Caught Redhanded (19 page)

I looked at the baby flailing in Dawn’s lap. I was supposed to assume care of this child? Me? “I can’t take over care of a baby just like that! I’m getting married in a week. Besides, I don’t know anything about babies.”

Maddie hurried in with the cotton blanket. Dawn lifted the baby, laid the blanket on her lap, then set the baby on it. With a minimum of fuss, she wrapped the baby snugly in the blanket, little legs bent against her tiny body, delicate arms bent across chest. When Dawn was finished, the baby looked like a papoose. Dawn picked her up and cradled her next to her heart.

I glanced at Mac to see how he took Dawn’s maternal actions and caught the most infatuated look I think I’ve ever seen.

“That’s pretty much how they wrap the babies in the hospital,” Dawn said. “The babies have been curled up in utero and too much body freedom is disconcerting to them.”

“Elise,” I said. “She’s a little girl.”

“Look what else was on the porch.” Doug walked into the room with a large grocery bag in his arms. I hadn’t even realized he’d left. He set the bag on the coffee table and began to unload it. He pulled out a small collection of baby products—two bottles, several cans of formula, baby powder, skin cream, a pacifier, a lovely soft green hand-knit sweater and a box of newborn disposable diapers.

Elise began her weak cry again.

“She’s probably hungry,” Dawn said. “When I’m with the kids in the hospital, they often bring the babies to nurse only a short time after birth.”

“I’ll get a bottle ready,” Maddie said.

I looked at Dawn holding the baby so competently and at Maddie off to get a bottle ready. “She actually wants me, the least competent, to take care of this little one?”

“You can’t, you know,” Mac said. “There are all kinds of legal and even criminal issues here.”

I nodded. “I know. I was just thinking that the mom wasn’t thinking.”

“I’d assume it’s some young girl who is scared to death and has been for months,” Dawn said.

I nodded. “She’s kept her pregnancy a secret, hasn’t she?”

“Probably.”

“We’ve got to call the police,” Mac said, reaching out a finger and tracing Elise’s downy head. She had hair so fair she looked bald.

Dawn smiled at Mac and held Elise to him. Without a second thought, he took her.

“Marco Antonio Carnuccio, you are a wonder,” she said, leaning against him.

“No wonder about it. A large family with lots of nieces and nephews,” he said, smiling at Dawn, then Elise.

“And you’re everyone’s favorite uncle,” I said, enjoying the tender side of Mac that he never showed in the newsroom.

He shrugged, which told me I was right.

“She really needs to go to the hospital,” Maddie said as she handed Elise’s bottle to Mac. “When Holly was born, they checked her over so carefully. I bet this little one hasn’t had any medical attention at all.”

“Why don’t we call the police and tell them to meet us at the hospital?” Curt suggested. “That’ll save some time.”

Doug nodded and picked up the phone.

“Don’t, Doug,” I said, putting a hand on his arm. “Don’t call the cops.”

“Merry.” Curt took me by the shoulders. “Sweetheart.” He looked so serious. “You—we can’t keep this baby.”

I put my hands on his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I know. It’s just that I don’t want the mom to have to deal with all the legal ramifications of abandoning her baby. I think we can avoid that whole mess for her.”

He looked at me for a minute. “You know whose baby this is.”

“I do.”

“And you just want to give her back?”

“I do.”

“But she wanted to throw her away. How can you trust Elise to her?”

“She didn’t want to throw her away. Look at all the trouble she went to to prepare for her arrival.” I indicated the supplies on the coffee table. I picked up the little green sweater and the yellow blanket. “She knit these for Elise. She named her. She cared and cared deeply.”

“Then why didn’t she keep her?”

“I don’t know all those answers, though I can guess at some. Shame. Fear.”

“Fear of what?” Curt asked. “Of her parents? Would we be sending this baby back into a home situation that would be intolerable?”

“We could adopt her,” Maddie said, her eyes hungry as she looked at Elise. “We adopted Holly. A sister for her would be wonderful.”

“Maddie!” Doug looked flabbergasted at the idea. “Holly’s only six months old.”

Maddie shrugged. “If people can do twins and triplets, we can do two babies close in age. Besides, it would be a couple of months before she’d be released by children’s services, anyway.”

