Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 02 - Papoosed (3 page)

            “I don’t know, Santos,” said Essie with a sigh.  “It’s one thing to figure out how to help an old man.  I have a lot of personal experience with being old.   I don’t have any idea what to do to help this little baby.”

            “But you will think of something, Miss Essie!” cried Santos. “I know you can!  Please do not make me give baby to the authors!”

            “The authorities,” corrected Essie gently.  “Santos, there’s no guarantee that the authorities would automatically give Antonio to his father.  I’m sure if you explained what Maria had told you, they’d …”

            “No, Miss Essie,” argued Santos.  “Gerald is American citizen.  Maria is only citizen because she marry Gerald and … if he divorce Maria, Maria is not citizen anymore.  Authorities take baby.”

            “Really?” Essie quizzed the young man.  “They can do that?”

            “Maria says Gerald will send her back to Mexico and put baby in
un hogar de crianza
…”

            “What?”

            “
Un hogar
… like a house … for babies with no father … .”

            “A foster home?”

            “
Si
!  He will put Antonio in foster home if she does not do what he tells her.  If Maria complains, Gerald will beat her.  I do not know how to help Maria.  I do not want Maria to get beating.  I do not want Maria to lose baby.”

            “Surely, Maria has this all figured out,” said Essie finally.  “She’s probably just been delayed a bit in getting back here.  She’ll probably show up any minute and tell you what she’s decided to do.  You did say she left hurriedly.  That probably means she has a plan.”

            “I hope so, Miss Essie,” said Santos wearily.  “I hope she comes back very soon.  I must close up kitchen and check out all the workers.  It is my night.  Then I must lock kitchen and leave.”  He pushed back a thick lock of dark hair that had flopped over his forehead.

            “And if she’s not back before you have to lock up?” asked Essie.

            “I … I … do not know.”

            “You can’t leave a baby here in this closet all night long,” said Essie.  “You know that.”

            “I know,” replied Santos with a wince.

            “Assuming she doesn’t return,” said Essie gingerly, “can’t you take him with you overnight and bring him back with you in the morning?  Maybe Maria will contact you someway before then.”

            “That cannot be, Miss Essie.”

            “Why not?”

            “I live with Senor and Senora Peterson.  In their boarding house.  I have a bedroom on the second floor.  I
comparto
… uh, share … a bathroom with Senor and Senora.  Senor Peterson is a sick man.  Senora Peterson takes care of him.  I have to be very quiet.  I cannot have a baby in the house.”

            “You mean you don’t have your own apartment?” asked Essie.  She had assumed that Santos probably lived alone or shared an apartment with one or more other young persons as did so many people today.  As a matter of fact, several of her grandchildren had such living arrangements.  Obviously, Santos’s finances didn’t allow such privacy.  She had to admire the young man’s frugality–and his concern for his friend Maria and her child.  Said child was even now making himself known.  As Essie glanced down at the cardboard box on the lower shelf, she could see the dish towel coverlets start to move.  An almost inaudible coo emitted from the box.

            “Oh, dear!” she moaned.  “What can be done?”

            “You, Miss Essie!” said Santos with a smile.  “You take the baby!  Santos knows you good lady, Miss Essie.  You will take good care of Antonio.  You are all alone in your apartment.  Yes, Miss Essie?”

            “Yes, I live alone,” agreed Essie, “but I can’t keep a baby in my apartment.  My neighbors would hear it crying.  I’d get in trouble with the administration of Happy Haven.  Violet would never approve of me … or anyone … keeping an infant in their room!  Besides, I don’t have any supplies!  I mean, what about food?  Diapers? Clothes?”

            “Oh, Miss Essie,” said Santos, “you are most clever lady I know!  You know what to do!” He looked at her and then at the small, tan, round face, now just opening his eyes in the box.  Essie scooted her walker closer to the box and peered down at the baby.  An ugly gash lined the baby’s right cheek and Essie noticed a bruise on one of his fat little legs as he writhed out of his makeshift blankets.  Despite his injuries, Antonio looked directly into Essie’s face and beamed.

            “All right!” she said, with a pitiful sigh.  “Give him here!  But only tonight!” With that, she rose and lifted the leather seat on her walker.  Santos carefully picked up the small bundle, dish towels and all and gently placed him in the wire mesh basket directly under the seat on Essie’s walker.  Ever so carefully, Essie lowered the seat, being cautious that no toes or fingers were caught between the seat and the basket beneath.  Then with a shake of her finger at Santos and a quick warning finger to her lips, she swiftly maneuvered her walker out of the storage closet, through the now empty kitchen, and into the dining hall.

Chapter Three

“Even when freshly washed and relieved of all obvious confections, children tend to be sticky.”

