The Baby Clause: A Christmas Romance

by Tara Wylde

  Fuck. I can’t think. I haven’t slept since Joe snatched me. I’m half out of my mind worrying about Mama and Vanya, what they’ve told little Joe—if I’ll see him again, and under what circumstances. It’s too much. I can’t... I can’t hold all that and try to guess at whatever half-baked plan Nick might be cooking up.

  No. That’s not fair. It could be a fully-baked plan. Everything that can go wrong already has. It’s about time something went right, and Nick hasn’t let me down yet.

  I hold onto that thought for dear life as the last of the daylight fades away, leaving me in the kind of pitch dark that doesn’t exist in the city. I can’t even pick up the faint aura of light pollution in the distance, with all those trees in the way. Hell, I can’t even make out the trees, or the wall, or my hand in front of my face. It’s not long, or it doesn’t feel like long, before I lose all sense of time.

  A dumb thought occurs to me: this must be what it’s like to be a hamster in the final moments of its life. I read somewhere that hamsters have no sense of past or future, only their current reality. So a happy hamster’s always been happy; a dying hamster’s been dying forever; can’t conceive of a future where it’s free of its final agony.

  How long have I been sitting in the dark?

  Can that hamster thing even be true? I had one as a kid. It seemed to remember me from day to day. But... Is hanging onto a spark of familiarity the same thing as grasping the passage of time?

  What am I even thinking about?

  I ball my hands into fists under the duvet. The sharp sensation of nails biting into skin cuts through my racing thoughts. I’m...scared. Just scared. Not losing my mind. Not floating outside of time. And... And I can actually hear something, a distant purr that wasn’t there before.

  A car! It’s got to be a car. Nick is coming back, and of course I never doubted it. The hum of the engine, the dull crunch of gravel, fills my ears. But Joe doesn’t stir, not even when Nick’s lowbeams spill over the rise. The sound must’ve risen gradually enough that it simply never registered. Even I’m not sure when it began.

  Nick rolls to a stop in the center of the clearing, but doesn’t kill the engine. I hold my breath when the door clunks open, as if I could somehow cancel out the noise by being extra-quiet on my end. Joe groans and shifts against me. Fuck...fuckfuckfuck....

  Stop walking, stop moving, stop taking steps!

  If Nick’s footfalls don’t give us away, the pounding of my heart surely will. If Joe can’t hear that, he must be able to feel it. He must—

  He grips my arm hard, just above the elbow. I gasp so violently I choke on my own spit. The resulting coughing fit might’ve been a good distraction if Joe gave a shit about me, but if I didn’t know it before, the past thirty-odd hours have proven he doesn’t.

  Instead of patting me on the back, he claps his hand over my mouth. “Shut up. Someone’s here.”

  I wheeze helplessly into his hand. His blunt fingers dig into my cheeks. My eyes water.

  “Whoever it is... You’re gonna act annoyed to see them. Tell ‘em we’re camping. Anything else out of your mouth, and you won’t like what happens.”

  I wriggle my feet. The last loop of rope falls from my ankles. This is it. If Joe thinks I’m sitting still for this, he can think again.

  A shadow passes over the window. The ancient porch creaks. Nick’s right on the other side of that door. I almost ruin everything with a crazed laugh, as another silly thought crosses my mind: Tie me up all you want; I serve only one cruel master.

  And then the door flies open. Nick’s a hulking silhouette in the arc of his lowbeams, looming over us with some kind of...medieval weapon? No—just a chain. He’s swinging one end, and the other’s wrapped round his fist. If I didn’t know him, I’d be terrified. Hope Joe feels the same, because this is my chance, and it’s going to go a whole lot smoother if Joe’s frozen with fear. Or at least startled into temporary inaction.

  I throw off the duvet and bolt for the door. Or at least, that’s the idea. Two steps in, a cramp hits, right in my calf. My knees buckle, and I hit the floor hard. I kneel there, stunned, palms stinging from smacking into the floorboards. By some miracle, no hand shoots out to grasp my ankle, no heavy foot comes down on my back. Joe’s cursing behind me, thrashing around. Must be tangled in the covers.

  Nick drops one end of the chain and reaches for me. I grab for his hand like a lifeline, and he tugs me to my feet. I stagger for a moment, careening into his chest. The cramp finally loosens. I nod at Nick, and we race into the night hand in hand.

