At the Corner of King Street (29 page)

“But not Mom's nose. Not mine.”

“No.”

He grinned, clearly glad he shared something special with his mother. “That's okay. She looks like Mom more than me.”

Zeb cleared his throat. “Janet, where're you staying?”

“With a friend.” She brushed her fingers against Eric's cheek.

“Are you staying in town?” The question was soft, conversational, with no hints of the fear and worry I knew raced through his mind. Janet had turned his life upside down once before, and he weathered the storm. But he and I knew we all swirled gently in the eye of the hurricane and it was only a matter of time before the winds picked up and blew faster and faster until they reached a crushing strength. Zeb and I could ride out her next storm, but Eric and Carrie would be swept away by it.

“I don't know.” She smiled at Eric. “I've missed my boy.”

Zeb's jaw tightened as he slid his hands into his pockets. “How did you get here?”

“I took a cab.”

“Eric and I can give you a ride. No sense you spending your money.”

Her fingers stilled as she brushed Eric's bangs back. She didn't like
being told what to do. We all knew that. But her pale, gaunt features and the tremor in her hands told us both she was tired. Rest was critical for her now. Sleep allowed her brain and body to heal. We'd avoided the problem of Janet for the last couple of weeks, but she was here now and wasn't going away anytime soon.

I smoothed my hand over the top of Carrie's head. “Go get some sleep, Janet,” I said. “No one is going anywhere, and you do need to sleep.”

She turned toward me. The apology that lingered behind her eyes when she arrived had vanished. “Sure, but I'm coming back.”

“I know.”

She hugged Eric close. “I love my kids.”

“No one doubts that,” I said. What we doubted was her ability to care for the children.

Zeb rattled the keys in his pocket. “I'm parked out front.”

“Always so organized,” Janet said. “Always.”

She walked toward me and leaned down and kissed the baby. I didn't tense, reach out, and touch Janet or offer her a hug. I was too scared. Too worried that she'd take my baby away.

Eric took Janet by the hand. “Come on, Mom. You can see our car.”

She kept smiling. “I can't wait, baby.”

“I'm not a baby, Mom.”

She rustled the top of his hair with her delicate fingers. “You'll always be my baby.”

Eric giggled.

Zeb looked at me. “You have everything you need?”

“I'm fine.”

Janet shook her head. “She's like you, Zeb. She's always had her act together. I'm the one that's broken.”

Eric squeezed her hand tighter. “You're not broken, Mom. “You're perfect.”

“Thanks, baby.”

I followed the sound of their footsteps down the stairs and listened as Zeb closed the main door and locked it behind him.

Just Carrie and me. Alone. The tears caught in my throat loosened and within seconds fell down my cheeks.

*   *   *

When Scott called an hour later, I was sitting in the living room with a glass of wine in my hands. Carrie had fallen into a heavy sleep, but my nerves were wired so tightly I wasn't sure if I would ever sleep again.

“Scott.” I nestled close to the phone, needing him.
Tell me it's going to be all right. Tell me we are fine.

“You sound tired.”

“It's been a long day. Crazy.”

“I saw the e-mails you copied me on. You're staying on top of the business. I don't know how you do it.”

That rattled an unsteady laugh. “Neither do I.”

“I don't know what I'd do without you.” He lowered his voice and hesitated, knowing he entered dangerous territory. “How's the baby?”

“She's fine.” I held the wineglass up to the light, turning it and watching the wine slide down the inside of the glass. When the wine dripped like this, experts called this tears. “Janet is out of the hospital. She came by today.”

“That's a good thing, right?”

When she was in the hospital, we were all assured a little normalcy. Now, it was anybody's guess. “It should be.”

“What's that mean?”

He didn't understand the disease or the curse. Both never fully relinquished control of our lives. “Time will tell. I'm hoping she can hold on to this.”

“She saw the baby?”

“Yes.” I pictured Janet holding Carrie. Fear circled but I chased it away.

“You don't sound happy,” he said.

“I want the best for the baby.”

“Isn't being with her mother the best thing for her?”

Carrie had settled easily into Janet's arms. She hadn't cried. She cooed. “If Janet is healthy.”

“You just said she was doing well.”

“For now.”

“You sound like you don't want to give the baby back to Janet,” he said.

“Honestly, I don't.” The words rushed out before I could wrestle them back.

“Addie, we've talked about this.”

“Have we, Scott? You said you didn't want a baby now. I, like always, agreed.”

“Like always? What does that mean?”

Frustration scraped and scratched under my skin. I went along, very willingly, with everything Scott wanted up until this moment. He knew what he wanted, and it was easy, exciting even, to follow a dreamer with a plan. I rose and walked into the kitchen and stared out the window toward the busy street below. “I'm not blaming you.”

