by Lynne Hugo
There wasn’t a homeless shelter in Elmont—was Rosalina homeless now anyway? And the next big city was Indianapolis. He didn’t see a halfway reasonable chance of finding her there. The thing was, he realized, he didn’t have the smallest notion of how detectives go about finding someone. He’d done everything he could think of, but surely a knowledgeable professional would be able to figure this out.
In spite of the Gospel message about feeding strangers, sentiment against undocumented people from Central and South America ran like a muddy river through these parts. Louisa had raised him to be unprejudiced about skin color, but that was his mother. Her prejudices were entirely different, although she saw her opinions as based on education and critical thinking. But don’t get her going on the subject of trophy hunting, her family always said. Gary didn’t have a glimmer of an idea whether there was a secret network that might have taken Rosalina in. Maybe there was no such thing and she was just gone, leaving him with a baby. A baby! What was he to do?
Twilight. He’d missed dinner and he hadn’t called his mother. But at least he’d come up with a Hail Mary pass—an expression Cody had explained to him, his lost son, Cody, who’d been so good at football—and now all he had to do was convince his mother and aunt to keep the baby longer.
After coming up empty-handed and empty-brained, he’d been driving the rural roads, brown-edged corn stalks high as the van on both sides, musing about how he didn’t know how detectives ever found a missing person. It just came to him like a boom of thunder, which he took as a Sign that Jesus was giving him an answer. His mother had a wannabe boyfriend who was a sheriff. Why not ask him how it’s done? Not tell him why, of course. Just get some information on how to do it. He could say it was all a confidential church matter, which was of course the truth, and tell him not to say anything.
Gary felt the burden lift from his shoulders, knowing Jesus was helping him now. Rosalina would be found, and it was going to be all right.
He went back to the church, closed himself in his office, and called Gus. Actually, he called the dispatch number, and—another Sign—Gus himself answered the phone, his voice blasting through the receiver.
“Confidential, huh? Sure, we can make that happen. Do you want me to swing by?”
Gary wondered how anything could be confidential anywhere when Gus seemed to talk through a megaphone. But the specter of a black-and-white squad car parked at the church in front of the giant banner hanging on the white-painted barn (JESUS IS THE ANSWER) was especially alarming. “No, uh, I don’t want to put you out. Why don’t I run over to headquarters in a bit, if we could meet privately?”
“Sure thing.” Gus’s voice boomed and Gary jerked the phone away from his ear.
* * *
The whole thing had started as a reasonable story, but somehow Gus saw through it. At least partly. “There’s a church member who may be in some trouble, and her family is looking for her.” An outright lie, God forgive him. “They’re not sure how to go about looking for her.”
“Where was she last seen?”
“Um, at the church. She came to see me, but I was in Atlanta at Uncle Charlie’s funeral.”
“With whom?”
“With Mom and Aunt CarolSue.”
Had Gus just rolled his eyes? “Who was with the person you want to find?” He left a pause between each word.
“Oh. She was by herself, as far as I know.”
“Known associates?”
“I don’t know.”
“But her family would know, right?”
“. . . I guess so.”
“What was she wearing?”
“I don’t know. I can ask Sister. But I don’t know if she’ll remember.”
“Why do you think she might be in trouble? What kind of trouble?”
“I guess it was Sister’s impression. I’m just trying to help. If she maybe . . . didn’t have papers, you know, where would she go?”
At that, Gus blew air onto his forehead and this time he definitely rolled his eyes. He pushed his chair back. “Son, what are you asking here? What’s really going on?” He was overweight, and his flesh looked like it wanted out of that uniform, pushing against the buttons of the shirt. He pinned Gary like a butterfly, and though his eyes were behind glasses too tight on his face, they weren’t hidden.
“Well, okay, she’d come to me before, for help. She came back. I wasn’t there. I feel bad about that. She’s missing now and I don’t know how to go about finding her to make sure she’s okay. That’s the whole story.”
“So . . . you’re the one who wants to find her.”
“Just to make sure she’s all right.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Me? I saw her last year. But she came looking for me, like I said, when I was in Atlanta with Mom and Aunt CarolSue. Sister said she was real upset. When someone comes for help, Jesus says—” Gary was starting to sweat, trying to avoid lying too much on top of fornicating.
“Yes, I’m sure Jesus says, son.” Gus had done security for the church’s first tent revival, but he never had joined the church, so Gary didn’t know what Gus believed, but he doubted he was Saved.
The office was smaller than Gary’s but had a collection of certificates of appreciation framed on the paneled walls, and a jumble of electronic police stuff. There were a couple of windows out into the dispatch area and even a separate area for the deputy. Shelves with stacks of binders. It all looked very official.
“Can you tell me what to do?”
“How about this, instead. Why don’t you give me a name and let me see what I can do for you?”
“Oh no, I don’t want to cause her trouble. She came to the church. You don’t understand. That’s sanctuary. That would be so wrong. I was asking you for advice, just unofficially, as my mother’s friend.” The volume of Gary’s voice rose, and he started to stand.
