Somebody's Baby

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “That can be arranged. You ever been to Pizza World?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Then you’re in for a real treat, city girl.”

  Toby hustled over, dragging a sack of bats through the red dirt. His happy expression faded when he saw that Sloan was alone. “Mama get sick?”

  “I think the sun got to her,” Sloan said, feeling a heart tug and not wanting to dampen his spirit. “May I come with you today in her place?”

  Toby shrugged, kicked a clod of dirt with his shoe. “Sure.”

  Cole took the bag, tossed it over his shoulder. “Come on, buddy. I’ll race you to the truck.”

  Sloan watched them run across the now empty parking lot, the bats clattering in the bag. Toby reached the truck first, and his childish squeal of “I win! I win!” echoed through the still, hot air. And inside Sloan’s head, ghosts stirred of another sunny day in a park near a set of swings. She took a sharp breath and pushed the phantoms aside, then quickly jogged to the truck, where Cole and Toby waited for her to catch up.

  Pizza World lay within a sprawling strip mall on a newer side of town. In the years since she’d been away, Windemere had grown considerably, with clusters of new homes and shopping centers, parks, schools, and playgrounds. The changes amazed Sloan. “This was farmland when I lived here.”

  “Well, it’s still rural on my side of town, and that’s the way I like it,” Cole said, parking the truck.

  Stepping inside the pizzeria was like entering a gigantic cafeteria. There were rows of long tables and benches for seating, plus cafe tables hugging walls that were covered with pennants, posters, and framed photos of Little League baseball teams. The aromas of yeasty crust, tomato sauce, and pepperoni made Sloan’s tummy growl, unheard over the noise of laughter, shouting, and kids’ voices.

  “Yep,” Cole said, watching her check out the space. “Every team who plays in a sports league comes here after Saturday games. You up for it?” He pointed. “Over there. They saved us a table for two.”

  One of the dads waved. Cole gave a thumbs-up and grabbed trays for Sloan and himself. Toby barreled ahead, shoveled pizza slices onto a plastic plate, and hurried away to join his teammates already seated on benches. Cole ushered Sloan along a long cafeteria-style counter of hot sliced pizzas slathered with every imaginable topping, including dessert toppings. He paid with a credit card for the team, and when he and Sloan reached their table, she again saw people eyeing her. “Am I the first girl Coach has ever brought to a pizza party?”

  “The prettiest girl he ever brought,” he said around a mouthful of toppings and sauce.

  Two girls materialized beside their table, staring wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, the shorter girl clutching a pen and two Pizza World napkins. She held out the napkins. “Can we have your autograph?”

  Sloan smiled, signed the flimsy tissue, and handed them back, and the girls scampered off, squealing.

  “Toby’s told everybody you’re his aunt. No harm in that, is there?”

  There was nothing she could do about it, so she said, “That’s fine.”

  Cole and Terri were the only ones who knew the complete story, and both wanted to protect Lindsey, and also Sloan’s privacy. Cole took another bite of pizza, spoke around the mouthful. “I’ve seen your car parked at Lindsey’s house more often lately.”

  “My part of the album is finished. It’s in the final stages of production, then will go out to retailers. These days I’m taping a video.” She rolled her eyes. “Pretty boring work, lip-syncing phrase by phrase to please a cranky director. Feels like I’ll never be done because of lighting issues, and set maintenance, tech glitches, and rain delays. But when we wrap up every day, I don’t want to sit alone in my hotel room, so I come here. I like Lindsey. Very much. And Gloria says Lindsey looks forward to my visits…a win-win.”

  “I’m glad you’re getting to know her better.”

  The unspoken lay between them….Lindsey’s time is short. “I’m spending this weekend at the house,” she volunteered. “Toby gave me his room. Says he’ll sleep on a blow-up mattress in his mom’s bedroom. He told me it’s like ‘camping.’ ”

  Cole chuckled. “Yeah…we went camping once. Last summer in my backyard. He made it till midnight, then told me he should check on his mom. I was never so glad to see a camping trip end, so I could finish the night in my bed.” Sloan laughed over Cole’s expression. “Toby still talks about it, though, says he wants to camp some more. My back hurts just thinking about it. You ever camp?”

