‘I love you too, Brian. You and Jan and Lucia were the first real family I ever knew. Promise me nothing will go wrong, that our plan is solid.’
‘I promise.’
Because she knew she’d be too nervous and distracted to pay proper attention to her patients, she asked Liz to cancel and rebook two-thirds of the morning’s appointments and space out the others. Faith then told her that Mr Brown and baby Jill, the ten forty-five appointment, weren’t to be kept waiting but shown immediately into Room One.
The only member of her staff who had any idea that something was going on was Fran, her pediatric nurse. Faith had told her there was going to be a police presence in Room Three, the biggest of the examining rooms, and that whatever she was doing when the Browns arrived, she was to drop everything and go to Room One.
‘Start getting the baby prepped for a typical follow-up exam. I’ll be in sooner than usual and if you’ve left patients waiting, head back to whichever one has priority. And, finally, no matter what happens, keep everyone inside the examining rooms until you get the all clear.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ Fran said with typical placidity. ‘I’ll be waiting on tenterhooks to hear what this is all about, although I’ve got a pretty good idea.’
‘Thank you, Franny. We will talk. You have my word,’ Faith promised a bit breathlessly, then took a minute in her office to try to calm down before heading out to see her first patient.
Her thoughts were scattered, fraught with scenarios of disaster, and she had to keep dragging herself into the moment to deal with her first appointment – a fortunately routine check-up of a one-year-old. It was hard to focus. Her brain, like a willful toddler, kept darting into mental traffic, forcing her to follow at top speed to retrieve it. By the conclusion of the visit she was overheated, perspiring heavily. And in defiance of the two Excedrin Migraine tablets she’d taken upon arriving at the office, the morning’s headache had returned full force. Her vision was intermittently foggy, her ears ached, and nausea kept threatening to overturn her stomach.
Baby Jill’s screams announced their arrival. Liz phoned on the intercom just as Faith’s second appointment finished, to announce that Mr Brown and his baby were being directed to Room One by Judy, the second receptionist. Faith went to her office and gulped some Pepto-Bismol right from the bottle, wiped her damp hands on her lab coat, then went across the hall to open the door to Room Three and whisper, ‘They’re here and just heading into Room One.’
Brian gave her a thumbs up and Faith closed the door and started down the hall with shaky legs and knees that felt as if they were going to give out at any moment. She was suddenly a poorly made puppet with tangled strings. Her pulse was in overdrive and she had to pause for a moment, trying to slow her breathing before putting her damp hand on the doorknob.
Baby Jill was on the examining shelf in her diaper and, as arranged, Fran went back to her other patient. Faith had to restrain herself from instantly snatching up the baby. Instead, she placed the flat of her hand on Jill’s belly and smiled down at her. ‘How is the rash looking?’ she asked, glancing briefly over her shoulder at the harried-looking Mr Brown.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘I guess it’s a bit better.’
‘Well, let’s have a look,’ Faith said, removing the diaper as the baby’s eyes tracked her every move. Time seemed to have shifted into a kind of slow-motion as Faith took in the thick coating of ointment that concealed much of the baby’s bottom. She wondered if it was intended to conceal the evidence of his continued abuse or if he was just inept. She carefully phrased a question and opened her mouth to speak when the door was suddenly flung open with force that sent it crashing against the inside wall. The baby was startled into noisy tears as two men in suits, an officer in uniform and Brian all pushed into the room, with Brian closing the door behind him.
All in a matter of seconds, Faith lifted the baby into her arms and held her close, one hand stroking the baby’s spine as Brown shot to his feet in instant panic, exclaiming, ‘What the fuck?!’
The first of the suited men started reciting a list of charges with the word interstate repeated several times, then the second man followed up with a Miranda warning as the uniformed officer spun the man around and closed a pair of cuffs around his wrists behind his back in one well-practiced move. ‘It was you!’ he accused Faith, livid. ‘You called the fuckin’ law on me? You did and I’ll kill you.’
‘Uttering death threats,’ the first suit said. ‘That’s another charge.’
‘Get fucked!’ Brown raged.
‘That’s enough of that,’ Brian said in a low warning voice. ‘You’re in a place filled with children.’
‘you’re dead, bitch!’ Brown shouted. Then, catching everyone off guard, he kicked out and connected brutally with Faith’s shin. Faith flinched, gasping with pain, her hold on the baby automatically tightening. A rocket of fire spread up her leg, turning her breathing jagged, causing her eyes to flutter closed for a second or two. The uniformed officer clamped one hand over Brown’s mouth, squeezing hard; with the other he gave the cuffs a ferocious twist so that they bit sharply into the flesh beneath. Lifting Brown so that his back bowed, the policeman frogmarched him out of the room. Shamefaced, the two other men followed murmuring almost inaudible apologies, leaving the door open. The baby kept screaming, her body vibrating inside Faith’s arms, as if she could feel Faith’s pain. The terrified cries, the trembling was almost an exact duplication of baby Gracie’s anguish so many years before. Faith’s hand curved over the back of Jill’s skull, holding her even closer. How was it possible to live through an experience like this twice? She stood, swaying back and forth, working to calm the baby, trying to keep her weight off the injured leg.