“Which is all moot,” I said. “Elise was left to me to take care of and I say we take her back to her mother. That girl can’t go through life with the guilt of abandoning her baby weighing her down.”

Curt studied me. “You know the parents, right?”

I nodded.

“And you trust them to be there for her?”

“I do.”

“In that case, I agree with taking her back. I think she needs to be held accountable. She may choose to keep Elise or give her up for adoption—and we’ll suggest you be first in line if that’s her choice, Maddie—but she needs to face what has happened and make a deliberate and wholesome choice from strength, not fear. Trying to ignore unpleasant things, hard things, doesn’t work. I learned that with my sister. If we’d stepped up for Joan instead of not wanting to believe the unbearable, she might still be alive.” He began loading the baby supplies back into the paper bag.

Mac had Elise on his shoulder, one large hand firmly spread along her small spine, supporting her from head to bottom, the other gently making circles. She gave a very unladylike, thoroughly wonderful burp. With a laugh I reached for her.

It felt like she weighed nothing as I snuggled her against me. Curt and I started for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Doug said and we turned to him. “Let’s pray about this.”

We gathered in a circle holding hands except for my left hand in which I held Elise. Curt looped his right arm around my shoulders so the circle was unbroken. I was grateful for Doug’s suggestion of prayer and took great comfort in seeking God’s help and wisdom.

“Oh, Father, there’s a terrified girl out there, heart-sick and lonely,” he said. “Be with her. May she turn to You for comfort. Be with Merry and Curt as they take Elise home. May she be accepted with love and may all wrong and hurtful actions be forgiven as Christ has forgiven us.”

We drove across town in silence, Elise asleep in my arms. I felt remarkably calm considering the circumstances, but I was convinced that keeping Elise and her mother out of the legal system would benefit both of them.

Oh, Lord, if I’m wrong, if I’m missing something, please show me quickly.

When we turned the corner near our destination, we saw an ambulance, lights flashing, pulled up in front of a house.

“Is that where we’re going?” Curt asked.

“It is,” I said, not surprised that a new mother with no medical help, skulking about town, would end up needing emergency care. A pair of EMTs exited the house with a gurney between them. A third EMT followed, carrying equipment. Behind him came three very scared people. It was evident in their body language and their faces.

I climbed out of the car and hurried forward. I arrived at the ambulance just as the EMTs did. They looked at me, telling me without words to get out of their way. I ignored them and moved closer.

“Hello,” I said softly to the sobbing girl on the gurney.

“Merry!” She was clearly startled to see me. Then I saw hope take root as she saw the bundle in my arms. “Is that—”

“It is,” I said. I felt the rest of her family move up behind me. “She needs to go to the hospital for a good checkup. Why doesn’t she ride with you.”

I leaned forward and laid Elise in her mother’s arms.

I heard a woman’s voice say, “I knew it. Oh, honey, you should have told us!”

I kissed mother and child on their foreheads. “Love her, Bailey, but do it right, okay? She deserves that much.”

Then Curt and I walked away hand in hand.

TWENTY-THREE

S
unday afternoon Curt and I went to the hospital and took the elevator up to maternity. I carried a large gift bag full of sleepers in ever increasing sizes from 0–3 months to 24 months, all in girlie colors and with girlie things embroidered on them. My favorite was a pretty pink 6–9 month one with a pointed collar like a jester’s, each point with a rose pom-pom on the end. My hope was that it would make Bailey laugh because I imagined she’d been crying for a long time.

My stomach jumped with nerves as we approached Bailey’s door. What if she was furious with me for bringing Elise back? I knew that her secret would have come out the moment a doctor saw her in the emergency room and the revelation had been only minutes away when we arrived at the Mercers’ and saw her being loaded into the ambulance.

Over and over through the night I’d reviewed what we’d done. Time and again I knew I’d make the same choice if I had it to do over again. If I hadn’t known who the mother was, if I hadn’t known the caliber of the family, things would have been different. I’d have called the police and turned the baby over to protective services.

But I’d known who the mother was and I knew her heart would weep forever over the choice she’d thought she wanted to make. I believe in adoption; I’ve seen the joy Holly brings Maddie and Doug. But Karyn, Holly’s mother, had chosen from strength, not desperation. She’d acted responsibly, not clandestinely or illegally.

