Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 02 - Papoosed (7 page)

Chapter Seven

“It takes a village to raise a child.”

–Author Unknown

            Essie quickly rushed to her bathroom and moved to the bathtub where baby Antonio was screaming loudly.  She hoped the walls of the small room would act as insulation of the sound or that her neighbor Clara was already at breakfast and couldn’t hear the very loud noise.  Clara was a busybody and would definitely complain to her or–worse–to the staff if she thought that Essie had a baby in her apartment.  Essie bent over and lifted the infant from the tub.   Her arthritis in her back ached as she tried to stand carrying the added weight.  She placed Antonio over her shoulder and gently patted his back as she softly bounced him up and down.  Almost immediately a loud burp emitted from the baby’s mouth and he quieted noticeably.  Essie placed him in the walker basket and wheeled him back into her bedroom.  She sat on the edge of her bed and pondered what to do next.

            She needed to go to breakfast, if for no other reason than to find Santos and discover what he’d found out about Antonio’s mother.  Had Maria returned?  Did he know where she was?  Essie knew she couldn’t continue to keep the infant in her room for long.  Should she take the baby with her and head to the dining hall?  Or should she remain here and hope that Santos or one of her friends would come to her and let her know what was happening?  Essie was exhausted.  She had gotten even less sleep than she usually did.  Worry over the baby had kept her up most of the night.

            “Let’s go!” she said finally to her little charge and she rose from her bed and gently tucked his arms into the basket and then cautiously lowered the lid.  Moving with determination, she headed for her front door.  As she opened the door and started to move her walker into the hallway, she was confronted by Opal, Marjorie, and Fay who motioned for her to return inside.

            “Good morning, Essie,” announced Opal, as the three women entered the apartment.  Marjorie closed the door behind them. “We’re here to cover for you.”

            “We’re your back-up,” added Marjorie.  Fay had already lifted the seat on Essie’s walker and had removed Antonio and was cradling him in her arms.  She pressed her wheelchair’s automatic button and her device whizzed her over to the window.  Fay held Antonio up to the sparkling morning sunlight streaming into Essie’s front window.  The little boy giggled and cooed and tried to grab Fay’s chin.  Fay smiled and rubbed her face in the baby’s tummy and they both laughed.

            “Go to breakfast, Essie,” ordered Opal, as she and Marjorie began moving around Essie’s apartment.  Opal headed to the kitchen and began preparing a new glove of formula.  “I brought some reinforcements!” she announced as she opened the basket on her walker and removed several cans.  “It’s not
Vigor
, only a generic, but it should do.  My son tried to get me to drink this horrible gunk too.  These cans have been sitting above my sink for years.  I think they’re still good.”

            “That stuff could withstand a nuclear bomb!” called out Marjorie from the bathroom as she entered back into Essie’s living room.  “Essie, I’ve stacked up several more boxes of
Reliables
on your sink.  I had some myself.”  Marjorie moved over and sat next to Fay and began gushing over the baby.  “Oh, Fay, look, his little t-shirt is getting dirty!  He needs something to wear besides just paper diapers and this old thing.” 

            “Nell’s bells, Marjorie!” cried Essie.  “Outfitting this child is the least of our worries!  Let’s save infant fashion for another day and concentrate on the problem at hand!”

            “Yes, let’s!” agreed Opal still working efficiently at Essie’s kitchen sink.  “And the first problem is for you, Essie, to go to breakfast!  We’ve all three eaten and we’ll watch Antonio!”

            “And besides, Santos told us he needs to speak to you!” added Marjorie.

            “Why didn’t you tell me that first?” demanded Essie.  “Did he find Maria?  What did he say about Antonio?”

            “Essie,” said Opal calmly.  “He didn’t say anything to us.  He doesn’t know that we know anything about the baby, remember?  He merely asked us where you were.  He just said he really needs to talk to you.  We told him we would check on you and have you go straight to breakfast when we did.  So, go!”

            “Yes, go, Essie!” added Marjorie, extending a pointed finger towards the door.  Opal gave Essie a “scoot” gesture and Fay smiled sweetly.  Essie gave a sigh, turned tail, and headed out of her apartment. 

            She hated to leave the baby alone.  Not that she didn’t trust her three friends, but she felt uncomfortable leaving anyone in her place with the baby.  Anything could happen.  If the baby started crying and her friends couldn’t calm him, she would be in trouble with the Happy Haven administration.  She might even be evicted.  Possibly.  She wasn’t sure.  Violet didn’t like her as it was.  She was suspicious of Essie and watched her every movement.   Even so, Essie was hungry and she needed to eat.  She rolled her walker–now baby-free–into the dining hall and sat alone at her regular table.

