Where is the Baby? (8 page)

A tide of doubt washed over the child's face.

Guilt, thick and gluey, collected in Connie's throat. The child had no comprehension of gentle gestures. ‘It's all right, sweetie,' she said quietly. ‘It was wrong of me to ask you. We'll forget about it.'

Not sure how it worked, but wanting to please her, Humaby leaned over and pressed her lips to Connie's cheek, then asked, ‘That okay?'

‘That was lovely, the nicest kiss I've ever had. Thank you so much.'

In a relieved rush, the child said, ‘You're welkin, Miss Connie.' Searching Connie's eyes, she asked, ‘You gonna read for me again?'

‘I'd love to. But first I have to take a few pictures – just of your face, to show how pretty you look. Would that be all right?'

‘I guess. But why?'

‘Mister Brian and the other policemen are going to show your picture to lots of people and try to find your family.'

‘What if I don't
have
a family?'

‘Then arrangements will be made to find you a new one.'

‘That's what Mister Brian said.' Humaby looked over at the window, wondering if a new family would live in a van, too.

‘And he was right. This'll only take a minute.'

‘Miss Connie, one of the nurse ladies said children like ka-toons.' She pointed at the TV. ‘But bunnies and animals get hurted and there's lots of big noises that're scary.'

‘Would you like me to turn it off?'

‘Yeah. Why would children like those?'

‘I really don't know. I never liked them when I was a kid.' Connie found the remote and switched off the set. ‘I was born in another country where there wasn't any TV. It wasn't until we came here, when I was little like you, that I saw a cartoon. It scared me.'

Blinking at the now dark screen, Humaby said, ‘You got ascared?'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘And you was little like me?'

‘Yes, I was.'

‘But now you're growed up and don't get scared anymore, right?'

‘Sometimes, I do. Grown-ups get scared the same as little kids do, sweetie.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘Well, we do.' Connie offered one of her big smiles, then said, ‘If it's okay with you, I'll take the pictures now and we'll be done with it.' Connie got her camera from the case before adjusting the curtains to brighten the room. She sat the girl at an angle on the side of the bed so that the available light lent a lovely glow to her features, and quickly took a dozen close-ups from different angles. ‘All done,' she announced. ‘Thank you very much. You made my job so easy. You are
such
a good girl. Now we can read until your lunch comes.' She glanced at her watch. She'd have plenty of time to process the negs, print the film, then rush the best full-face and profile shots to the repro place to get copies made.

‘Lunch is food?'

‘That's right. Breakfast is what you eat when you wake up, lunch is what you have in the middle of the day, and dinner is what you have near the end of the day a little before it's time for you to go to bed. Are you hungry?'

‘They gived me juice and cookies before. I didn't even have to ask.'

‘That's great. Why don't you sit back against the pillows, get comfy, and we'll read.'

Humaby settled with the teddy bear and stuffed bunny on either side of her, every few moments rubbing a hand over her sleeve or her leg, savoring the plush feel of the velour. ‘Are you old, Miss Connie?'

Connie laughed as she picked up the Beatrix Potter book from the bedside table. ‘I'm twenty-five.'

‘Is that old?

‘Not very.'

‘Is Mister Brian old?'

‘I think he's probably a few years older than I am.'

‘Could you and Mister Brian be my family?'

Profoundly touched, Connie chose her words with care. ‘Mister Brian already has a family, sweetie. And they don't let women who aren't married take care of small children like you. But I'll be your friend always. Sometimes, friends can be just as good as family.'

‘Oh!' Disappointed, Humaby looked down and stroked her sleeve.

Reaching to take hold of the child's free hand, Connie said, ‘No matter what happens, you will
always
be important to me. I will come to see you, wherever you are, and you'll be able to call me on the telephone.'

‘I don't know how to use the telephone.'

Giving the small hand a gentle squeeze, Connie said, ‘Don't worry. I'll teach you how. Are you ready for a story now?'

‘Yes, please, Miss Connie.'

Finding her place, Connie said. ‘Today we're going to read
The Tale of Jeremy Fisher
.'

