orthopedic shoes squeaked with each authoritative step as she approached the checkout desk.

  “What’s this about a baby, Mrs. Williams?” She strutted behind the counter. Her bun, which according to the women’s auxiliary gossip had been firmly pinned to her head since her twenties, now threatened to spew hairpins as it jiggled on the nape of her neck.

  My words barely shook out. “Mrs. Burnett. You’re ill. You shouldn’t be here. I’d have called you as soon as everything calmed down and, uh—”

  The woman pointed her gnarled finger towards the glassed-in wall of the workroom. Inside, Jorge and Rosa tenderly ogled the infant. “That, my dear, is not likely to happen.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not as long as that child is in my library.”

  “Yes’m, Mrs. Burnett.”

  She cleared her throat. “Isn’t the man in the workroom with the child our deputy sheriff? Well at least you had the sense to call him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I chose not to correct her assumption. What was another teeny lie, anyway?

  “Hmph. When will people learn libraries are not legitimate drop off places in Florida for abandoned babies?” She jutted her chin. “It’s happened two or three times before in this county, but never here.”

  Her arched, pencil-drawn brow indicated she blamed me for disrupting her perfect library decorum. I shrunk under her scrutiny. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But it started to rain.”

  “Well, what’s done is done.” The woman jerked a linen hanky from her sleeve and blew her nose with a honk, which echoed off the shelves. Several people smirked. I bit the inside of my lip to keep a straight face.

  She folded the lace handkerchief. “Now, we must properly rectify this situation. Obviously, I’m too contagious to care for a baby. I’ll handle the checkout counter. You”—she peered over her half-mooned reading glasses—“go take care of that.”

  I scrambled off the swivel chair and nearly tripped on my own heels. But, before I began to scoot to the workroom, her nasal voice hissed. “Wait, Mrs. Williams.”

  I half-turned. “Yes?”

  The seasoned librarian cocked her head in the direction of her office. “The Safe Haven procedure booklet is in the top right-hand drawer of my desk. Get it. Read over it. Do what it says.”

  The clunk of the machine, as it date-stamped the next library card, echoed her command. The sound hit the bottom of my heart with a thud. I had to follow the legal procedure. Otherwise, I’d draw attention to myself. I’d been schooled in the necessity to lay low under the radar— obey the law, be an outstanding citizen, dot “i’s” and cross “t’s.”

  I watched through the glass as Jorge’s girls stood on tiptoes to get a peek at the baby. The little pink bundle bouncing in his arms may be my stepdaughter, but did it give me the right to raise her? Maybe God planned for the deputy to walk in today of all days.

  I had to face the harsh reality. Even if I learned to be a good mother, it might jeopardize both of our chances at a normal life. Sure, many people adopted children from other races and cultures, but would my keeping her somehow link me and her to our hidden lies? I’d have to make up some explanation as to why I’d become so emotionally attached to her.

  I slunk to the office and opened the pamphlet. My eyes fell onto the first page―

  It stated the infant abandonment, a.k.a. “Baby Safe Haven” laws, allow any adult, be it a family member, pastor, friend or social worker, to drop off an infant without any repercussions, as long as the mother voluntarily relinquishes care and the baby has not been abused.

  Jorge wandered in, babe in arms, with Rosa. Their two girls toddled behind. “It’s time, Sheila. I have to report this, you understand.”

  “I know.” My response fell flat as I flipped the pamphlet over. “What’s going to happen to her?”

  “She’ll go to the hospital. Within twenty-four hours a pediatrician will examine her to make sure there’s been no abuse and confirm she’s healthy.” He cradled the baby with a gentle sway. “Then she’ll be given to foster parents who take in newborns.”

  “And if no one claims her within a few days, it say
s here she becomes a ward of the state.” I huffed into my chest and slipped the pamphlet onto the desk. “Suppose nobody adopts her?”

  Rosa shrugged. “Being a ward of the state isn’t too bad. Despite the horror stories, I’ve observed lots of happy and well-adjusted foster kids in my daycare over the years. At least the mother carried her to term, or so it appears. Thank God for that.” Her soft, brown eyes dropped as she made the sign of the cross over herself.

  “Yeah.” My face warmed as I shoved the unspoken guilt aside, one more time. I shouldn’t

  have rushed to the altar. I didn’t know what a manipulative monster I’d married in my former life. Tears re-filled my eyes. Oh, why had Marisol been allowed to carry his baby and not me?

