Lost Innocents (7 page)

Bonnie hesitated, and Maddy could see the wariness in her eyes, mixed with a reluctance to seem rude or ungrateful. Maddy instantly remembered the woman on TV, pleading for the return of her baby, and identified with Bonnie’s reluctance.

“He might be scared being left with a stranger,” Bonnie said.

“You’re right,” said Maddy. “Never mind.”

Bonnie leaned over and lifted the child from the chair. He was fussing, but his sticky hands clutched the neck of her dress and the ends of her frizzy hair. “I won’t be long. We’ll just peek in at him.”

“You go ahead. We’ll be right here in the lobby,” Maddy assured her. “There’s my husband. We’ll meet you back here as soon as you’re done,” she added as she saw Bonnie hesitate.

Bonnie picked up her bags.

“Do you want me to keep those?” Maddy asked.

Bonnie shook her head.

“Well, give me the diaper bag, at least.”

Bonnie looked anxiously at the bag, as if she thought Maddy might just take her bag and walk off with it. “No, I’ll keep it,” she said. “I might need it.”

Maddy felt a little insulted, though she tried not to show it. After all, it was one thing not to trust a stranger with your child. But a diaper bag? She stifled the urge to protest. “Okay, well, go on,” said Maddy. “And good luck.”

As Bonnie rushed out of the coffee shop, her burdens bobbing in her thin arms, Maddy walked out to the lobby.

Doug turned at her approach and smiled briefly, then glanced at his watch. “Are you ready?” he said.

Maddy sighed. “Prepare yourself,” she said. “We’re having houseguests.”

“Houseguests? Who?”

Maddy glanced over her shoulder, as if to be sure no one was listening. “You know the people in the van?”

Doug frowned at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.

“In the accident,” she persisted. “Oh, honey, the man just got out of surgery, their car is in the garage, and they have nowhere to go. They’re from Maine somewhere. They don’t know a soul here. She’s up checking on him right now.”

“Why can’t they go to a hotel?”

“They haven’t got any money,” Maddy whispered. “He was headed here to see about a job. He’s been out of work. Something we can sympathize with.”

Doug frowned. “Well, we can give them enough money for a hotel.”

“And how will they get around? They can’t afford cabs. This woman has a tiny baby.”

Doug sighed.

“It’s our fault they’re in this mess, Doug,” Maddy pleaded. “I can’t just leave them here.”

“Don’t say that, Maddy,” he snapped. “Don’t go claiming responsibility. You didn’t say that to her, did you?” he demanded.

Maddy shook her head, which was a lie, and she knew it.

“It was an accident,” he said. “That’s all anybody needs to know.”

“All right, it was an accident. But can’t we do the decent thing?”

“Maddy—” Doug’s response was interrupted when he was nearly toppled by an extremely tall young man on crutches far too short for him. He was hobbling across the lobby, his countenance a terrible combination of fury, pain, and sorrow.

Doug looked at him curiously. “That’s Cliff Sobranski,” he whispered to Maddy.

“Who’s he?” Maddy asked. Suddenly she saw the couple from the lounge hurrying to catch up with the young man. The woman called out to him, her voice full of motherly concern, but the father’s face was like a thundercloud.

“He’s the top basketball prospect at the university. The NBA has been scouting him in his junior year,” Doug said.

“I heard the doctor telling his parents he had two torn ligaments in his ankle,” Maddy whispered.

“Oh no,” said Doug. He looked stricken as he watched the distressed family trail out into the night. “That poor kid. He had the whole world at his feet. He could have had it all. Unbelievable.” Maddy watched Doug, and she could see he was thinking of his own injury, his own truncated career. Part of her felt sorry for him, but part of her wanted to say, “So what? There are a lot worse things in life than that.” She held her tongue. There was no use trying to discuss it because he always told her that she simply didn’t understand.

At that moment Bonnie appeared, looking frantically around the lobby, jiggling her fussing baby to try to quiet him. Her expression relaxed when she saw Maddy and Doug. She hurried over to them. “I thought you’d be gone,” she said.

Maddy wondered why she would think that. “I said we’d wait.”

Bonnie shrugged as if to express her lack of faith in such promises.