            Within a few seconds, Santos appeared beside her.

            “Miss Essie,” he said in a relieved voice.  “I am so happy to see you.  When you are not here for breakfast with other ladies, I am very worried.”  He bent over and whispered in Essie’s ear.  “Is baby okay, Miss Essie?”

            Essie turned and patted Santos on the arm.  She could see the worry in his eyes.  “He’s fine, Santos.  Opal, Marjorie, and Fay are taking good care of him now.”

            “You tell other ladies about Antonio, Miss Essie?” he asked, his face wrinkling in despair.

            “Don’t worry, Santos,” replied Essie.  “They are good people.  They love babies.  I told them about Maria and they will protect her secret–just like I will.”  She smiled gently again at the young man who appeared petrified that the child’s existence might become public knowledge.

            “I hope this is so, Miss Essie,” said Santos.  “Miss Marjorie and Miss Opal and Miss Fay are very nice ladies.  You sure they not tell Miss Violet?  I am very scared Miss Violet find out and take baby Antonio from Maria.”

            “We’re trying very hard not to let anyone else find out about the baby, Santos,” she replied in a whisper, patting his sleeve.  “But, Santos, more important.  What about Maria?  Have you heard from her?”

            Santos sighed deeply and stood up.  He rubbed his hands over his face in a gesture of despair.  “No, Miss Essie,” he cried softly.  “I hear nothing from Maria.  I do not know where Maria is.  I am very worried.”

            “This is not good,” said Essie, shaking her head.  “You know this woman, Santos.  Do you think she has abandoned her baby?  I mean, maybe all of this was just too much for her.  Maybe she was so frightened of her husband and it was simply too hard to hide from him with a newborn infant.  Maybe she’s counting on you to protect the baby while she hides from her abusive mate.”

            “I do not think so, Miss Essie,” continued Santos, speaking quietly as he pretended to collect dishes from the table.  “Maria, she loves the baby!  She  does not come back for baby–this is very bad sign!  I am afraid something bad happened to Maria.”

            “You mean, you think Gerald, her husband caught up with her and forced her to return to him?” asked Essie.  “Do you think Gerald would seriously hurt Maria if she tried to leave him?”

            “
Si
, I do, Miss Essie,” replied Santos, stopping in his dish collecting and clutching a pile of dirty plates to his chest.  His face was a portrait of pain.

            “There must be some way to find out,” said Essie.  “The four of us–the four of us who sit at this table–we will try to take care of Antonio as long as we can, Santos, but this facility is not designed for infants, and eventually someone will discover that we have a newborn child in my apartment.  And once that happens, I won’t be able to keep the baby’s presence a secret.”

            “Miss Essie,” said Santos, his eyes sad and drooping, “please just watch Antonio a little bit longer.  I will try to find Maria.”  He stood taller, his chin lifted.

            “Tell me what you plan to do, Santos,” said Essie.  “Is there anything we can do to help track her down?  Maybe call some of her relatives or friends?”

            “I cannot do that, Miss Essie,” said Santos, “I do not know Maria’s friends or relatives. They are all in Mexico.  I am very sorry.”

            “Santos,” said Essie after contemplating this information, grabbing his shirt as the young man turned to the kitchen.  “What is Maria’s last name?”

            “Compton,” he said.  “Maria Valdez Compton.  She marry that Gerald Compton, the
cabr
ó
n
!” He ground his teeth and clenched his fists.

            “And Gerald Compton works here in Reardon?” asked Essie, ignoring the young waiter’s epithet.

            “Si, Miss Essie,” replied Santos, “Gerald build the houses.  I not know where, but I remember Maria say it.  It sound like flowers.”

            “Flowers?” she asked.

            “
Si
, Miss Essie,” he said with a shrug, “Like
orchidea
or–how you say–
asafr
á
n
? I not very good at flowers.”

            “It’s something,” said Essie, nodding.  “Now, can I have some eggs and bacon before I begin my detecting, Santos?  And, please, don’t let them burn the bacon!” 

            Santos smiled tentatively and headed off into the kitchen with his pile of dishes.           

Chapter Eight

“I don’t particularly like babies.  I don’t mind them for about four minutes.  That’s my max.  After that I can’t quite see what everyone’s fussing about.”

–Hugh Grant

            Essie made short work of her breakfast.  Her speed was partially because she was anxious to return to her apartment and tend to the baby.  It was also partially because she didn’t have anyone to talk to.  Essie enjoyed her meals primarily because she enjoyed chatting with her tablemates and sipping her coffee.  Without this camaraderie, all she could do was look around the dining hall at the few stragglers like herself who were lingering over their coffee too.