  Joe thunders after us. Nick’s parked close, and we’ve got a decent head start...but not decent enough. Something hits me on the back of the thigh, sending white-hot pain deep into the meat of my leg. For a moment, I think I’ve been shot; it feels like a bullet. But Joe wasn’t armed. A rock—he must’ve thrown a rock. I stumble again. Nick’s hand’s torn from mine as pain blooms again, tearing up the back of my scalp, wrenching my neck, as Joe yanks me back by my hair.

  “Fuck! Let go!” I elbow him in the gut, and when he just tugs me closer, I throw my head back hard. There’s a crunch as my skull connects with his nose. First blood to me, I guess, unless that rock broke my skin.

  “Lina!” Nick’s circling back, now, with the chain stretched between his hands like he’s planning to garrote someone with it.

  I writhe in Joe’s grasp. He twists his hand in my hair, yanking my head back till I’m forced to my tiptoes. “Ah—stop!” I stamp where I think his foot is. All I get for my pains is a sharp pebble to my heel. I stumble again, tearing what feels like a good chunk of my hair out at the roots.

  The car’s so close. So goddamn close. Ten running steps, and I could be curled up in the passenger seat, with a locked door between me and Joe. All I need to do is break free.

  Somewhere behind us, the chain rattles softly. That’s all the warning I get before Joe whips me around to face Nick. I register Nick’s look of horror, then a sharp line of agony across my waist as the chain whips me a good one. My only consolation is Joe’s distressed shout: it must’ve wrapped all the way around. I grin through gritted teeth: Use me as a human shield, will you? That’s what you get!

  “I’m fine,” I gasp. I start to struggle and fight in earnest: the more of a handful I can make myself, the harder it should be for Joe to keep me between himself and Nick. I feel like bees are stinging my scalp, and all the way down my neck, but the pain only pisses me off. I thrash my head from side to side, throw elbow after elbow, till Joe pushes me down in the dirt. I land badly, scraping the skin off my palms, tearing the knees out of my pants, but I couldn’t care less. I’m scrambling for the car before I’m even on my feet, crawling till I get my legs under me.

  Behind me, I hear Nick and Joe come together in a clash of fists and yelling. Can’t tell who’s punching whom, what happened to the chain, but—

  “Fuck! You bit me!” Nick’s outrage would be comical in any other situation. Right now, not so much.

  I tune them out—concentrate. Got to concentrate.

  Nick’s left the keys in the ignition. I grab them and hit the trunk release. Got to be something in there I can use—a crowbar, a bag of oranges; shit, I don’t care! Anything I can hit him with, anything—oh, for fuck’s sake!

  This—this situation, right here—is why you don’t use your car as a garbage can.

  If we get out of this alive, I’m cleaning it for him. He’s got half his life back here: the child seat, a fire blanket, two crates of bottles and cans—bet he set out to recycle those months ago. There’s a math book Katie’s probably looking for, a jar of artichoke hearts, and there, half-hidden under a pile of glittery kid drawings, a road flare kit.

  Now, that has potential.

  I hear someone scream in anguish, a sound so strangled I can’t tell whether it came from Joe or Nick. One of them must’ve got the other between the legs. Or at least, I hope that’s all it was.

  Concentrate.

  I’ve never
used a flare before. Not even sure how they work. There’s instructions on the inside of the box, but I can’t make head nor tail of them in my state of panic. Remove plastic lid; twist off cap, but do not discard—there’s a lid and a cap? I stare stupidly at the flare. It’s too dark to see. I’ll just have to—

  I hear running footsteps, and a hard thump. I glance up to see Nick with his face in the dirt, Joe’s arms wrapped around his legs. He must’ve tried to run. Nick rolls over and reaches for something just outside the headlights’ glow. But Joe’s grabbing for something too, and fuck, not good—what’s a rock that size even doing in the middle of the clearing?

  I yank at the end of the flare. Something pops off—got to be the lid. So the cap has to be.... I twist, and fuck, fuck... It’s stuck! I can’t—

  There’s a sharp yelp of alarm, and something slams into the dirt. I glance up: Joe’s hunched over Nick, whose head is canted sharply to the side. Good thing it is, or that rock would’ve cracked his skull like an egg.

