Pretty, Nasty, Lovely

by Rosalind Noonan

  “Take care of it now. We can’t have something like that hanging around in Theta House.”

  “Like . . . how? What am I supposed to do?” There was no taking the baby to the clinic; we’d gone through that scenario too many times and ruled it out. A cold tremble gripped my body, and I was so thirsty. My skin was hot, my lips dry, and I felt as if I’d just run ten miles through a blistering desert. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. And you will.” Tori snapped her fingers at Courtney. “Material Girl? Help Emma clean up her mess.”

  Back in the room, neither of us wanted to touch the baby girl covered by fluffy white towels. I had wrapped her up, wanting her body to be cozy and respected.

  “Here. You can put it in this.” Courtney unzipped a backpack and told me to drop it inside.

  Not it. She. A baby girl.

  I leaned over the laundry basket and parted the terry cloth, just to see her face. Except for her bluish lips, she seemed perfect in every way, with tiny nostrils and eyebrows so fine they were nearly invisible. How did it happen that a perfect baby just didn’t breathe like all the others? My anatomy failed me and I imagined that she was hollow inside, like the rubber dolls I had toted around as a toddler.

  “Come on,” Courtney said. “The longer it’s in here, the creepier this room gets.”

  “She’s just a baby. She didn’t do anything to you.”

  “Just put her in here.”

  The infant was so heavy in my arms and I swear she still felt warm, but then she was all wrapped up and heat was pumping in the house. My arms trembled as I tucked her into the backpack, giving her a soft landing.

  Courtney’s face puckered, and she leaned away as she closed the zipper. “There you go.” She hoisted the pack and groaned. “God, it’s heavy. Turn around.” I braced myself as she slipped the backpack onto my shoulders, then stepped back, hands on hips. “There you go. No one will ever know. You can walk right out of the house and no one will be the wiser.”

  I tried to remain erect despite the weight of her pulling me into the earth. “But where do I go?”

  “Do I have to think of everything? Just dump it somewhere. Find a trash bin.”

  Trash?

  I could never . . . Bile rose in my throat at the thought of it. A dead baby’s body mixed in with the paper coffee cups, half-eaten veggie burgers, and crumpled tissues. The wave of sickness made me teeter forward, and the weight on my back would have taken me down if Courtney hadn’t caught me.

  Courtney was surprisingly strong under that blond lace-cookie veneer. “Now go. Do it now, before everyone’s awake and full of questions. We can’t let people figure it out.”

  Figure it out. Didn’t they know? I had been stuck in the room all night, assuming people knew, but... “It’s a secret? No one else knows?”

  “Only the Rose Council. Now get going.”

  In a daze of exhaustion and fear, I staggered out the door, relieved to leave the humid room. The hallway swayed back and forth, setting me off balance, and I had to run one hand along the wall to keep from toppling sideways. Down the stairs I plunged, dodging faces and conversation that floated around me, detached and without meaning. Once outside, the cool air offered some relief, but as I plodded down the street my sense of direction faded away.

  Where was I going?

  The dead baby on my back weighed me down, pulling me into the earth.

  Back to the earth. The ravine.

  I knew I was headed that way, just to get out of sight and away from people and to think. Think. Think what to do with her.

  I turned off Greek Row on the block, wanting to avoid any sisters or frat brothers who might be out early. As I cut down a side street I spotted Sam Mattern heading my way.

  Sam . . . Not now! I just couldn’t . . .

  The muscles in my shoulders and back tensed. Would he know what I was carrying in my backpack? Would he sense it?

  I had avoided him for months, skipping certain parties and dropping classes when I knew he would be there. But still, even with the time apart, as we drew closer to each other, I felt the heat of awareness, the softening in my chest at the sight of eyes the color of a tropical sea and shiny dark hair.

  He was close now. His eyes flicked my way and he smiled. “You look like hell, Danelski.” And that was it. He kept walking, as if we were old buddies, casual friends.