“You're still not explaining yourself.” His tone turned crisp, sharp, as it did in the wake of a hailstorm at the vineyard.

I traced my fingers in circles on the counter. Round and round and yet going nowhere. “Janet may think she can care for Carrie alone, but she can't. She's going to need help.”

“That's what Social Services is for, Addie.”

“No, Scott, it's my job to keep the Shire family on track. I've done it since I could barely walk.”

“Then why did you move down here? You haven't seen your family in seven years.”

“Time doesn't seem to matter. I'm here, and I'm needed.”

“What if Janet doesn't want your help? You're making a big assumption.”

My voice sharpened to a knife's edge, freshly honed on a whetstone. “I know. But I will be there for the baby's sake.”

A frustrated sigh leaked through what I imagined were clenched teeth. “So you're just not coming back.”

And there it was—the choice—stripped bare for us both to see. Scott or the baby. “I was hoping we could figure this out together. I thought we were a team.”

“We're a team. But getting between a mother and child is huge. It's also not smart or very legal.”

“She's sick.” Janet's time in the hospital did not mean she was fixed. She'd never really be fixed.

“Did she act sick when you saw her?”

Frustration rose up within me. “She seemed fragile.”

“Was she acting crazy?”

“No.” Not yet. Not now.

“Give her a chance.”

His arguments all made good sense, and any smart lawyer could conceivably convince a judge that I was overstepping. But I knew it would end badly. “I can't trust that Janet and the baby will be fine. I can't watch her drive out of Alexandria with my fingers crossed and hope.”

“You've been the caregiver in that family for all your life. You just
admitted that. Maybe you don't know how to be around the family unless you're running the show.”

“Do you think this is something I wanted? I thought we had a pretty good thing.”

“I thought we did, too. I also thought we were on the no-kid plan. We've always said kids were a very, very distant idea.”

My grip on the phone tightened. “I didn't create this problem.”

“And you don't have to solve it either. Carrie is Janet's child.”

“Janet is sick.”

“You haven't given her a chance.” After a long pause, he said more softly, “Addie, I love you. I love the life we have. The life we had.”

I closed my eyes, wishing for a clear solution. But left or right, up or down, in or out, someone was going to lose this battle. The baby's fussing would grow louder and louder until she got her bottle. “I love you, too, Scott. But I have to go.”

“This is not over. We have to talk this through.”

“Sure.” Talking wouldn't change the choice. “We need to talk again.”

“I love you.”

I hung up the phone and leaned against the counter as the baby's cries magnified. Scott and I could talk all we wanted. We could examine the pros and cons. And, in the end, a choice would have to be made.

And someone would lose.

There was an accident at the tobacco warehouse today. A stack of hogsheads toppled on Ben Talbot. Dr. Goodwin was summoned but he pronounced the man dead. Faith came running to the warehouse screaming when she heard the news about her husband.

W
hen the front bell rang the next morning, my first reaction was annoyance. The baby was taking her morning nap, which meant ninety minutes of silence to upload the pictures I took of the salvaged items from the Prince Street basement and get them listed in our new online eBay store.

When the bell buzzed a second time, my thoughts skittered to Janet. She had great timing. When I needed something, so did she. Time, Carrie, none of it mattered. Janet simply took.

Rising, I moved quietly down the stairs, summoning more reasons why the baby needed to stay with me.

Standing on the stoop was a tall, lean man dressed in a charcoal gray suit. His hair was cut neat and crisp around his angled face. He wore dark sunglasses and carried a slim briefcase.

“Can I help you?”

He studied me closely. “I'm looking for Addie Morgan.”

“I'm Addie Morgan.”

He reached in a coat pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. Raised letters and a linen stock told me he cost big money. Harold S. Gray, Attorney-at-Law.

“Mr. Gray.” I hesitated, doing my best to sound calm. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm representing your sister.”

I flicked the edge of the card with my index finger. “In what matter?”

“Is there a more private place we can talk?”

I lifted my chin. I was tired of secrets. Of hiding. “Here is fine. Why are you here?”

He drew in a breath. “Janet Morgan is concerned that you may contest her custody of her infant daughter.”

Anger stabbed and prodded, but I kept my tone even. “She told you that?”

“Yes.”

I held his card so tightly the fine white linen paper creased. “She certainly works fast.”

“She wants you to understand that once she has a place to stay, she'll be taking the baby.”

“Really?” The baby/job juggling act was driving me insane. What was Janet going to do when she picked up a waitress job?

“There's a meeting scheduled tomorrow with Social Services at nine o'clock in the morning. The department will be ruling on the child's custody.”