  Rosa put her arm around me. “Ah, honey. Don’t cry.” She dug in her purse for a tissue. “You can’t get attached.”

  But, I already had—the worst thing that could happen for us both. I had to let the baby go, for her sake and my sanity. Not to mention our safety.

  I gnawed my lower lip as I ran my hand over my stepdaughter’s black hair―soft and shiny, just like the mother’s she’d never know. Perhaps God’s mercy reigned. Marisol, an illegal teenager, had no business raising a child in the U.S. Besides, if the cartel or the Feds ever discovered this baby was Robert’s daughter… “It will be next to impossible to locate her mother, right?”

  “Probably.” Jorge handed the baby to his wife and reached in his back pocket for his cell phone. “As long as the national data base doesn’t have an Amber Report of a missing or abducted baby matching her description, she’s considered abandoned.”

  I shot a silent arrow prayer towards Heaven. If the police rarely tried to locate the mother, perhaps Marisol’s baby would have a chance.

  “I doubt they will put out much effort to find the mother,” Rosa said. “There are too many Hispanic babies out there. But then again, this one must be half-white. Notice her lovely light-colored eyes.”

  Just like her dad’s eyes. The thought jabbed deep inside me. But surely Robert wouldn’t report her missing? He’d told Tom to give her to me. Unless…

  What if this was all a ploy to locate me? The air pressure changed in my ears as my pulse pounded inside them. No, please no. I didn’t want to ever have contact with him, or his goons, again.

  Jorge held the cell phone to his ear. He nodded. “Roger that. No, no need to call an ambulance. We’ll take her to the hospital right now. Rosa brought an infant car seat.” He clicked off his phone and raised one side of his mouth in a semi-grin. “Gotta go.”

  I reached out to stroke the baby girl’s head―softer than satin and as warm as freshly baked bread―for the last time. “Vaya con Dios, little one. May the angels protect you.”

  A clap of thunder rattled the room as a stark, white lightning bolt flashed outside the window. Divine response?

  With a forced swallow, my muddled emotions slid down my throat, but ricocheted into my eyes. I blinked them away as my secret stepdaughter disappeared out the library door, huddled under Rosa’s raincoat.

  I shoved this latest tie to my past into the far reaches of my mind where the rest of my former life lay. This was one more hurt I had to pretend I didn’t feel. Would this ever get easier? What if my past always lurked like a thief, ready to jump out and steal any chance for happiness when I least expected it?

  One residual emotion stirred in my gut though—a longing for the one who’d dropped off the baby. When he walked away from the library steps this morning, the roller coaster of our forbidden emotions cranked up for another loop-de-loop through my life. The sensible side of me wanted to jump off before the ride began. Yet the other part—thrilled at the sight of his muscular backside, even if from a distance—hoped he’d surface again when I got off work.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The curiosity-seekers filtered out one by one. I watched from the glass windows as they scurried through the rain back to their daily lives. Mrs. Burnett finally left, but only after she’d drenched her hanky and used up all the tissues in the box on the counter. Her raspy cough ended with a sniffle. “Well, I trust you can handle it from here on out.”

  My response remained the same as always. “Yes, ma’am.”

  All returned to quiet again, except for the rattling thunder, which echoed across the mostly empty library. Pulses of white light preceded each rumble as the rain pelted the roof in quick, staccato taps.

  Thunderstorms usually invigorate me. But, today’s events made my nerves rattle like a pebble inside a boxcar. I had to maintain the professional appearance for the residual patrons for two more hours. Thanks be to God, the City Council had voted to only keep the library open half-days on Saturdays.

  The hands on the library clock lugged as slow as a child not wanting to leave the playground. One o’clock finally came. I locked up, and began the short trek home. The thunderous rain had stopped, leaving only the spritzing from the wet tree limbs to be carried on the ocean breeze. A litter of tender, green leaves plastered the pavement.

  Each click of my heels took me further from the library stoop. Every step pushed a bit more of the morning’s cacophony from my mind’s ears. But the stifled emotions threatened to resurface. I wanted to get home, soak up to my neck in a steaming bubble bath, and have a long, cleansing cry. After that, I’d call the whole event into the authorities—if they hadn’t gotten wind of it by now.