  I grip the flare between my knees and twist hard. This time, the cap comes off. What’s next?—Gently strike the flare with the scratch surface of the cap.

  So...like lighting a match?

  By some miracle, the flare whooshes to life on the first attempt. I run back around the car. “Hey! Asshole! Over here!”

  Joe freezes with the rock above his head. I whip the flare at him with all my strength. He drops the rock—not on Nick, by some mercy—and throws up his arms to protect his face. The flare hits him square in the chest. He shrieks, hitting a high, inhuman note. Nick bucks him off. I watch just long enough to make sure he’s getting away, and dive into the car. Nick joins me a second later, breathing hard. He’s got the beginnings of a spectacular black eye, and there’s a bloodstain spreading on his sleeve, but he doesn’t look badly hurt.

  “You all right?”

  Nick nods, still catching his breath. “You?”

  “I...think so?” Going to be bruised all to hell tomorrow, and I could easily sleep for a week, but nothing feels bloody or broken. I buckle my seat belt.

  “Should we—“

  “Wait—hold on.” Shit. I can’t see Joe any more. “Where’d he go? Is he—?” We can’t just leave him here, if he’s hurt, or blinded, or—

  Something slams against the passenger-side window. We both scream. Joe’s right there, bashing his shoulder into the window, like he thinks he can break it. And maybe he can; maybe this nightmare will never end.

  “Fuck! How the hell’s he still standing?“ Nick slams the car into reverse. My stomach drops as he accelerates into a grit-spraying U-turn. Moments later, Joe’s dwindling in the rearview mirror.

  Nick glances at me. “We’ll send the cops after him, yeah? I don’t think... Do you want to go back for him?”

  Hell, no, I don’t. I shake my head. The adrenaline’s wearing off, and I feel like a huge blob of jelly. “His car—his car’s still—“

  “Don’t worry. I let the air out of his tires.”

  He really did have a plan. A well-baked one.

  I let my head loll back against the seat. I can actually feel the tension leaving my body. My legs start to tremble. My hands let go of fists I didn’t know I was making. I’m suddenly thirsty, and hungry, and kind of sick at the same time. So many ways that could’ve gone south—if Joe’d had better aim with that rock, if I’d hit the wrong man with the flare—a nightmare vision pops into my head, Nick clawing at his eyes as wax from the flare runs down his cheeks like tears....

  “I could’ve hit you with that thing.” I’m tearing up now, myself. My whole face feels hot.

  Nick drops a hand on my thigh. The warm weight’s reassuring. “Hey. It’s all right. It’s over. This was his fault, and a little bit mine, and... You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a thing. You were amazing.”

  I don’t feel amazing. I feel stupid and small—I acted out of panic, probably came within a hair of at least disfiguring either Nick or Joe.

  “We’re safe. Everything’s fine. Nothing else matters.”

  It’s too much: fat tears spill over and race each other down my cheeks. I choke back a sob. Don’t want to fall apart in front of Nick—in front of anyone, but especially Nick. But I’m so tired. I can feel it in my bones, an exhaustion so deep I’m tingling with it, like static under my skin. I’m all out of fight. Even closing my eyes doesn’t slow the tears.

  “Joey’s with your parents,” says Nick. “You’ll be with him soon.”

  That only makes me cry harder. Can’t even talk around the lump in my throat.

  “Shit, I... You have no idea how much I want to hold you right now, but....”

  I manage a nod. Holding Nick’s hand while he’s driving seems like a bad idea, but I slide mine beside his, so our pinkies touch.

  “We’ll get you home, get a doctor over to look at you, just make sure—did he give you water? Are you dehydrated? ‘Cause I think I’ve got water somewhere, maybe in the trunk?“

  “He... We had blue Gatorade.” I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. This is embarrassing.

  “Do you want to go home, or straight to your mom’s? I can call ahead, get some food brought over, if you... Or maybe you have something?” He’s kind of babbling. He must be as freaked out as I am, or close enough. That actually helps a little.

  “Home. Don’t want Joey to see me all...however I must look right now.”

  “Okay. Home it is. Home, sweet home. Or maybe—how about my place? I just realized, I left Katie....”

  I swallow hard, blink back the last of my tears. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good, just... Don’t want to freak her out either.”