  How did she tell him that for her camping had meant being shut into her tiny trailer bedroom if LaDonna brought a “friend” home? “Never tried it. Not sure I want to be out in the wild with ‘lions and tigers and bears, oh my!’ ”

  “Okay, Dorothy, I get it. You’re happier in Oz.”

  Toby edged up to the table, pizza sauce circling his mouth, a serious look on his face. “Cole, can we go home? I want to see Mama.”

  Cole’s eyes softened. “Sure can, buddy. Why don’t you wash up, and Sloan and I will wait for you on the sidewalk.”

  Toby scampered off, and Cole and Sloan walked out, leaving the racket of voices behind. Cole said, “You know Toby’s birthday is at the end of the month. I’m doing a cookout bash, and Gloria’s bringing all the stuff for Toby and his friends. It’s only hot dogs, ice cream, and cake—homemade by me”—he bowed slightly—“but if you want to come…” He paused, leaving the invitation hanging.

  “Soon as the video wraps, I head out on tour. What’s left of June through most of July,” she said, genuinely regretful. “I would if I could.”

  He was disappointed. “Okay, how about you let me know when you’ll come back, and I cook you a special dinner?”

  Her pulse quickened with the offer and the look in his eyes. “It’s a date.”

  Their gazes held, an intricate web of desires untouched, of promises untapped. The door opened, breaking the spell, and Toby pushed between them. “You ready?” Cole asked.

  He was talking to Toby, but Sloan imagined he also meant the question for her.

  Classroom studies at St. Jude’s and ongoing clinical work were the kind of mental and emotional stimulation that Lani thrived on. The classroom work challenged her brain, and the clinical, her heart. She soaked up the long hours like a sponge, never even saw it as work, saw it simply as an extension of the life she wanted. Time flew by. She made friends with other nurses in the fellowship program—Janette (everyone called her Netter) from Iowa, Tracy from Florida, and Kesha from Chicago. They would often gather in Lani’s living room, drink wine, and talk about their days, the work, and the children in their care. The only hole that the experience couldn’t fill was Dawson’s. She missed him terribly…his smile, his arms, his presence. They texted, talked on their phones late at night, but still it wasn’t the same as having him close enough to touch.

  “Miss me?” she’d ask when he called.

  “Like a fish misses water. My crew avoids me because I’m so snarly. You miss me?”

  “Only when I’m awake or asleep.”

  That made him laugh. “So that would be all the time?”

  “All the time, every day.”

  “So let me ask…what are you doing Fourth of July?”

  “Some of my nurse friends want to go to Beale Street and hit the jazz clubs, then watch the fireworks over the Mississippi River. One of them has a cousin with a condo overlooking the water. How about you?”

  “I was thinking of driving over and seeing if we could make some fireworks of our own.”

  Her heart leaped. “Please come. They’re a great bunch, and we’ll have a good time.” She didn’t add that when she’d showed her friends his picture, they’d asked, “What are you thinkin’, girl? Leaving that hunky-looking guy alone at home.” And said, “Hope you got a mean old guard dog around him.”

  “Gee, me hitched up with a group of pretty nurses. Let me think about it….” Dawson teased. “So if I should have a h
eart attack and need mouth-to-mouth—”

  “I’ll be the nurse who’ll resuscitate you.”

  Their group for the Fourth grew in size when interns from the hospital heard about the get-together. On the night of the Fourth, Beale Street was packed with people partying in the body-drenching humidity. The group crammed into bars and clubs, toasted the night, danced, and shared hospital war stories, and although Dawson was familiar with their medical jargon, he was content to sit on the fringes observing Lani. Her eyes sparkled, her laughter bubbled. With her peers, she was the Lani he’d first fallen for, effervescent and outgoing, totally different from the Lani of those dark months in Windemere. He was happy for her but fearful for himself. She was in her element here, doing what she loved to do, with people who spoke the same language—medicine. What if she didn’t want to come home?

  No matter how many beers he drank that night, or fireworks explosions they saw, not even the night and morning they shared in each other’s arms could drive the fear of such a possibility out of his head.