Early that afternoon, Margery Briggs, the social worker in charge of the case received four calls, each one an offer to provide foster care for the Kmart child.

The first call came in from Officer Brian Kirlane.

The second was from Connie Mason.

The third, at the urging of his wife, was from Dr Stefan Lazarus, who made the call because he didn't think there was any chance of the child being placed in their care.

And the fourth was from Captain James Garvey.

‘Would I be breaking any rules if I picked her up at the hospital and brought her to the house for an hour?' Brian asked the captain. ‘I just think it would do her good to be with ordinary people, meet another little girl. Maybe play a bit.'

‘Let me make a call to that Lazarus guy. If he says it's okay then I can't see a problem. They're still waiting for test results so far as I know, and the poor kid's probably bored to death stuck in that room all alone.'

‘Thanks, Cap.'

‘Where we goin', Mister Brian?'

‘I'm taking you to my house to meet my daughter, Lucia, and her mother.'

‘Why?'

‘I thought you might like to get out of that room for a while, meet some new people. I like your sweat suit. It's sharp. And so're the sneakers.'

‘Miss Connie gived them to me. It's soft.' She held out her arm. ‘Feel!'

He did and emitted a soft whistle. ‘Wow! Is that
ever
soft!'

‘Yeah,' she said, pleased.

As they pulled in to the driveway, the front door opened and Jan stepped out with Lucia at her side.

Brian went around and opened the passenger door, helping Humaby out, then took her hand to lead her up the walk.

‘This is sweetie,' he told his wife and daughter.

At once, Jan dropped to her haunches and smiled, saying, ‘Hi! I'm so happy to meet you. I'm Jan and this is Lucia.'

Humaby didn't speak. Her gaze was fixed on the girl with the long white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes, porcelain skin, exquisite features. She'd never been this close to someone her own age and size. It felt funny but good in a strange way. ‘Pretty,' she murmured at last, not sure if that was the right word for what she wanted to say.

Lucia said, ‘I like your hair. I wanna get mine cut but my mom says not yet. I don't know why. Wanna see my room? I got a new Barbie.'

‘What's a Barbie?' Humaby asked, as if in a trance.

‘It's a doll,' Jan explained as Humaby continued to study Lucia, taking in every detail of her appearance.

‘A doll is another kind of toy,' Brian put in, as intrigued as his wife was by Humaby's reaction to Lucia.

‘Miss Connie said giving a kiss is a way to show how you feel about someone,' Humaby said and kissed Lucia's cheek, then leaned away to resume staring in awestruck fascination at the first child she'd ever met.

‘That's right,' Brian said, gripping Jan's hand as Lucia, with typical equanimity, kissed Humaby back, then took hold of her hand and said, ‘Come on. Let's go play!' and towed Humaby off into the house. As they went, Lucia was saying, ‘We made chocolate chip cookies and lemonade and everything. Like a party . . .'

‘Did you get that?' Jan asked quietly.

‘Yeah,' Brian answered. ‘Lucia's her first friend.'

‘How long have you got?'

‘An hour. I have to get her back to the hospital before the press conference. It'll hit the airwaves and the papers, and then the calls'll start coming in. Every crackpot from here to hell 'n' gone'll be phoning to say they know who she is, and all the parents with missing kids will insist she's their little Jen or Sarah or Em. It's gonna be brutal.'

‘Maybe they'll let her stay with us until something breaks.'

‘Maybe,' he said, with a gut hunch that it wasn't going to happen.

A
tall lady came to the room and looked at the clothes and said Humaby had to wear the scratchy dress and the tight shoes, and then she made Humaby stand still while she pulled off the nice soft sweat suit Miss Connie gave her and put all the other stuff on her, bending down to do up the tight shoes. After that she had to go with her to a big room and stand with the tall lady holding her hand too hard – it was the cut one with the bandage – where people shouted at her, hurting her ears, and lights kept going off and on, making her eyes sting. It was very loud and bright, then very loud and dark, over and over. She kept looking for Mister Brian or Miss Connie, but didn't see them or the baby anywhere.