Brian watched Faith for several seconds, then said in a low, confidential voice, ‘I am so sorry about that. Are you okay?’
Faith nodded, knowing there was going to be a dreadful bruise on her leg.
‘We’re going to have to take the baby, Doctor,’ he then said in a normal tone of voice meant to be overheard. ‘Someone from DCF is on the way and should be here any moment. You might want to get the baby dressed.’
Faith went rigid. Baby Jill’s cries were subsiding and she was clutching a handful of Faith’s hair with her eyes now on Brian, who picked up a onesie from the visitor’s chair and held it out to Faith.
‘Get her dressed,’ he said quietly.
‘God,’ she whispered, her hands unsteady as she returned Jill to the console and reached for a diaper. She took a moment to wipe off some of the excess ointment, then fastened on the diaper. ‘God, God,’ she murmured, her coordination gone, her breathing shallow. She felt small and inadequate, hating the overpowering déjà vu sense she had of history repeating itself. Despite knowing in advance what was going to happen, she hadn’t expected to feel the way she did.
The onesie on, she grabbed some tissues to wipe the wide smear of ointment from her lab coat, then again lifted the baby into her arms. Her eyes closing automatically, she let her cheek rest against the top of the baby’s head. Jill’s fingers again wound into Faith’s hair. Her heart pushing hard against Faith’s breast, she emitted a mournful keening that razored away at Faith’s emotions, eliciting a reciprocal sorrow. She couldn’t bear to let the baby go but Brian said quietly, ‘It’s time, Dr Lazarus,’ and Faith lifted her head to see a tall, sober-suited, middle-aged woman with skinned-back hair standing just inside the room, her arms outstretched to take Jill. ‘Please, just one more minute.’ Her hold on the baby tightened. ‘One more minute.’
‘I’m sorry but I have to take her,’ the woman said kindly with a slight smile. ‘She’ll be well looked after.’
Faith kissed the baby’s cheek and forehead, then held her close again as she uttered shushing sounds against her ear. At last, Faith lifted her into the waiting woman’s outstretched arms.
Without another word, the woman turned and carried the still crying baby away. Brian quietly closed the
door after her.
‘Brian, that was terrible.’
‘Close up shop for the day, honey, and go home. We’ll talk later.’ He opened the door again and, nodding dumbly, Faith followed him into the hall where she stopped and watched him go out the door. She stood for what felt like a long time, until she realized the staff were all watching her, waiting for some sort of signal.
Pulling herself together, she said to Liz, ‘Cancel the rest of the appointments, please, and rebook them, then send all the patients home. Refer any emergencies to Dr DeCastro and leave an emergency notice on the answering machine. I’m going home. I’ll be back in the morning and will explain then what just happened. Thank you all . . .’ She couldn’t get another word out and went to her office where she dumped her lab coat, grabbed her bag and started for the door, her leg throbbing.
Fran came out from behind the reception desk and went out to the parking lot with Faith, where she stopped in front of her and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘I want you to know you’re my hero,’ Fran said. ‘It’s an honor to work with you, to know you. What you just did . . .’ She shook her head wonderingly. ‘As I said, you’re my hero.’ She hugged Faith, then said, ‘Go home, have yourself a drink and get some rest. We’ll see you in the morning.’
Faith returned the hug, gave her a watery smile, then went to her car where she sat staring into space for several minutes, her attention divided between the pain pulsing in her leg and what had just occurred. At last, she turned the ignition key, reversed out of the lot and started for home.
JUNE 2003
TWENTY-ONE
Faith was running a little late; her schedule had been thrown off track by a toddler’s need for some sutures to a fairly deep cut on the palm of his hand as a result of a playground fall on a piece of broken glass which, all agreed, shouldn’t have been there. The mother was on the verge of hysteria, wringing her hands and barely able to sit still, but the boy was composed, watching every step of the procedure with fascination.
‘You might just have a future doctor here,’ she told the anxious mother as Faith snipped the thread and applied a bandage. ‘Keep this covered and try not to get it wet for the next forty-eight hours. Apply antibiotic ointment twice a day, and after the first forty-eight hours, it’ll be safe to get it wet. A few days and you can remove the bandage. Bring him back in two weeks and we’ll remove the sutures.’
Lifting the child from the examining console, she squatted down to be eye-to-eye with him and said, ‘You’re a superstar, Cole,’ at which the boy beamed. He was one of her regular patients, a lovely child.
‘Yeah!’ Grinning, he gave her a high five.
‘Take good care of your hand, okay, Cole? If your bandage gets dirty, ask mama to change it. Okay?’
‘’Kay.’
‘See you in two weeks,’ she said, rising.
‘Yeah!’ he said again, still beaming as his mother, so distraught she couldn’t speak, took hold of his other hand and led him out.
Now, Faith had to concentrate on not speeding. She hated being late for anything. And being late today was unacceptable. Nervous and excited, her hands were slick on the wheel. Luckily, being late meant the traffic flowed well on Route 7 and she made good time up to Kent.