“Bonnie,” said Maddy, “this is my husband, Doug Blake. Doug, this is Bonnie Lewis. The one I told you about.” She turned to Bonnie. “How’s your husband doing? Did you see him?”

“He’s out cold. He didn’t know I was there.” Bonnie turned to Doug. “Your wife invited us to stay,” she said anxiously, “but if you don’t want us there…”

Doug forced a brief smile. “No, no,” he said. “It’s no problem. Let me just go see if the cab is here.”

Maddy gave the other woman an encouraging smile as Doug went over to the door. “Everything will be all right,” she said.

Bonnie nodded grimly and patted the back of her baby, whose little sobs echoed off the walls of the quiet lobby.

Maddy led the way up the stairs to the bedrooms. She opened the door to the guest room. There were twin beds and a bureau. In the corner was the crib, which Amy had outgrown. Maddy had put it there so that they would be prepared for visits from friends or family who also had young children. Bonnie looked around the room, and for the first time she brightened. “This’ll be great,” she said.

Maddy nodded, feeling pleased at the sight of the pale yellow room with its hooked rug and wildflower quilts. She remembered the day last spring when she and Doug had painted this room. Doug had started out griping that he wished they had the money to hire someone to do it, but in the end it had been fun. They had painted while Amy danced happily around with her doll.

“Maybe we can get a house,” said Bonnie. “If the job works out. Before this we’ve lived in apartments. But now that we have Sean…”

“How long have you been married?” Maddy asked.

Bonnie frowned. “Oh, not too long. A few years. It took me a while to get pregnant. Then when I did, it was easy as pie. I worked up until the week I had him.” She placed the baby into the crib and took off the knitted booties on his feet.

Maddy leaned against the door frame. “Where did you work?” she asked.

“What?” Bonnie asked, turning around. “Oh, at the library. As an assistant.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have any trouble getting a job around here. Seems like they’re always short staffed at the library.”

“I’m not going to go back to work,” she said. “Not now. Terry wants to support us. Once I get this little one off to school, I’ll be able to go back,” she said dreamily. “Terry and I have discussed it and we both feel that it’s important for the mother to be home with her child.”

Maddy smiled and gave her an assessing glance. She wasn’t young, probably mid-thirties, and she was not especially attractive. But she had found herself a husband and she had her first child. Having this baby must have been a dream come true to her. No wonder she wanted to stay home. And it would probably work out fine for them, except for this little nightmare glitch of the breadwinner being in the hospital, minus his spleen.

Bonnie walked over to the bed and began to rummage in the diaper bag. She pulled out a pair of pajamas and set them gently on the bed. “Good thing these weren’t in the suitcase,” she said. She removed a bottle of baby oil, powder, and a plastic soap container.

“I’ll drive you around to the garage tomorrow and we’ll get your bags,” said Maddy.

Bonnie returned to the side of the crib and unsnapped the baby’s little corduroy pants. He began to make fretful noises.

“Maybe you should let him sleep in his clothes,” Maddy suggested, “so you don’t wake him up.”

Bonnie looked up at her indignantly. “And let him go to bed all dirty and sticky like this? I wouldn’t think of it.”

Mind your own business, Maddy reminded herself. Every mother has her own way of doing things. “Well, I’m going to leave you two. I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.”

“No fruit,” said Bonnie.

“What?” Maddy asked.

“No fruit for breakfast. Sean is allergic to most fruits.”

Maddy smiled. “Well, my Amy won’t touch them anyway. Good night.” Bonnie resumed undressing the baby as Maddy pulled the door shut quietly.

She went down the hall to her bedroom, tiptoeing so as not to wake Doug. As she approached the door, she thought she heard the murmur of his voice. She opened the door and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, a pained expression on his face.

“Doug, what’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m all right,” he said.

“Maybe you better take one of those painkillers.”

Doug shook his head.

“That’s why the doctor gave you a prescription.”

“I don’t need it,” he said.

Maddy sighed. “Okay. Whatever you think. I guess I got our guests settled in.” From down the hall the baby’s fussy cry threaded its way to them. Maddy went to the closet and got out her nightgown. “What a night,” she said.

“Maddy…”

Maddy turned and looked at her husband. “What?”

“There’s another little problem…”

Maddy’s heart started to race with apprehension. She held her nightgown up in front of her, as if for protection. “What problem?” Then she frowned. “Who were you talking to on the phone just now?”