  Bastard.

  I walked to the bridge, then cut around it, taking the well-worn trail used by kids looking to find a hiding place among the rocks for sex or smoking weed or drinking or all of the above. A few yards down, in the shade of bushes and the tall steel towers, I stopped and removed the weight from my back. Something about it had just felt wrong. I brought the pack around and slid it over my chest. Better. The weight of the baby was more comforting there, pillowed against my breasts. I imagined her fitting into the concave angles of my body, attaching herself like a real baby.

  My baby.

  * * *

  The version I told Dr. Finn and Kath was sanitized a bit. I didn’t mention any names, of course, and I streamlined the narrative, telling them that I had sneaked the infant’s body out of Theta House inside a backpack and taken her down to the ravine for a secret burial.

  “With the baby hanging in the cradle of my chest it took a long time to make it down the path. You know how the trail weaves back and forth? It seemed like hours, probably because I was so tired and achy. I’d been up all night and I’d been dealing with some virus.

  “When I got to the bottom, the noise of the water rushing over the rocks scared me. It just seemed wrong. I moved away from the rapids and went to the sheltered spot under the bridge where you can hide behind the brush. I sank onto a boulder and closed my arms over the backpack. The bundle was keeping me warm, and we just sat there. I talked to the baby, telling her maybe she was lucky to be gone from a world that can be a terrible place. No one could see me, so I took the baby from the backpack and sat there for a long while cuddling her. It made me feel better to stroke her face and tell her everything would be okay.

  “That was when the baby flinched. She moved. I freaked at first, staring at her. I was so tired and achy, I thought maybe I was hallucinating. But then, as I was watching her, she jerked again. I had read that sometimes bodies move after death, like when the air drains from the lungs. I know it sounds creepy, but it wasn’t. At that moment it felt right to be holding her. I kept stroking her skin, soothing her arms and shoulders and tummy, and I talked to her in a soothing voice as her little body continued to twitch. I told her she was going to be okay, that she was going to a good place.

  “Stupid lies, but I wanted to comfort her, and I think dying people at least understand the tone of our voice. And as I was talking to her, she opened her eyes.”

  I would never forget that moment, those dusky gray eyes rolling lazily.

  “I thought it was some kind of involuntary reaction, like a muscle spasm or something. Her final good-bye. But no, her eyelids stayed open and the pupils moved, as if she were trying to focus.

  “And then she started squirming in my arms, turning her head and burrowing into the crook of my arm.

  “So real and human.

  “A real baby girl, alive and making little squeaky sounds.”

  I turned away from the window and found Dr. Finn and Kath staring at me, riveted.

  “She came back to life.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Dr. Finn’s hands were pressed together, fingertips tucked under his chin in awe. “Emma . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “I do. That’s a fucking amazing story, and you’re my hero.” From her prone position on the couch Kath thrust a fist in the air.

  “But I didn’t do anything that special. Maybe it helped her when I held her in my arms. Some doctors think that helps. I searched on the Internet and found a handful of incidents in which newborns came alive after they were pronounced dead. One doctor from Cornell suggested that it was t
he act of the mother holding the child that brought it back. He believed that the mother’s warmth, the sound of her heartbeat and her voice, might have guided the child back to life.”

  “Fascinating.” Dr. Finn was blown away. “You’re talking about a miracle.”

  “I think it was.” My worst nightmare that had turned into the best day ever.

  “So then what did you do next?” Kath scrambled up on the sofa, tucking her legs under her. “Did you drop her off at the police station? That’s what the safe-haven law is about, right?”

  I dropped my head down and rubbed the back of my neck, letting my hair cover my face. Mostly to avoid looking at them. “I can’t tell you that part.”

  “What? You can’t cut us off before the rest of the happy ending!” Kath was freaking. “It is happy, right? How’s that baby girl now? I need to know.”

  “Wow,” Dr. Finn said. “And I thought I was the compulsive one.”

  “We’re talking about an innocent baby here.”