  “She’ll be in her room. Way she cranks her music, she won’t even hear us come in.”

  Okay. Okay. That sounds good. Not the way I’d have wanted to see Nick’s place for the first time, but knowing Joe’s been in mine, leaving dead rats, doing...things... I’m not sure I ever want to go there again. And the bed has to go. Fumigating the sheets couldn’t begin to clear the contamination.

  Nick calls the cops the minute he gets a signal. When they pass us on the highway, going the other way, I feel like I could melt into my seat. It’s over, really over, or as close as it’s going to get, before that jailhouse door clangs shut on my past.

  I cover a yawn with my hand. I’ve reached that stage of weariness where everything’s all soft and floaty around the edges. Feels like... Feels like sinking into a warm, fuzzy beanbag chair.

  That makes me laugh, or maybe I only imagine myself laughing, because Nick doesn’t react, and the streetlights are all running together, and next thing I know, I’m waking up in Manhattan. Somebody’s honking at us, and I really do laugh at that. Nothing’s changed. I just took a vacation in hell, but back here... It’s like I never left.

  I like that idea—the thought of sliding back into my usual routine, letting the last couple of days fade away like an old bruise. Hearing my parents’ excited voices on Nick’s phone’s even better. Joey’s already in bed, but he’s fine, he’s happy; he thinks I’ve been stuck at work all this time. He’s been having a grand old time with the grandparents. He’s turned their whole living room into a blanket fort.

  I’ll see him tomorrow, and soon... Soon, it’ll be like nothing happened.

  Or at least nothing bad.

  If nothing else, this disaster has clarified my feelings for Nick. I’m falling for him, and hard.

  157

  Nick

  Sunrise over Manhattan’s never looked so good. We’re sitting out in the solarium, under the ferns and ivy, eating a breakfast of deviled eggs—Katie’s idea. At least the whole oatmeal phase is a thing of the past. No matter how comforting everyone says it is, no matter how much cinnamon’s mixed in, to me, oatmeal will never look like anything but hot barf. And it doesn’t taste much better.

  “So? How did you get that bruise?” Katie seems more curious than scared. Still, this is one case where I’ll definitely be stretching the truth.

 
“Kind of a...dark forest, low-hanging branch situation.”

  “Is that true?” She’s looking at Lina.

  Lina stirs some sugar into her coffee. “Mm-hm. Your dad came striding out of that forest like a wild man. Head-to-toe pine needles. Just the sight of him was enough to scare that evil ex into submission.” She winks.

  We’ve decided to go with a version of the truth for Katie. She’s old enough to watch the news, old enough to bust us on an outright lie. But she doesn’t have to know the gory details.

  She seems to buy it, at least for now. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says. “Dad was going nuts when you were missing.”

  “I missed him too.” Lina smiles at me over her coffee cup. I feel the tips of my ears going red.

  I clear my throat. “So, uh, Katie... What’ve you got planned for today?”

  “Painting your windows, duh.”

  My... Oh, right. Totally spaced on the window displays. “Sorry. Forgot it was Saturday. You and Cindy need a ride?”

  “No. Her mom’s sending a car after breakfast. We’ll be back in time for dinner.”

  “Wait—you don’t have anyone going with you?”

  Katie opens her mouth. I can feel another duh hovering in the air.

  I head her off at the pass. “Any adult, I mean.”

  “The driver’ll wait.”

  That is so not my idea of adult supervision.

  “Why don’t we go with you?” Lina glances at me, then back to Katie. “We could pick up Joey, make a little party of it. Don’t worry—he’s pretty artistic.”

  Katie looks pensive, and I’m positive she’s about to protest, but she surprises me. “We could do, like, a fingerpainting thing, and a stick-figure Santa, so it kind of looks like kid art. And write ‘Merry Christmas’ with backward Rs.” She grins. “I wanted to show Joey to Cindy, anyway. She doesn’t believe he’s cuter than Sharon’s little brother, and he totally is.”

  Joey’s clingy when we pick him up. Not just with Lina, but with me and Katie, even Cindy. He goes around collecting hugs from everyone. It’s a little heartbreaking. After what happened with his dad, losing his mom would have to be his worst nightmare. Still, he perks up like a champ when the girls start setting up their paints, and soon, all three of them are happily daubing away.