  Sloan zipped along the interstate in her rental convertible, the mid-July sky sliding from twilight to darkness in a slow fade. She glanced at her dashboard gauges and noticed that the gas tank needle pointed to empty. She was near the off-ramp for the rural back roads that would take her to Lindsey’s house, so she exited, pulled into a gas station, refueled, went inside to pay. She waited in a short line, heard the attendant’s radio playing in the background, and her own voice singing. She held back a self-satisfied smile. “Your album opened at number five on the country Billboard charts,” Terri had told her two days before on the phone, “and ‘Somebody’s Baby’ has crossed over to the pop charts. That’s a big deal, and the label is very happy.”

  Sloan was happy too. She’d just come off a blistering tour in the northwest and was taking some overdue and necessary R&R. While waiting in line, she glanced around the station’s mini-mart, swept clean, and glowing with fluorescent lighting, at shelves stuffed with road food, refrigerated cases of water and soda, and countertops crowded with last-minute grab-and-go items. Her eyes hit a dead stop on a large glass jar near the register, partially filled with money. The label read: PLEASE HELP! UNPAID MEDICAL BILLS. Underneath the label was a photo of Lindsey Ridley. When it was Sloan’s turn to pay for gas, she nodded toward the jar. “Friend of yours?”

  “Sad story,” the woman behind the counter said. “Poor gal’s dying from cancer and has bills stacked up to the ceiling. No insurance. Not a lick.”

  Sloan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How do you know?”

  “I know her friend, Gloria, and she’s set these jars all over town so folks can donate. Every penny matters.” The attendant handed Sloan her change, and Sloan stuffed it into the jar and hurried to her car. Could this be true? Why hadn’t someone told her? She gunned the engine and shot down the two-lane road, and by the time she’d reached Lindsey’s, she was angry. The porch light was on, casting yellow light outward, and moths were flapping helplessly at the fixture. Sloan knocked, and the screen door was flung open by Toby, who hugged her around the waist and pulled her inside. “Thanks for the games!”

  She patted Toby’s upturned face. “Did everything get here in time for your birthday?”

  “Yes! Everything’s awesome. I got more games than all my friends!”

  She’d sent him a new state-of-the-art gaming console, a TV just for game playing—the new set was positioned beside the other television—and a stack of the newest games for his age group.

  Cole, sitting on the sofa with a game controller, stood awkwardly. Their eyes met, and he saw instantly that Sloan was upset. “Everything all right?”

  “Where’s Gloria?”

  Cole thumbed toward the kitchen doorway. “Making popcorn. Can I help you?”

  “Not yet,” Sloan said, stepping around the furniture groupings, “but I want to talk to you later.”

  Cole eased down onto the couch, and Toby bounced down beside him and pushed the button to un-pause the game. Cole played, his mind no longer on the cartoon characters but on Sloan and her angry expression. Whatever had happened, she was wearing it like a signboard. He hoped Gloria could handle it.

  Gloria turned from the microwave with a bag of popcorn when Sloan swept into the kitchen. “Welcome back! Lindsey’s on the back porch in a lounger—” Gloria’s smile faded. “Is something wrong, Sloan?”

  “I stopped at a gas station and saw the contribution jar for Lindsey.”

  Color splattered Gloria’s face. “Oh, Sloan…don’t say nothin’ to Lindsey about the jars. Please.”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  “No, she doesn’t. I took it on myself to set up the jars. But people are helpin’, giving money for her bills. She didn’t want you to know about the insurance stuff. Not ever. She made me swear to never tell you.”

  “Does Cole know?”

  Gloria’s head bobbed. “He put a big jar at the firehouse, and those guys stuff it regular. We got over a thousand dollars already in three weeks. Isn’t that wonderful? Don’t be mad at me, Sloan….I’m just trying to help.”

  Gloria’s sincerity and pleas softened Sloan. “I just wish someone had said something to me about it.”

  With eyes downcast, Gloria tore open the popcorn bag and dumped the contents into a plastic bowl. “You was on the road, and she didn’t want you knowin’ how bad off things were with money. She ain’t got much left ’cept pride, so leave her some of that when you talk to her. Not her fault.” Gloria drizzled melted butter onto the snowy white kernels.