With the lights and the yelling and so many people, she felt scared and had to work hard not to cry. The tall lady leaned down to her and said, ‘It'll be over soon. Just try to stand still,' then she gave Humaby a tiny little smile that was angry underneath. Why was she mad? And why were there so many people, all yelling and making the lights go on and off? None of it made sense. She only hoped she'd get to see the baby, the way Mister Brian said she might.

Then it got quiet and a man and lady came in. The old policeman from before said they were the mama and daddy of the baby. They held hands and started talking into a whole big bunch of what looked like gray ice-cream cones or big lollipops all pushed together on big stands, saying how happy they were to have their daughter back and it was all because of this special little girl. Humaby looked around to see the special little girl. Maybe the baby was there and she just couldn't see her because of all the lights. People laughed and more lights flashed off and on, off and on. Then the mama and daddy came over and the mama bent down to her, taking hold of Humaby's hand.

‘We're so grateful to you,' the mama said in a very quiet voice, holding Humaby's hand to her cheek. ‘I will
never
forget what you've done for us.' Her voice got all choky and Humaby could tell she was going to cry, so she pulled her hand free from the tall lady and patted the baby's mama on the shoulder. That made the mama start to cry really hard and all the lights started going off and on again. The mama stood up, then the daddy leaned down and spoke softly to Humaby, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear, and he was all choky too. ‘We're going to see that you're rewarded for making it possible for us to get Gracie back.'

Humaby asked, ‘Please, can I see the baby?'

He looked at the mama who was holding a cloth to her eyes now and shaking her head back and forth, saying, ‘I have to get out of here, Ben. Please get me out of here.' Then he looked again at Humaby and said, ‘We'll work something out. Thank you, dear heart, thank you so very much. You are a brave and clever girl, and we are forever in your debt.' Then he took the mama by the arm and some men in suits hurried away with them.

The old policeman got in front of the gray ice-cream cones and said, ‘Okay, folks. That's it. You, print people, we'd appreciate your convincing your editors to put this remarkable child's picture above the fold, so people see it first thing. And if you TV folks could persuade your producers to make this tonight's lead story maybe we'll get lucky and find her family. Thanks everyone. That's it for today.'

As the old policeman and some others held the yelling people back, the tall lady grabbed her by the arm and hurried Humaby toward a door, away from everybody. ‘But how come I couldn't see the baby?' she asked, craning to look back as the door closed behind them and the tall lady yanked so hard at her arm that Humaby stumbled and nearly fell. It was familiar treatment. Under her breath, she whispered, ‘
Hate you!
'

As predicted, the calls started coming in before the local TV segment was finished that evening. ‘The network news hasn't even aired and the lines're lit up like Christmas,' Captain Garvey observed to no one in particular as he paused in the squad room. How the hell they were ever going to sort it out was beyond him. All he could do was recruit more of the civilian staff for overtime, to help man the phones that were ringing nonstop, calls on hold on every phone on every desk. God forbid there was an emergency – nobody would get through. Meanwhile, they'd dismiss all the obvious whackos, log the information on those calls that seemed remotely legit-imate then, from those, they would filter out the ones that might be a fit. A massive job.

The next morning the applicants got the news from Margery Briggs, Humaby's social worker, who'd had a brief meeting with her overbooked superior to state her case. Her decision-making as to who might be best suited to provide temporary foster care for the child both before and after her surgical procedures was based on her hour-long exposure to the little girl when she got her ready and then accompanied her to and from the press conference, and on her prior acquaintanceship with Stefan Lazarus.

Brian and Jan were turned down as possibilities because Miss Briggs (who had made no home visits or – so far as Brian knew – interviewed any of those who'd volunteered to take in the child) declared that in her professional opinion Humaby would be a negative, possibly dangerous influence on Lucia.

‘Are you
kidding
with this crap?' Brian snapped, deeply offended.

‘I assure you, sir, that I am not kidding,' Briggs said, and put down the phone before Brian could argue with her decision.