  I stopped mid-step. Wait. Why call them? They might relocate me again.

  Heck with protocol. I liked it here. I’d made friends and had a good job. Why point attention to myself? Robert’s long term imprisonment secured my secret life in Florida. Besides, why would the Feds ever connect an abandoned Hispanic baby to me? Only Becky and Tom knew the truth. Becky, who’d orchestrated my entry into witness protection, wasn’t telling. That’s for sure. The fact Tom strolled away meant he still worked within the boundary of the federal government’s rules. He wouldn’t risk his career by letting anyone else figure out my location.

  The infant rested in the hands of the authorities and no one would be the wiser. I’d get over this bump in the road and forget all the nastiness of the past—Robert, Marisol having his baby, and the myriad lies he’d told me. The incident had taught me a valuable lesson. I had to stop being angry at myself for loving him so much I’d do anything for him.

  Mrs. Burnet’s words returned to my mind. What’s done is done. No going go back in time. In order to move on, I had to release this deep-seated regret once and for all. Face it. Because of my decisions, maybe I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Cuddling the baby today didn’t change a thing. If anything, it emphasized it. I gulped back the lump in my throat. Perhaps it had all turned out for the best.

  Of course it had. I gave my head a hard nod and began to walk towards my bungalow. I’d be better off without the baby in my life. After all, being in witness protection gave me a new start and time to heal. My heart had stretched to the breaking point one too many times. Why dredge up the memories and gash open old wounds? Why have the constant reminders of my shame and his lies glaring me in the face every day? No, Marisol’s baby would benefit from being raised by strangers who knew nothing of her origins. Unlike Tom, me, and everyone else who had brushed up against Robert, she’d have a chance at an ordinary life.

  And my feelings for Tom? They had to stay in the past as well. Too much history there. Robert would always be a wedge between us, and my faith told me only God had the authority to remove it. Even if I had a new identity, I’d still vowed to be his wife until one of us left this earth. Since we were both in our thirties, it meant I might be “single” for a very long time. The spinster librarian. How appropriate.

  I took in a deep, long breath, released it to the count of three, and placed the entire situation at the foot of the cross—one more time.

  A golden glow lay over the neighborhood. The hush after a spring storm—my favorite time. The swift shower had rinsed away dust and dirt from the world. Everything washed fres
h and new. It gave me hope my life, even my past mistakes, could be washed clean as well. I sent up a prayer to believe in it, once and for all. The idea spread into a smile. I closed my eyes and basked in it.

  Then in a flash, a cynical premonition burst my tranquility.

  “Who’s there?”

  Did someone lurk in the shadows, poised to glare into my soul? I glanced over my shoulder. Nobody else on the sidewalk. I walked backwards a few paces, but spied nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Anyone there? Can I help you?”

  I stopped and listened. No footsteps. In fact, the neighborhood fell eerily quiet.

  In the stillness, my ears picked up the tweets of a cardinal. It chirped in harmony with the whispered swish of tires through the puddles at the intersection behind me. Laughter of children in a nearby yard added to the melody. Two squirrels scampered in a twisted chase around an old oak tree trunk. The world had returned to normal.

  My imagination had been prickled, that’s all. I shrugged and pulled my raincoat collar over the chill in my neck. Half a block later, I turned up my sidewalk.

  A wave of affection splashed over me when I spotted my adopted stray, Tom Cat, perched in the front window of the two-bedroom bungalow I now called home. He’d been the only connection to my past, until today. As soon as he noticed me, his mouth opened into a long, mimed meow. Then he disappeared from the sill, no doubt to greet me in the foyer. Our daily routine. Normal, consistent, nice. Exactly what I wanted after all I’d been through today.

  When I opened the door, the feline began his welcome dance, winding in and out of my legs. He almost tripped me as I side-stepped towards the hall table to lay down my purse and keys.

  I bent to stroke him. “Hi, sweetie.”

  “Hi yourself, hon.”

  I jumped at the familiar Americanized brogue. “Tom.”

  He stood inside my living room, straddle-legged in those tight, casual trousers. A hunter-green, collared knit shirt emphasized his lean, sculptured chest. Countless emotions danced inside of me as our eyes locked. Not shock though. The fact he’d broken into my house didn’t surprise me at all. Simple CIA 101 skills he’d probably learned long before we met.