There were a lot of cars parked out front but a spot had been left for her in the driveway. She took a quick appreciative glance at the exquisite garden, checked once again that the documents were in her bag, then hurried out of the car, up the stairs and across the porch. Music and giddy-sounding conversation flowed from the open windows. Utterly elated, Faith pushed open the screen door and gazed at the crowd assembled inside.
Everyone she loved was present: Brian and Lucia, Captain Garvey, Connie and Stefan, Tally and Hay, Tyler and Mae, and Fran from the office.
Catching sight of Faith in the doorway, Tally scooped up the baby from where she’d been sitting on the floor with Hay and Lucia, and came dancing across the room as those gathered went silent with expectation. ‘Look,’ Tally said to the baby. ‘Who’s here?’
‘Mama!’ the baby declared in her surprising low voice, holding her arms out to Faith.
Tally gave Faith a kiss and a one-armed hug as she passed over the baby. ‘We were starting to get a bit worried,’ she said quietly, touching her hand to Faith’s cheek.
‘We had a toddler emergency. Sorry.’
‘Hush. No need to apologize. We’re all just glad you’re here.’
‘I love you, Tally.’ Faith absorbed the woman’s beauty, marveling as always that they’d been lucky enough to find each other.
‘Love you, too, sweetheart. You’ve given me back most of what I lost in my life.’
Hay came over to say, ‘Food’s about ready,’ and leaned in to whisper. ‘Little Miss ate some solid food today. A bowl of stuff that smelled like a houseful of bad plumbing.’
Faith roared with laughter and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his smooth-shaven cheek. ‘Hilarious,’ she said, thinking as always how much younger he looked without the beard. ‘When did you become so funny?’
‘Probably around the same time I had to start finding ways to entertain Little Miss.’
‘I love it!’
‘How could you not?’ he said wryly. And she had to wonder at the people they’d all become, suddenly filled with a euphoric sense of homecoming. For the first time in her life, she had more answers than questions.
Faith let her bag drop to the floor as she took hold of the baby and swung her up into the air. Then, she lowered her to ride on her hip where the baby immediately began toying with Faith’s crystal pendant. She watched the baby for a moment, then looked around at all the smiling faces and said, ‘It’s official! Thanks to everyone here – especially Uncle Brian, the clever police chief who got the Feds involved to remove the case from our jurisdiction, and Tally, who was brilliant in her performance as a social worker from DCF – as of three weeks ago we welcomed a brand-new family member into the world. She has a social security number and a birth certificate. She also has an extended family right here in this room: aunts and uncles, Granna Tally and Granpa Hay, and Greatgranpa Tyler. And we have all the paperwork to prove her existence, thanks to Aunt Fran’s skills with research and creative form-filling to establish the baby’s birth.’ She drew a deep breath, considering her wonderful good fortune at having such brave and special people in her life. Then she continued.
‘Our girl’s kind of on the tall side for being not yet a month old, but that’ll pass. And soon no one will think anything of her size, because thanks to Wonder Bread and food additives or farm-grown fish, or something, children are getting bigger every year. I love you all dearly. Thank you for helping me do this and for being who you are.’
Before anyone could react, Tyler said, ‘We all love you, darling girl. And thank you for being who you are.’
Spontaneously, everyone applauded.
The baby held very still and looked around, uncertain.
Hay turned down the volume on the stereo and the group began singing ‘Happy Birthday.’
‘It’s okay, Gracie.’ Faith smiled down at her. ‘It’s your birthday party and we’re all very happy.’
The baby’s hand released the pendant and started waving to the music. Then, she sang, ‘Ha-me!’ head bobbing, body bouncing up and down. ‘Ha-me.’
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to the following librarians in Connecticut: the reference desk in Darien; Judy Riva, Susanna Violino and Vicky Lucarelli in Norwalk, and Anne Killheffer in Stratford. These women were incredibly helpful in tracking down a number of rare articles that pertained to the 1982 kidnapping of a two-year-old – a case that haunted me for years and ultimately inspired the creation of Humaby/Faith.
The second case involved the daughter of a dear friend who spent a number of years in prison for second-degree murder in the death of her six-week-old son. I embellished the tale and altered it but, again, I was haunted by the case which led to the creation of Tally.
My thanks to Randall Toye. His enthusiasm for the early manuscript encouraged me to keep on with it. And finally I am grateful to Duke Fenady and Nina Ring Aamundsen who each read the manuscript in the editing stage and gave much-needed and most welcome feedback.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Charlotte Vale-Allen worked (among other things) as a sales person, a waitress, a secretary, an insurance broker, and as an actress and singer before turning to writing full-time with the publication of her first novel Love Life in 1976. Born in Toronto, Canada, Vale-Allen moved to the U.S. in 1966. The mother of an adult daughter and grandmother of twins, she has lived in Connecticut since 1970. Her award-winning autobiography (and only non-fiction work) Daddy’s Girl is in its third edition, after more than thirty printings. Please visit the author’s website at: www.charlottevaleallen.com
Where is the Baby? Page 22