–Fran Lebowitz

            Essie rolled her walker with her usual expertise, carefully dodging chairs placed around square tables arranged randomly in Happy Haven’s large dining hall.  She was torn between going her usual super speed so she could get to her room before the baby inside her walker’s basket made any noticeable noise, and maintaining a more casual rate so that she didn’t accidentally bump into anything and injure or–at a minimum–disturb the little fellow within.

            As she passed her own table, she noted that Opal and Marjorie were still seated, sipping their coffee.  Fay remained in her wheelchair, snoring gently. 

            “Essie,” called out Marjorie, as Essie whizzed past.  “Essie, what happened in the kitchen? What did Santos want?”

            “Essie!” yelled Opal to Essie’s back as Essie made a sharp turn to the left and headed towards the door.  “Essie!  Where are you going?  What happened?”

            The commotion of Essie’s entrance from the kitchen and immediate exit–along with the cries of her table companions–awakened the sleeping Fay, who looked around, startled and then reached for her coffee cup when she realized that she was still at the dinner table.

            “Sorry, Opal, Marjorie!” Essie cried out over her shoulder as she zoomed past her friends.  “Can’t talk now!”  She made a bee-line down the center of the dining hall towards the main entrance.  Opal looked at Marjorie.

            “That’s strange!” Opal whispered to her shorter tablemate.  Fay, now awake, stared at Essie’s back as she wheeled down the center aisle of the dining hall.

            “Where do you think she’s going in such a hurry?” asked Marjorie, still focused on Essie’s retreating form in the distance. 

            “I don’t know,” replied Opal.  “What could that kitchen boy … that Santos … have shown her to cause her to rush out of here so fast?”

            “It’s not like her to skip her coffee like this,” added Marjorie.  At that comment, Fay pressed the button on the arm of her wheelchair that activated the vehicle and quickly guided herself away from the table and through the dining hall.

            “Fay!” called out Opal, “where are you going?”

            “What’s gotten into her now?” Marjorie asked Opal, puzzled.  The two women looked at each other and then, at almost the same time, they set down their coffee cups, rose, grabbed their walkers, and rolled quickly out of the dining hall, single file after Fay.

            Outside of the dining hall, Essie entered the Happy Haven lobby, the one place where she knew she would be likely to encounter the greatest amount of traffic.  She glanced around quickly and saw only a few residents parked in front of the fireplace enjoying the blazing fire and the Christmas stockings hanging above it.  She gave her walker an extra budge over the edge of the carpet, being careful not to jostle the baby inside.  Unfortunately, in her haste, one of her wheels became stuck on the carpet edge, something it had done numerous times before.  As she bent over to loosen the rubber wheel, a voice above her made her skin crawl.  She looked up.

            “Essie,” said a slender, regal-looking woman with sleek, dark, shoulder-length hair combed strategically behind her ears.  “You seem to be in quite a hurry tonight.”

            “Oh, Miss Hendrickson!” replied Essie, looking up at Happy Haven’s imposing Director Violet Hendrickson.  Essie continued to manipulate her rubber wheel and eventually got it unstuck from the wayward carpet thread.

            “A problem?” continued Violet, arms crossed, tapping a pencil against her elbow. She moved around Essie and stood directly in front of her walker, blocking her way.

            “No! No! Miss Hendrickson,” explained Essie, “just have to get to the bathroom.  You know, too much coffee!  I’m ninety!  Can’t be helped!”  With this brief explanation, she ducked around the woman and proceeded on her way, leaving Violet Hendrickson, standing in the center of the lobby, gazing after Essie’s retreating form with a look of more than mild curiosity.  Essie knew that Violet was suspicious of her because Essie had stuck her nose into Violet’s background and had recently almost cost Violet her job.  Although Essie was always exceedingly polite to Violet, Violet appeared to view Essie as a potential trouble-maker.  Sometimes Essie wondered if Violet thought she was the director of a home for criminals rather than senior citizens.  At least, that’s how Essie felt around the dour, humorless woman.  Opal and Marjorie thought Essie was imagining things–and well she might be.

            Essie continued through the lobby, all decked out in its traditional holiday finery.  The central focus was a gigantic two-story tall spruce tree covered from top to bottom with lights and ornaments.  At its base, a vintage railroad train careened around small tracks–its tiny whistle announcing its arrival. 
Still no peep from the baby in the basket, luckily
, thought Essie, as she zoomed around the tree towards the family room.  She could hear Opal and Marjorie calling behind her from the dining hall.  As she glanced back, she saw Fay following her in her motorized wheelchair. 
Oh, no!
she thought,
I don’t need them involved in this!  It’s bad enough that I’m involved! 
She pressed on towards her room which was on the far side of the lobby, past the family room and down the hallway on the right.  She was committed now.  Hopefully, Opal and Marjorie and Fay would just give up on following her and go on to their own rooms.   She couldn’t worry about that now.  She forged ahead as fast as she was able. 

            As she turned into her hallway from the family room, she ran smack dab into Hubert Darby. 
Oh, dear!  Why is he down this hallway?  He doesn’t live in this wing of the building,
she recalled
.  What if he is trying to find me?