            An announcement boomed out over the Happy Haven public address system.

            “Residents,” said the friendly young female voice, “don’t forget today is book day.  Anyone who wishes to take the bus to the library, be at the front door by ten this morning.  Also, don’t forget that we will have carolers from the Logan Street elementary school coming to sing to us this afternoon at four in the family room.  Everyone will want to come down and listen to the beautiful Christmas music.”  Normally, Essie would be one of the first residents at such a program, but she doubted that she’d be able to attend today if she still had charge of baby Antonio.  She couldn’t very well take him to a vocal music program in the family room.   As she mused about her activities, she felt a tap on her shoulder.  She turned and looked up into the adoring eyes of Hubert Darby.  Hubert was dressed this morning in a festive green corduroy jacket.  A sprig of holly was attached to his lapel.  In his hands, he held a gift box wrapped in red and gold tinfoil paper. 

            “Miss Essie,” announced Hubert, thrusting the gift towards her.  “This is for you.”  Essie was flustered as she accepted the gift.  She was not used to receiving gifts from other residents–particularly male residents.  Most residents didn’t have any means to purchase presents for their friends, unless they had a relative buy them.  For that reason, most did not exchange gifts.  When birthdays occurred, residents typically gathered for a celebration in the dining hall and Happy Haven provided a cake and candles and everyone sang “Happy Birthday!”  That was generally enough present for most residents.  It was certainly enough for Essie.  The last thing she needed was more stuff cluttering up her apartment.

            “It’s …uh … peanut brittle, Miss Essie,” continued Hubert.  He smiled a cheesy grin but his eyes were unable to focus on her face.

            “Hubert,” Essie replied tentatively, “I can’t eat peanut brittle much anymore because it’s so … hard to chew.”

            Hubert’s face sank.  “I’m sorry, Miss Essie,” he stammered.  “I thought you would like it.  I didn’t think … about … .”  His voice trailed away.  He scowled and his entire large forehead wrinkled.  He appeared to be contemplating a serious problem, not the properties of candy. 

            “But, I’m very honored that you thought to buy this for me, Hubert,” said Essie, jumping in.  This was the most voluble she had ever heard Hubert Darby and she didn’t want to discourage his efforts at communication–nor his sweet gesture.  “I will enjoy it … even if I have to just suck on a piece of it from time to time.”  She clutched the gift box to her chest and beamed up at Hubert.

            Hubert’s face turned a brilliant shade of red and he rocked back and forth on his tennis shoes just as he had done when he accosted her in her hallway the day before.  Then, apparently lost for further words, he turned abruptly and shuffled out of the dining hall.

            Essie smiled to herself and took another sip of her coffee as she contemplated her present predicament–and that even included Hubert Darby.  She knew that she would probably have to take action to discover the whereabouts of Maria Valdez Compton, because it was obvious that Santos did not have the time or the language skills or the knowledge of the community to track the missing mother down on his own.  Essie was going to have to get involved in finding this Maria–and she was going to have to keep her efforts quiet.  Where to start?  She now knew the woman’s name, the husband’s name, and a possible clue as to where the husband worked.  She had immediately honed in on the fact that Maria’s husband, Gerald Compton, worked for a company that had something to do with flowers.  She would start there with a trip to her telephone directory. 

            As she was planning her next steps, she looked up and noticed a woman heading towards her table.  She immediately recognized the woman as Clara Monroe, her next door neighbor. 
Oh dear
, thought Essie
.  I hope she hasn’t heard Antonio crying.

            “Essie Cobb,” said Clara, stopping on the other side of Essie’s table and slamming her purse down in front of her.  “Whatever is going on in your room?”  Clara, wearing a severe high-necked black dress, with her long grey hair wrapped in a tight bun, looked for all the world like the stereotypical gossip that Essie perceived her neighbor to be.

            Essie froze.  Had the baby’s cries been that noticeable?  Yes, he had cried a few times, but each time he did, either she or one of her friends had immediately diverted his attention with food or rocking or something. 

            “What do you mean, Clara?” she asked cautiously, almost fearful that the determined little hen of a woman might pop her with the oversized black pocketbook that she was holding on to like some sort of weapon.

            “It sounds like you’re having some sort of convention over there in your apartment!” complained Clara, banging her purse on the table as she spoke in punctuation.  “You must have had a crowd of fifty people there last night until all hours of the morning!”  Clara clucked and harrumphed and added, “And with your television set playing so loud too!”

            “Oh, Clara,” interjected Essie, amused at Clara’s exaggerations.  “I guarantee I didn’t have fifty people … or television.”