My fingers crushed the attorney's card. “Doesn't sound like I have a choice.”

“No.”

He turned and left, leaving me to stand at the shop entrance, my head a little dizzy with anger. “So I'm supposed to turn the baby over to her?”

He stopped and faced me. “You will be required to follow the ruling of the department.”

“And what if I don't like the ruling?”

He pulled Ray-Bans from his breast pocket. “I suggest you get an attorney.”

“How the hell am I supposed to afford a guy like you?” My voice rose high and sharp. “And how the hell is Janet affording you?”

He slid on the glasses. “That is not your concern.”

“Are you going to be around in five months when Janet can't hack it anymore, and she and the baby are in crisis? Are you going to drive across the country when she calls to bail her out of more trouble?”

“I can't predict the future, Ms. Morgan. I can only deal with the issue at hand.”

“Meaning you don't give a shit what happens to the baby! Or Janet for that matter. She can't handle the stress right now.” Years of pent-up anger rolled free now.

“Have you ever considered that maybe you underestimate your sister.”

Disgust rose up in my throat. “Spoken like a man who's never traveled this path before.” I slammed the door, the bang of wood against wood echoing in the warehouse.

*   *   *

Calling Zeb for help was not easy for me. We'd forged a tentative alliance. I understood he was simply looking out for Eric and the boy's relationship with his mother's family, but I needed an ally. Though I considered calling Scott, in the end, I didn't bother. He was always so very clear about what he wanted. He never wavered. Never changed course. How could I blame him? It was me who'd changed course.

I dialed Zeb's number. As my stomach knotted, my finger hovered
over the Send button, and I paced the floor. Drawing in a breath, I pressed the button. The phone rang once and then twice before he picked it up.

“Addie. Is everything all right?”

“Not really. Janet wants Carrie.”

A long heavy silence cut across the airways. “She said that?”

“She not only said that, but she's hired an attorney to represent her. There's going to be a hearing in the morning at Social Services.”

He sighed. “How can she afford a lawyer?”

“She can't. But she knows so many people, and she can be so damn charming. She's convinced this guy to help her, and I bet he doesn't get paid a dime.”

“Their arrangement isn't really the problem. He's on her side and helping her. Look, if you need to hire an attorney, I know they're expensive, but I've some money.”

Sudden hot tears stung my eyes. “No. I don't want your money, but if you could show up at Social Services tomorrow at nine
A.M
. and talk to the social worker, maybe you could convince her to give this situation more time.”

“How much more time, Addie? Are you willing to raise the baby?”

The question had buzzed in my head for days, but when Janet showed up yesterday, the buzzing grew so loud it blocked out almost all other thought. Breathe deep. Let it go. “Yes.”

Silence snapped. “What about Scott?”

“He doesn't want to be a part of Carrie's life.”

“So he's not going to man up and help?”

“It's not his fault. I changed the rules. And now I have to figure out what's next. But I can't worry about next if the social worker gives the baby to Janet.”

“Okay, I'll be at the hearing.”

“I don't want to cut Janet out of Carrie's life, but I see a train wreck coming if she rushes into mothering and working.”

“I know.”

“Thanks, Zeb.”

“Sure.”

I hung up and the hot tears burning the back of my eyes spilled down my cheeks. A couple of weeks ago when I buried the witch bottle, I asked to feel normal, but my life was so far from normal now.

*   *   *

The next morning I dressed Carrie in a light blue onesie that belonged to Daisy's son and was one of the nicest garments in the bag of clothes. Light blue, I reasoned, was also suited for a girl as well as a boy.

I rummaged through my clothes, but found only jeans, which would not have worked for this hearing. With no time to shop, I called Margaret and asked if she owned a skirt. A half hour later, she arrived with a pink paisley A-line skirt and a white blouse. Both had a peasant feel to them, and I debated if they looked more “motherly” than a clean pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. In the end, I chose the skirt, top, and a pair of tan sandals.

Grace came out of her room dressed in a simple pair of cotton pants and a white top. She brushed back her gray hair and tied it back into a ponytail at the base of her head. She looked as pulled together as I could remember.

I loaded Carrie into her car seat and slung the baby bag on my shoulder. I was hoping the social worker would see my side, but I knew life never went as planned, so I packed extra clothes and diapers in the bag in case the baby left the building with Janet.

Grace followed Carrie and me outside and as Grace settled in the front seat, I hooked Carrie's seat into the backseat. We made the trip in
silence and because the morning commuter traffic had cleared, the journey took less than ten minutes. I parked the car in front, fed the meter, and pulled the baby and bag out of the backseat as Grace closed her front door.

The receptionist was expecting us, and even mentioned that Ms. Morgan had arrived. That prompted a raised brow from Grace. “First time she's ever been on time.”