And then there was the expression of joy and relief on Bailey’s face when I’d placed Elise in her arms.

We stood outside Bailey’s door and my throat so ached with anxiety that I could barely swallow. I looked at Curt and he smiled encouragement.

“I wish this was next Sunday,” I said. “We’d be in our cabin in Olympic National Park watching the Pacific roll in.”

He eyed me with his version of a leer. He wasn’t very good at it, but I appreciated the attempt. “Well, that’s where we’ll be, but are you sure that’s what we’ll be doing?”

“Curt!” I slugged him softly, then started to giggle. Suddenly I felt a lot better.

“Now go on.” He gave me a gentle push. “I’ll be waiting for you out here.”

Bailry lay in bed with her eyes closed. A vase full of flowers sat on her windowsill and a bouquet of congratulatory balloons was tied to the foot of her bed. I was impressed and pleased at how fast someone had responded to her situation. No matter how bad the circumstances, a first baby is a first baby and deserves to be celebrated. I’d learned that from Dawn and the girls at His House.

On the far side of the bed was a warming crib and in it lay Elise, sleeping soundly. I tiptoed over and stared down at her. Her fuzzy blond hair was covered with a tiny pink cotton knit cap and she was wrapped papoose style in a pink cotton blanket.

I reached out a finger and ran it down her soft cheek.

Lord, her beginnings have been rocky, but I ask You to make of her a woman with a heart for God. And help Bailey figure out where things go from here.

“Hi,” said a weak voice laced with uncertainty.

I looked at Bailey and smiled. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she?”

Bailey looked at her daughter and tears filled her eyes. All she could do was nod.

I walked around the bed and took the recliner pulled close. The hospital had designed the maternity parlor with a couple in mind and the chair I took was for the new dad so he could spend the night with his wife and new child.

No new dad smiled proudly here. How sad.

“How are you doing?” I asked. “Are they taking good care of you?”

She looked awful, pale, weary, sad. Her hair was pulled back and held loosely in a rubber band that allowed it to be pulled over her shoulder so she could lie back in comfort. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her nose was red.

I took the hand that was near me, the one with no IVs. She grabbed and held on so hard it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, trying to be quiet because of the sleeping baby. “I’m sorry! Oh, God, I’m sorry!”

The last was a prayer from a broken heart.

I moved to the edge of the bed and pushed loose hair back from her wet face, my heart breaking for her. Sure, she’d created the mess she was in, but that didn’t prevent me from feeling her misery. It didn’t stop me from wishing I could make it better even though I knew I couldn’t.

“Shh, honey, don’t cry,” I said. “Somehow it’ll all get straightened out.”

“Will it?” She groped for the tissue box on her night table. I got it and held it to her. She grabbed a fistful and mopped at her streaming face, a futile effort given the intensity of her sobs. “I don’t know how I ever got in this mess. I mean, I know, but I can’t believe it. And she’s so wonderful!” She looked at her daughter as her breath came in quick jerks and her nose ran.

“Can I hold her?” I asked, more to give Bailey time to regain control than anything else.

She nodded as she buried her face in the tissues. I suspected that she was thinking, as I was, that she had wanted me to hold her for life.

I lifted the infant out of her crib and sat back in the recliner with her cradled near my heart.

Bailey gave a long, wobbly sigh. “Sorry. I’m bound to run out of tears sometime soon. Dehydration is just around the corner.” She gave a little sad smile.

“It’s all right. You have every right to cry. Life is very complicated right now.”

She gave a harsh little laugh. “Complicated. That’s a nice way of putting it. I’d say it’s ruined. My life, Elise’s life, my parents’ lives.”

“I don’t see how Elise ruins your parents’ lives. Complicates them, sure, but ruins?”

“Makes them grandparents about ten years too soon. Puts pressure and responsibility on them they shouldn’t have. Makes them ashamed of me instead of proud.” Her voice caught on the last word; it was just a whisper.

“You don’t think your parents love you enough to be there for you and Elise?”

“Of course they love me. They’re wonderful. But they have to look good to people so that Good Hands can be successful.”