            Clara ignored Essie and continued, “And children!  Lots of children, crying and whining!”  This complaint, Essie noted was right on the mark.  Clara continued listing Essie’s bad deeds.  “Did your relatives come in from out of town?  My Lord, they are a noisy bunch, Essie!”

            “No relatives, Clara,” said Essie, sweetly and truthfully.  “I promise you.  Actually… just a few friends.  Opal and Marjorie, my tablemates.  You know them.  And Fay–and she doesn’t talk.”

            “Humph!” snorted the diminutive Clara, “Not likely!  I’ve never heard so much noise!  You have the loudest television set, Essie!  I’m sure everyone in our hallway could hear it!”

            “Really, Clara?” asked Essie, actually amused.  “No one else from our hall has mentioned it.  In fact, Clara, if it bothered you so much last night, why didn’t you just knock on my door and complain about it then?”

            “What?” cried Clara with a start, dropping her purse on the table.  She pulled on the collar of her dress and fidgeted with the goiter on her neck.  “I would never think of complaining, Essie.  It’s not in my nature!”  She rose to her full height–which wasn’t much–and, grabbing her purse in an apparent defensive move, walked purposefully out of the dining hall.

            “Hmm,” said Essie as she took another sip of coffee.  She glanced down at her watch.  Only twenty minutes had elapsed since she’d left her room.  Surely, Opal, Marjorie, and Fay were handling baby Antonio just fine.  Part of her felt a need to return to her apartment and check on his welfare.  Another part of her felt the need to force herself to just sit at her table–tablemates or not–and relax for a moment.  After all, they said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day.  And she intended to at least let her food digest before returning into the excitement.

            Essie glanced around.  Even fewer residents remained over their coffee.  Kitchen staff members were now busy cleaning up the room and preparing for the noon time meal.  She could see many of them through the kitchen entrance working diligently chopping vegetables and preparing casseroles.  She couldn’t see Santos but was sure he was busy with his job and didn’t have time to do the kind of detecting work that needed to be done to help Maria and her baby. 

            Over in the far corner by the window, two women were still eating.  Essie didn’t know who they were, but she thought that they were very slow.  It was one thing to linger over a cup of coffee, but it was strange for them to still be actually eating.  One lady was quietly nibbling on a piece of buttered toast and the other was bent over her plate, slurping small pieces of fried egg into her mouth.  With each bite, her movements seemed to become slower and slower.  Essie became intrigued with the egg-eating woman and the incredibly slow speed at which she consumed her meal.  She wondered if this woman spent this amount of time eating her breakfast every day.  Did her friend stay at the table merely to keep her company and did she attempt to match her eating speed to that of her friend?  It was a puzzle, but one that Essie contemplated with only a casual interest. 

            However, Essie’s interest in the slow eater increased when the woman suddenly looked up, bent over the side of her chair and vomited quite violently all over the floor.  The woman’s friend shrieked in alarm, standing up.  Quickly, several kitchen workers descended on the two women to see what had happened.  As they saw the situation, one stayed with the sick woman, who was still bent over, continuing to heave.  The second ran swiftly out of the dining room.  Within a few seconds, she returned, followed by a nurse who attended to the bent over woman.  Shortly, the nurse helped the sick woman up and guided her past Essie, out of the dining hall.  The second woman followed behind them.  The two kitchen workers quickly cleaned up the mess and began to scrub the carpet with disinfectant. 

            In the years that Essie had been at Happy Haven, she’d seen many residents require medical attention.  She had seen some faint.  She had seen some fall and suffer injuries.  She had even seen one resident die in front of her.  This was the first time Essie had seen someone vomit.  She wondered if the woman had experienced food poisoning or if she just had the flu.  Either way, it wasn’t good.  Happy Haven was not filled with young Olympic athletes, so injuries, food poisoning, and harmful bacteria and viruses were not welcome here.  On any other day, Essie might have been very curious about just what had happened to cause the slow eating lady to get sick so suddenly, but today was not one of those days.  Today she had another, bigger problem.

            Santos popped back into the dining hall, bringing coffee to a straggler near the entrance.  As he whizzed past her, she grabbed his elbow.

            “Santos,” she said, looking up into his pre-occupied face, “if you hear anything about you-know-whom, please come by my apartment and let me know.  I’m in B114.”

            “
Si
, Miss Essie,” he replied, barely stopping on his way, “B114.  I come see you if I hear anything.”  He expertly lifted the full cup of coffee in the air so it would not drip on Essie and then continued on his way towards the gentleman by the door.  Essie grabbed her gift-wrapped box of peanut brittle–the token of affection from Hubert Darby–and headed back to her apartment.