  I straightened up and faced Kath. Now that I’d gotten the story out, I felt a little light-headed. Burden lifted. Maybe Kizzy was right about some secrets needing to get out into the light. “I think she’ll be fine. She has a chance to have a good life.”

  “But where? In a foster home? Is she with Child Protective Services?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t tell you anything else, okay?”

  “But you said she’s fine.” Kath nodded. “I’m holding you to that. You did the right thing. Good job, Emma.” She leaped from the couch and gave me a big hug that startled me, coming from Kath. “You want to get in on this, Finn?”

  “I’m okay, but thanks for sharing that with us, Emma. And as I’ve always told you, anything you say in here stays within these four walls.”

  I gave Kath a squeeze, then leaned back. “It did have a happy ending, but the moral of the story, my point was that this baby might not have died in the first place if the mother was able to get health care at our clinic. Students need medical care they can trust. Now.”

  * * *

  With darkness pressing in, Finn offered to walk Emma and Kath back to their respective homes.

  “I already texted the campus escort service. They have someone at the library,” Kath said. “Emma and I will walk together and meet them there.”

  “I have a private escort,” Emma said drily. “Usually, there’s a cop waiting for me.”

  Kath scowled. “For what?”

  “The police suspect Emma was involved in Lydia Drakos’s death.”

  “What? This is crazy town.” Kath zipped up her red leather laptop case and slung it over one shoulder. “What the hell is that about?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way,” Emma said as she headed out of his office.

  “Oh, snap! Another story.”

  Finn walked them out through the dark building, noting a tin on the empty reception desk with a sticky note bearing his name. He put it out of his mind as he held open the front door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk with you?” He hated knowing that some dick was out there, lurking. A predator.

  “We’re good!” Kath waved him off.

  He stood on the threshold and watched their progress. Not even six and the sun was long gone, campus streetlamps casting halos in the misty air. He planned to shoot some pool with Jazz later, but for now he’d stay here and get some work done. Since he’d moved into the basement apartment with a grad student named Gordon, Finn was spending most of his time in his office. The view sure beat the basement, and here, with the task force and his teaching, there was progress and growth. It was more spacious than the new place, and a hell of a lot more peaceful than living with Eileen.

  On his way by the reception desk he picked up the tin, saw they were cookies, and took one. Peanut butter, one of his favorites. He didn’t have to open the note to know they were from Eileen, but he did.

  I made these with Wiley, she had written.

  Right. Maybe Wiley had hand-mashed the butter.

  We miss you so much! When you coming home, babe?

  The cookie was good, but the note made him gag. Like the lyrics of a Christmas song.

  When had she come by? He didn’t like her coming around here, especially when he had people in the office. With this being the tail end of the holiday, the building was quiet as a tomb today. Had she waited out here for a while, feeling sorry for herself?

  He left the tin at reception, took out his phone, and saw that he had six missed calls and two texts from her. When would she give up?

  He called her.

  “Hi, honey.” That drizzled-honey baby voice. “Did you get the cookies?”

  “Yup. What were you doing here?”

  “Silly. I dropped off the cookies.”

  “Did you bring Wiley?”

  “He was napping at my parents’. He was so tired from helping me mix the batter. He poured the sugar in all by himself.”

  “Phenomenal. Eileen, you’ve got to stop coming here.”

  “How else am I going to see you, if you—”

  “You’re not. I’ve moved out, okay? It’s over.” How many times did he have to say it?

  She sighed, and for a moment there was blessed silence. “When I was making the cookies, I thought about the holidays. Remember last Christmas? We were so happy then.”

  “See? That’s not true. I hate to burst your bubble, but I wasn’t happy. I wanted out of the relationship, and you wanted an engagement ring. What part of that scenario translates to happiness for you?”

  “You’re so mean. And here I was just leaving you some cookies. Who were you talking to in there, anyway? I was going to knock, but the woman kept going on and on.”