            “Essie!” exclaimed Hubert, “Hello, Essie!”

            She was forced to stop.  He was standing directly in front of her. 

            “Essie,” continued Hubert, his suspenders still noticeably unhooked she noticed, “I … I dropped by your room.”

            “That’s nice of you, Hubert,” said Essie, then … with a quick maneuver to her left, she whizzed around Hubert, yelling back to him, “but I can’t stop to talk now.  I really need to use the bathroom!”  She couldn’t help but think how she would never have given any of her suitors any information about her bladder habits when she was younger, but senior status had somehow made her more forthcoming and less inhibited.  Or maybe conniving.  In truth, although her bladder often did make her rush to get to the nearest bathroom, this was not one of those moments. 

            Hubert Darby stood totally befuddled, twisting his upper torso around to look at her as Essie stormed down the narrow hallway towards her room.  He barely noticed as Opal and Marjorie whizzed by on either side of him with their walkers, led by Fay in her motor chair.  Hubert just stood there, shaking his head and looking forlorn.  Pulling a large white cloth hanky from his pants pocket, he wiped sweat from his forehead and headed back towards the lobby. 

            Essie continued on down her hallway, oblivious of the string of three women following her.  She reached her doorway.  She knew it was hers not because of its location or even the “B114” plastered on the door.  She knew it was hers because the door was festooned with a jaunty Christmas elf.  Essie–like most residents–always decorated her door for upcoming holidays.  As Christmas was only days away, she had put her cute little elf on her door because he always made her feel in a Christmas-y mood.  That, and because her late husband John had always adored the little fellow and had insisted that he reside on the front door of their home every Christmas–no matter where they had lived.  When Essie saw her Christmas elf she grabbed her door handle and opened her door.  Carefully, she wheeled her walker inside and turned around to close the door behind her.

            “Oh, no you don’t!” cried Opal, arriving at the doorway along with Marjorie and Fay and barring Essie from closing it with the left front wheel of her walker.  “Just what are you up to, Essie Cobb?”

            “Yes, Essie!” agreed Marjorie, pushing her walker through the door frame along with Opal, effectively preventing Essie from closing her own door.  Fay remained in her wheelchair directly behind the two women.

            “I have to go!” cried Essie, giving them her little fake bladder dance.

            “Then go!” ordered Opal, “we’ll just wait until you’re done!”  She barreled into Essie’s small apartment, followed by Marjorie and finally Fay.  The three women lined up like a firing squad in the middle of Essie’s living room and Essie felt like a prisoner making her final request.  She looked at her three friends and at her wide-open front door and then at the basket beneath her walker seat where the infant was hopefully still sleeping. 
Anyone could walk down the outside hallway at any moment,
she thought. 
If a staff member walked by and the baby cried, I’d be in trouble.  Worse, yet, the baby would be taken from me–and Maria might never see her child again!

            Making a quick decision, Essie rolled her walker over to the door and quietly closed it.  She gestured for the three women to take seats, which they did.  Fay remained in her wheelchair by Essie’s only outside window on the far side of her living room.  A hanging row of Christmas lights decorated the top of her window.  Through the blinds, Essie could see that a light snow had begun to fall.

            “I thought you said you had to pee,” said Marjorie.

            “Marjorie,” said Opal, aghast, “such language!”

            “She said it!” replied Marjorie.  Essie’s living room smelled noticeably of Christmas because she had strategically placed several fragrance dispensers on tables around the room to elicit holiday memories whenever she entered her apartment.

            “Quiet, you two!” interjected Essie, looking at her arguing friends now seated together on Essie’s small sofa, their walkers parked in front of them. They looked like two petulant siblings being forced to sit next to each other for their annual Christmas photo.  Essie rolled her walker over to her favorite lounge chair and sat.  “I’m fine.  I don’t have to pee.  I just had to get back to my room.”

            “You’re here!” said Opal. “So what did Santos want with you in the kitchen?  And why did you have to rush out of the dining room so fast that you couldn’t even stop long enough to tell us about it?”

            “Because,” said Essie, “Santos asked me to do him a favor.  And I … uh … promised to keep something for him.”

            “What, Essie?” asked Marjorie. Her green eyes sparkled merrily.  Marjorie was always up for a caper.

            “Why would one of the kitchen workers want you to keep something for him?” added Opal.   Opal was more circumspect than Marjorie and would only become involved if the cause was just.

            “Is it drugs?” suggested Marjorie with a salacious grin.

            “Of course not, Marjorie!” replied Essie, “I  guess he asked me because he had heard about everything I had done to help Bob Weiderley.”  She fingered the little winter snow globe that she kept on the end table next to her lounger.  The swirling snowstorm inside helped to calm her.

            “So?” continued Opal.  “What did he give you to keep?”  Fay motored closer.  All three of Essie’s friends glared at her with wide-open eyes.