We rode the elevator to the second floor and were directed to a conference room. When I knocked, the door edged open, and I saw Janet and her attorney sitting across the table. Janet looked lovely. Her hair freshly washed, she wore a navy blue pullover dress that hugged slim curves. Bracelets rattled from her wrists and her eyes sparked with a nervous excitement that would be hard to resist.

She looked up at Grace and me, and oddly, the smile did not dim. She rose and came around the table and hugged me. “Addie, I want to thank you for everything you've done for Carrie and me. I don't know where we would be without you.”

“You're making a mistake,” I whispered in her ear. “Don't do this.”

She smiled at the baby. “Why don't you have any confidence in me? Why do you think I'm always going to screw up? This time is going to be different.”

“I wish that were true.”

Ms. Willis entered the room, along with another woman who was tall and full figured. She wore a blue suit and white blouse with blond hair around her shoulders. “Ladies, if you will sit we can begin.”

I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to see Zeb, and when I didn't, my heart dropped..

“Shall we?”

I sat and set the car seat on the table. Janet sat next to me and turned the seat so she could see Carrie. She jostled the baby's socked feet and tickled her under the chin. Carrie grinned and kicked.

I sat and tried to calm racing thoughts. I needed to sound clear and thoughtful. “Yes.”

“I am Mrs. Hudson,” said the other woman as she opened her file and reviewed the case. “As I understand it, Ms. Janet Morgan, after having spent the last thirty days in a mental hospital, is now stable and would like to take custody of the minor child, Carrie Morgan.”

Janet smiled, but it was her attorney who spoke.

He leaned forward in his chair, his gold cufflinks winking in the light. “That is correct.”

“Who are you?”

“I'm Harold S. Gray, attorney-at-law. I'm here on Ms. Janet Morgan's behalf.”

Mrs. Hudson studied the lawyer and Janet before her gaze shifted to me. “You must be Ms. Addie Morgan?”

I straightened my shoulders. “That is correct. I'm Janet's sister and Carrie's aunt.”

“It's my understanding that you did not want the child at first. According to Ms. Willis, you asked her to find a foster home.”

“That is correct.” I shifted forward in my seat. “News of the baby's birth was a big surprise to me. It took some adjusting.”

“And now you want to keep the child?”

“Janet needs time to get on her own two feet. I have no doubt that she loves the baby, but raising a baby, I've discovered, is very stressful. It has always been my experience that Janet doesn't handle stress well.”

“I don't think it's fair to talk about the past,” her attorney said. “This is about now. My client has already gotten a room in a friend's house and she's looking for a job.”

“Who's going to take care of the baby while you work, Ms. Morgan?”

“My friends have offered to help.”

The door behind me opened and closed, and I turned to see Zeb. He wore a crisp white shirt, a red tie, and khaki pants.

Janet shifted in her seat. “What's he doing here?”

Mrs. Hudson looked at Zeb. “And who are you?”

“I'm Zeb Talbot.” His voice was clear and sharp. The cavalry had arrived. “I was married to Janet Morgan for three years, and we have a seven-year-old son together. I have custody of the boy.”

Janet shook her head. “This is not fair. I'm different than I was then.”

Mrs. Hudson held up her hand. “Mr. Talbot, how is it you came to have sole custody?”

His expression was stoic, his voice even as if he were giving a report to a superior. “Janet left when our boy was four months old. The stress of mothering was too much.”

“That is a biased opinion,” the attorney said, rising. “That was seven years ago and does not take into consideration the stresses and strains of their marriage. This matter is completely separate.”

Mrs. Hudson wrote several notes in her file. “Ms. Willis, what is your opinion?”

“I've met with Janet Morgan several times in the last month, and I've seen tremendous improvement. She is willing and anxious to take custody of her baby. I've seen where she's living, and it's suitable, as are her roommates. I think Addie Morgan has done a tremendous job with the baby, but Janet Morgan should be given the opportunity to parent.”

“If I may speak,” I said.

Mrs. Hudson nodded and I continued. “I believe Janet is sincere. I know she loves the baby, but she has the same illness that our mother had, and even Janet will admit, we did not have a stable upbringing.”

The attorney shook his head. “Medications and treatment options have advanced radically in the last twenty years. That is not a fair comparison. The past is not a predictor of the future.”

Zeb shifted his stance, the tension rolling off of him. “I disagree. I have been down this road with Janet. She is not ready.”

Janet glared at Zeb.

Sadness and loss washed over me. The voices around me swirled and grew distant and far off. I knew before Mrs. Hudson spoke I'd lose. When she finally ruled, she ordered that Janet be given custody of the baby with supervised visits from Ms. Willis.