  His jaw clenched. “You were eavesdropping. Spying?”

  “I was checking to see if you were free. Who was the girl, anyway?”

  “It’s none of your business. You know, there are privacy laws. You shouldn’t be snooping around my office, or anyone’s for that matter.”

  “Don’t freak, Finn. I just came to see you.”

  “Don’t. Just . . . don’t come around anymore.”

  “That means no cookies for you,” she teased.

  “I’ll survive.” He hung up and dropped the rest of the cookie into the trash can.

  CHAPTER 31

  When the campus escort dropped me in front of Theta House Sunday evening, a shiny car sat in the no parking zone in front of the house—a BMW with the license plate HAY YEAH. Two people were twisted around in the front seat. I stopped staring when I realized they were making out. Ugh. Definitely against Theta Pi rules.

  I turned away and headed up the lawn. Someone had removed the burned-out candles and dead flowers from the Theta Pi sign, but the lights and teddy bears and photos remained. There were a few added pumpkins, plastic tiaras, and Mardi Gras beads that made the sign look like a tombstone. Behind me I heard the door of the car close. I waited a beat, then turned to discover Graham Hayden’s mystery date.

  “Hey, Tori. Got a new boyfriend?”

  “Maybe.” She pressed a finger to the corners of her lips. Lipstick check. “What are you doing?”

  “Just got back from a meeting.” We headed up the path to the front porch. “That suicide prevention group I told you guys about. Inspired by Lydia.”

  “Right. How’s that working out for you?”

  “Fine.” I went in for the kill. “Wasn’t that Graham Hayden? Lydia’s boyfriend?”

  “No. I mean, they dated, but that was a long time ago.”

  “But she really liked him. And we have that rule about staying away from a sister’s guy,” I said. We were on the steps now, and she was rooting through her designer bag, desperate to find her key and get away from me. “Or does that not count when the sister is dead?”

  “You’re such a bitch, Emma.” She jammed her key in the lock and opened the door.

  “But welcome back,” I called after her. “Hope you had a good one.”

  * * *


  Upstairs in the suite, Isabel and Patti were in the living area with photos spread out in stacks on the rug. They had spent the weekend together at Patti’s house—probably a good thing, since Isabel’s mother had a way of lashing out at her and throwing her back into bad eating patterns. Isabel had been spending a lot of time with Patti in the past few weeks. Another good thing, as far as I could tell. Patti knew how to calm Isabel’s anxiety, and Isabel seemed to add a spark to Patti’s deadpan affect.

  “Hey, how was your holiday?” I asked as Isabel popped up and gave me a hug. We exchanged stories about our weekend and then started going over the stacks of photos on the floor.

  “Aren’t these the photos from Lydia’s room?” I asked.

  “The archives. Violet asked us to sort them out,” Isabel said.

  “She begged us,” Patti added. “She didn’t have time and National has been asking for photos of Lydia. They’re doing a special tribute to her in the Theta Pi Journal.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to go through her stuff,” I said.

  Isabel wound a lock of hair around her fingers. “Patti told me that was dumb, and I got over it. But we can’t find a single picture from her pledge class. Not even one with the other girls. And we’ve gone through everything.”

  “Really? That’s odd.” I stared down at the photos of smiling girls. “Well, we know there’s a photo of Lydia’s pledge class down in the lobby.”

  “That’s the thing,” Patti said. “Violet took a closer look at it and it’s horrible. All blurred and gray. Like someone took the original and left a photocopy.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “The hoodie girl must have made off with our original.”

  “National isn’t going to like that,” Isabel said.

  Patti shrugged. “They’ll get over it.”

  I liked that about Patti. She didn’t get ruffled easily.

  “Well, if you really need some photos from that pledge class, ask Tori,” I said. “She’s got quite a few.” I had seen them in her suitcase.

  “I didn’t think of that.” Isabel pursed her lips. “Other girls in the pledge class would have pictures. I wonder if Courtney has some, too.”