Gus gestured him back into his seat with his palm. “Calm down. That’s understood. All unofficial. I can’t do much with no name, though.”
“Oh. Sorry. Thanks. You sure, I mean, nothing will happen to her? You’d just tell me where she is, so I can check on her myself, like I could talk to her?”
“I can’t make her talk to you.”
“Right. Okay.”
“So . . . her name?”
Gary hesitated, but what choice did he have? “Rosalina Gonzalez. At first she told me Rosalina Lopez, though. But I think the Gonzalez is true.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Just . . . instinct.”
“She didn’t say why she gave you two different names?” Gus gave him the police stare, which reminded him eerily of his mother’s Look, but Gary just said, “No,” and shrugged.
“Odd,” Gus said. “I’d have asked about that one.”
Chapter 11
CarolSue
In the morning, it was Gracie who woke me up, not Jessie for once, and at dawn. I learned that she could go from an ignorable whimper to a frantic cry in a remarkably short time and could also effectively demand to be taken out of that baby carrier. I was just getting Jessie moved off the bed so I could get a big towel down and change Gracie—diaper and onesie both sopping—before fixing a bottle, when Louisa appeared in the doorway.
“I might as well have a rooster,” she muttered. “On the other hand, Bronson always waited for first light.” She headed for the bathroom and then, on the way back, said, “I’m going to kill Gary,” in a matter-of-fact tone. Gracie wailed on.
The protest stopped, though, the minute she had the nipple. She was, obviously, ravenous. I wondered if I was feeding her enough. Gary was going to have to get her back to her mother, who would know. Gracie sighed then, contented, and paused in her sucking, almost like she was saying thank you, keeping her steady gaze on me. I held her against my body and wondered how her mother could stand being away from her even for a day or two.
She fell back asleep in my arms after I’d burped her twice and let her f
inish the bottle. I sat there in the recliner to watch her sleep and listen to her breathe. I thought about the babies that had died inside me, and my one beautiful stillborn boy that I did hold until they took him away from me. I didn’t think I could go on after that, after burying my son, and I saw no reason to, except for what it would inflict on my mother and sister. It’s strange, isn’t it? Then I believed that I would never lift my face to the sun and be purely grateful again—not without a bitter sorrow clouding the light. And yet for days and hours like this I have been.
Louisa slept another good length of time. I couldn’t see the kitchen clock from where I was, but morning had broken when she came into the living room in her nightgown to ask, “Did you make coffee?”
“Shhh.”
“Nothing? You’ve just been sitting there? Why don’t you put her down?” At least she dropped her voice to a stage whisper.
“Tried to, she woke up,” I whispered. An outright lie, but harmless. Saying I damn well didn’t feel like it wasn’t likely to go over well.
“You’ll spoil her. Good thing Gary has to get her today.”
I didn’t answer. And Louisa came over and looked at Gracie, sleeping, and I swear she softened, smiling like she couldn’t help it. “You want some toast?”
“Yes, please,” I said. “Thanks. And coffee.”
Gracie was still sleeping in my arms and I was on my second cup of coffee, thanks to Louisa being nice about it all, when Gary finally called.
“You were supposed to call last night,” was Louisa’s greeting. She knew it was him because he’d had caller ID put on her phone, not realizing that she’d use it more often than not to ignore him. This time, though, she was hot to answer, and picked up on his second ring.
There was a long pause while she listened. She was in the kitchen, so I could hear her side but not see her face. By now, the baby was dead weight in my arms and my legs had gone stiff and numb. I was positive I couldn’t get up without help. Louisa was going to have to take the baby out of my arms and possibly send the six strapping men and the Jaws of Life to get me out of this chair. No way I could get myself in there to get a fix on what was happening.
“How. Much. Longer,” Louisa said, significant time between each word. She didn’t sound happy. And it wasn’t exactly like a question.
“What do you mean you don’t know? Bless your heart, how can you not know?” Now she sounded like she was starting to have smoke coming out of her nose and ears.
“Two more days, then. That’s two. The number after one and before three,” she said finally, and she did not put the receiver down gently. “I’m going to kill him,” she said loudly, I assumed for my benefit. “Two more days. Wait till you hear . . .”
In another three minutes when she didn’t come in, I was crazed. I couldn’t yell for her without waking Gracie, and I couldn’t get up. On top of that, I had to pee. “Louisa!” I gave a loud whisper. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. I heard her moving around and then, a moment later, a door closed. I hoped it wasn’t the bathroom door. Then I heard the shower start.
I was doomed.
After she set a world’s record for longest shower, Louisa finally came out again, dressed. Gracie was stirring on her own, so I didn’t need to be quiet. “I need you to take her, put her in her carrier, and get me out of this chair before I explode,” I said. I might have sounded a little irritable.
“Who peed in your Cheerios?”
“I’m going to pee in more than your Cheerios,” I said, “if you don’t get me out of this chair, which I’m pleased to say is one of yours and not mine.”
“Oh . . .”