  “You said Lindsey’s outside?”

  “She likes to sit out most evenings stargazin’. Says it’s good for her soul.” Gloria clutched the bowl and stepped around Sloan, and Sloan opened the solid wood back door and stepped into the night. “I best take this in to Toby and Cole.”

  Lindsey lay in a lounge chair, wrapped in a cotton quilt, and turned toward Sloan with a smile for a greeting. “Thought that might be you when I heard the car engine. You look lovely….Here, come sit with me. Excuse the quilt, but I still get cold, even in July.”

  Sloan pulled over a lightweight lawn chair, her irritation evaporating into the star-riddled sky. “How you doing?”

  “Not much new. But I made it to Toby’s birthday and now every extra day is a gift.” She reached out her hand, and Sloan clasped it. “You were too generous to him, you know.”

  “A guy only turns seven once.” Her mind flashed a backward glance to her own birthday events. Gifts never took priority over her mother’s love of gin. Sloan had slept one such birthday night away in the backseat of the car while LaDonna had partied inside a bar.

  “How’d your concerts go? Wish I could go to one, but those crowds.” She shook her head. “Too much for me. You staying long this visit?”

  “Concerts were fine. And I have to go back to LA in just a few days.”

  Lindsey rubbed her temples. “I’m glad you came tonight, and I’m glad we’re alone. I need to talk to you.” Sloan stilled. “I don’t have much time left….Pretty much running on empty now. I’m on morphine, big doses of it, but the headaches…none of the pain drugs are helping much. The hospice people take care of me during the day, and Gloria at night, but it’s wearing her out after working all day.”

  Hearing Lindsey speak of her impending death, on this starry summer night, with only the sounds of katydids and tree frogs, felt surreal. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair!

  Lindsey’s voice grew stronger. “I’ve made a will with a lawyer, so it’s all legal and everything. What little I have I’m leaving to Toby. I bought this house for cash, and it’s deeded to Gloria, so they’ll have a place to live after I pass. I want you to take all my scrapbooks and records of our daddy.” Lindsey cupped her hand over Sloan’s. “Gloria has my power of attorney, and guardianship of Toby. She can make decisions for him, and raise him up. I’m trusting her with my most valuable possession.”

  Lindsey’s reality left Sloan su
bdued and shaken.

  “Gloria’s had a hard life, in and out of foster homes from the time she was ten, but she’s my dearest friend, and I know she’ll take care of my Toby. I wanted you to know my plans so that you won’t worry about Toby after I’m gone. You have a wonderful life ahead of you, and you don’t need to go worrying about things in Windemere.”

  She didn’t want to unravel in front of Lindsey, but felt torn, not wanting to disappear from Toby’s life, but she had a career to navigate. “How can I help, though…after…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence.

  Lindsey helped. “From time to time, maybe you can look in on them. You know, just keep in touch…birthdays, Christmases…that kind of stuff.” She leaned closer. “I’ve bought cards ahead to his eighteenth birthday, and asked Gloria to be sure he gets one every year. I love my boy with all my heart, and he’s the hardest thing to leave behind.”

  “His memories of you won’t die. I’ve been told that love never dies.” Sloan spoke around the thickness in her throat and the unspoken pain in her heart. She knew firsthand the truth of those words. Love never dies. She composed herself. “Does Toby really understand what’s happening to you?”

  “We’ve had some talks. When he was three, we buried his goldfish together, and he seemed to understand then that the fish wasn’t coming back.”

  There was a huge difference between losing a goldfish and losing a mother. “I’ll keep in touch with him and Gloria, Lindsey. Maybe I can fly them out to LA and take them to Disneyland.”

  “He’d love that. What am I saying? They’d both love that.” Lindsey gazed skyward, sighed. “Look at all those stars. Know what I’m looking forward to? Seeing those stars up close and from all sides, because I’ll bet they’re awesome.”

  Cole stood on his back deck, forearms resting on the top railing. He watched Sloan walk the distance between his and Lindsey’s homes in the dark of the night, with only starlight and a sliver of moonlight to guide her steps. At the foot of the stairs she looked up, and he straightened. “I’ve been expecting you.”