“You heard me?” he asked.

“I heard your voice as I was coming in. I didn’t hear what you were saying.”

“Stanley Plank,” he said.

“Who in the world is Stanley Plank?”

Doug sighed. “Our insurance man.”

“Oh, right,” said Maddy. “You told him about the accident.” She shook her head in confusion. “So, what’s the problem?”

“Maddy, look,” said Doug. “You know the last few months have been so crazy. I mean with this court business. And being out of work…”

“Yes,” she said, conscious that she was holding her breath.

“Last month, I was paying the bills and there just wasn’t enough money to go around.”

“Enough money for what?” she said.

“I had to let a few things slide. I had no choice.” He was avoiding her gaze, explaining himself to the carpet by the bed.

“Don’t tell me,” she said. “Not the car insurance.”

“It probably won’t matter,” he said. “It’s a no-fault state.”

Maddy turned away from him, her jaw clenched. “The car insurance, Doug?”

“It was a judgment call,” he said irritably. “Anyway, maybe it’ll all go away…”

Maddy shook her head. She felt numb. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “What could you have been thinking? What if they decide to sue us or something?”

Doug sprang up from the edge of the bed and turned on her, his eyes blazing. “Well, if they do sue us, it’s because you have acted as if we were to blame. Inviting them here…you might as well have admitted it was our fault.”

Maddy’s face reddened, for she knew she had said exactly that to the police.

All of a sudden, they heard a noise in the hallway. Doug looked toward the door. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

Maddy jerked around and saw a shadow on the half-open door of their bedroom. Amy was not home. It could be only one person. She felt her face flush with shame at the thought that their argument might have been overheard.

Doug strode to the door and pulled it open. Bonnie was standing there, holding an empty baby bottle.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Pardon me,” Bonnie said indignantly. “I only wanted to know if I could get Sean some milk. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Of course,” Maddy said humbly. “Downstairs. In the fridge.”

Bonnie raised her chin and turned away. As she turned, Maddy saw something chilling in her eyes—an unmistakable little glint of satisfaction.

F
rank Cameron poured a cup of coffee, and wiped a large hand over his wide, sagging face. He’d spent most of the night at the police station and out on the search with his officers, and his complexion was nearly as gray as his hair. He had come home, managed two hours of sleep on the sofa in the den, and was now getting ready to go back to the station.

Mary Beth sat at the kitchen table, her laptop open beside her plate of dry toast, studying the screen and picking away at the keys with one polished fingernail. She was groomed and coiffed for the office, her makeup flawless, her fitted red suit at once tailored and seductive. Frank remembered when she’d first returned to work. Heather had just started third grade, and Mary Beth had complained that there wasn’t enough for her to do at home. Back then her entire professional wardrobe had consisted of two skirts—one gray and one navy blue—and a couple of cardigan twin sets. Although her transformation had been gradual, he felt as if he had completely missed it—as if one day, the wife he knew had disappeared and been replaced by this sharp-eyed real estate mini-mogul.

“What time did you get in?” Mary Beth asked, her gaze not wavering from the little screen.

“Oh, Jesus, I don’t know. Five. Six.”

“Did you find them?”

“Not yet, Mary Beth,” he said caustically. She did not seem to notice.

Heather shuffled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door.

“Hello, Heather,” Frank said.

“Hi, Dad.” She gave him a brief smile and went back to examining the contents of the refrigerator. Frank thought how strange it was for them to all be in the same room at the same time. Usually he left the house before they got up, and when he got home, Heather was in her room with the door shut and his dinner was in the microwave. Meanwhile Mary Beth would be busy making appointments on her cell phone or logging on to the Internet, to share her grievances with some other frustrated female.

He thought back to the time when Frank junior and Heather were children, and they always seemed to eat together. A lot of nights he had kept them waiting, but still, those had been better days. He gazed at his daughter, who was sitting down with a juice box and a Pop-Tarts on a paper plate. He felt a sudden, overwhelming affection for her, probably because he had spent the night worrying about Rebecca Starnes, who was about the same age as Heather. She looked vulnerable and kind of sweet to him in those baggy overalls she liked to wear. Impulsively he walked over to her and stroked her soft hair.