She finally took Gracie and hoisted me out of the chair. When I came back, she was cuddling the baby and cooing at her. “So, what’s the deal with Gary?” I said, wanting the baby back but not making a move to take her.
“He says he has a lead on the mother and needs more time. He promises, two more days should do it, and says it’s the right thing to do. You know all the stuff Gary would say. Fill in the blanks.” She shrugged a little, which was difficult, considering she had a baby in her arms.
The sun was mounting the sky and I knew the heat of the day would soon begin outdoors. Louisa wanted to finish picking the beans. “Are you okay with it? I know you were worried—”
“He swears, for whatever that’s worth, that the church is doing this, not that I’m a member of the church, so I’m babysitting is all—and that the law has to be kept out of it for the baby’s sake, that he can get the baby back with her mother and help them both. You know, that would be better. Foster kids, well—”
“I know.”
“She’s a darling,” Louisa said, looking down at Gracie, then back at me.
“She sure is. What do you want me to do?”
“Can you take care of her while I pull the rest of the beans? They’re getting too big as it is. They get tough—”
“Of course,” I said. It was exactly what I wanted. Did she know?
* * *
By the end of the day, Gracie and I were hitting a rhythm and I was catching on to her little signs. I was also pretty tired. Louisa was, too, from the sun and bean picking, but she was glad to sit with Gracie and shake her rattle, talk to her, while I snapped the stem ends off the beans for her. So we were able to spell each other that way, by swapping tasks, and it was a respite. I could see a change in Louisa. Having relented with Gary must have made a difference, because she seemed to settle in to enjoy the baby. Still, though, she worried about being “caught.”
“Well,” I said. “Really, we can plead ignorance, can’t we? I mean, we’re babysitting for Gary, who told us that it’s the daughter of a church member. Nothing illegal about babysitting.”
“Oh.” She chewed on that for a minute. “Hmmm. When it’s put that way, it sounds okay, doesn’t it?”
“Put it that way and leave it that way. Uh-oh. I think I smell a stinky. And she’s on your lap so it’s your turn,” I teased, fully thinking Louisa would hand Gracie over, but she didn’t.
“I do think you’re right,” she said to me, and then nuzzled Gracie and tickled her belly. “Did you make a stinky, Miss Gracie? Did you do that to Auntie Louisa? Well, that wasn’t nice, was it? Let’s go get you changed.” And with that she put Gracie on her shoulder, holding her there two-handed, and got up from the couch with no assist. I wondered if she was remembering protecting Gary as an infant, and Gary’s son, Cody, the same way I remembered folding my baby close in to my own body even the brief time I was given with him, as if our bodies never forget, never ever forget and always long to have our babies back when we can keep them safe.
While she was in using the makeshift changing area I’d set up on my bed, where I’d laid out the baby wipes and diaper cream Gary had thought to buy (I wondered, impressed, how he had thought of so much I’d not put on the paltry list I’d made!), the phone rang in the kitchen. “Get that, will you?” Louisa called. “Could be Gary.”
I checked the caller ID, but it was giving a phone number, not a name. “Not Gary,” I called in.
“Better get it,” she said. “If it’s the Daily Prayer Call and Donation Solicitation, ha ha, your turn, you’re on your own.” Louisa had memorized the phone numbers of all the people on Gary’s God Squad Prayer Team and didn’t answer the phone when they called. She said that when she didn’t answer for a few days, if Gary was really busy, he’d call Gus and ask him to go check on her, which she and Gus both thought was hilarious, since then Gus could put down his napping time with Louisa as an official call in response to a citizen concern about an elderly parent.
“Hello,” I said into the receiver, after I’d turned the kitchen faucet on full blast and leaned over the sink as I answered so I could say the connection was terrible and I just couldn’t make out what was being said.
“Just callin’ my sweetheart.” Gus boomed like a bass drum through the receiver. I jerked away, wondering if my hearing would eventually come back, a
nd then held the receiver three or four inches from my head. “Something wrong with the phone? What’s that noise?”
I turned the water off, and said, “Gus, it’s me, CarolSue. Louisa is . . .” and wouldn’t you know, I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“What?”
“Um . . . in the bathroom.”
“Okay, I can chat with you a minute. How are you liking the Great State of Indiana, as your sister calls it? Of course, she often sticks another word between Great and State and sometimes it’s not a flattering word, as you might know.”
“Oh, I like it fine. You know I grew up here, well, I didn’t leave until fifteen years ago, so . . .” I was frantic that Louisa not come in with the baby, who would pick that instant to cry. “Hang on a minute, Gus, will you?”
“Louisa,” I called. “Just want to let you know, Gus is on the phone for you.”
“Tell him I’ll call him back,” she yelled. Adamant.
“She says she’ll call you back.”
“I was going to drop by anyway—”
“She’s really tired.”
“I won’t stay long.”
“She’s awfully tired, Gus. Worked all day out harvesting beans, you know. Just exhausted. Said she wanted a light supper and to rest up tonight. Maybe—”
