Baby Please Don't Go: A Novel (7 page)

“She’d quit first,” Natalie said. “Then where would I be?”

“In the market for a more suitable nanny,” Lock said.

It was funny, Lock thought; the more Natalie disregarded most of his advice, the more he liked her.

“Don’t worry about my kids, Lock, I take care of the things I love,” she said.

“So do I.”

“So take care of me,” she said.

“Natalie, don’t push it.” But he smiled and was glad she couldn’t see it.

And he was crazy about her. To say he was enamored was an understatement. He began to realize she was becoming an obsession, and it reminded him of his previous cocaine habit—how it had become all-enveloping and infected every fiber of his existence. He knew he’d have to end it before it got out of control.
But good luck with that
, he thought. He was hooked, bad, and he knew it.

8

Lock knocked on the front door of the Mannheim residence. The day of their meeting had finally come, and he couldn’t wait to see Natalie. He had long since quit feeling annoyed that Witt had forced him to reschedule—the week he had spent away had been the best week Lock could remember in a long time.

Candice opened the door and escorted him into the kitchen.

Witt Mannheim sat upright at the breakfast table and nodded to Lock. He was about fifty, with a slight paunch, a round face, and a receding hairline. Lock took a seat at the kitchen table directly across from him.

Natalie, dressed conservatively in dark blue slacks and a matching sweater, stood by the range while a kettle boiled water. She offered coffee or tea; Witt ignored her, and Lock politely declined.

As soon as Natalie sat down, Witt spoke up. “I’ll take a cup, black,” he said. Natalie got up to get it. No flicker of the annoyance she must have felt showed on her face.

“I’ve been thinking about this interview ever since we scheduled it last week,” Witt said, pointing a finger at Lock. “The more I think about it, the more I find this whole thing intrusive. I don’t see the problem here. I never filed that report with CPS, my lawyer didn’t, and I haven’t been negligent. So why are you wasting my time? Where’s your problem?”

“I hate to agree with Witt,” said Natalie, “but—”

“You’re agreeing with me about something? That’s a new one.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Witt,” said Natalie, settling into a seat while sliding a mug toward him.

“Please,” said Lock. “It’s important for us to keep focused on the girls and why I’m here. I don’t know who’s playing games with CPS, but it’s not funny. Whoever filed the complaint is guilty of filing a false report to authorities. I could pursue it, but I’m not interested in wasting my time. I want to be able to walk out of here feeling confident your children are all right, and as of right now, I think that’s the case.”

Witt took a quick peek at the business card Lock had placed in front of him on the table. “What do you think of the importance of fidelity in the grand institution of marriage, Mr. Gilkenney?”

“Let’s stay on point, Mr. Mannheim. This is no light matter.”

Ignoring Lock’s caution, Witt continued. “Of course, I’ve flirted…harmlessly. Who doesn’t?”

“Everyone’s falling asleep, Witt,” Natalie said.

“Ask her about her yoga teacher,” he said. “He’s taught her how to bend her body into all kinds of accommodating positions.”

“That’s a vile lie, Witt.”

“I can guarantee you, knowing your wife is out somewhere with someone else hurts a lot.” Witt made a fist and tapped his chest three times. “Especially if you loved her as much as I loved Natalie.”

“I’m here to follow up on a complaint of neglect of your children, Mr. Mannheim,” Lock said. “That’s all. Let’s confine the commentary to that. No editorializing. It’s not helpful.”

“Don’t you want to see the kids?” Witt asked. “The sooner you see that they’re fine, the sooner we can get this over with.” He stood up, as if to end the interview.

Lock had seen all sorts of misbehavior during interviews like this. There was no way Witt was going to make him angry, not in his professional capacity, at least. But a part of him was fuming at the way Witt treated Natalie.
What do I think of infidelity?
he thought.
I think it’s amazing she stuck with you for this long
.

Witt stood over them, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

“I still have a few questions,” said Lock, looking up.
Play your power games, buddy
.
I’m not leaving until we’re done here.

“And I still have a few lawyers,” said Witt. “You can see for yourself that there’s nothing going on here that’s of any interest to your agency whatsoever. Admit it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to ascertain. And you’re right, what I need to do now is to see the kids—in the presence of you and Mrs. Mannheim.”

Witt exhaled slowly, then sat back down. He scowled at Lock and said nothing.

“I need to see them now, with both of their parents,” Lock said.

Witt shouted, “Candice! Get the kids.”

Natalie got up to top off Witt’s coffee. She flashed him a fake smile.

“I know you don’t read much, Nat,” he said, “but there’s a book by George Orwell—
Animal Farm
—all about Big Brother. Government control. No right to privacy.” He nodded toward Lock, then looked back to Natalie. “Well, right here, right now, you have an example come to life. Big Brother, right here, right now, in our kitchen. An anonymous government bureaucracy injecting itself into our lives and minding our business.”

“Wrong book, Witt. All assholes are created equal, and some assholes are bigger assholes than other assholes—that’s
Animal Farm
. Big Brother is in
1984
.”

Candice arrived with the children. Edwina walked in on her own, and Candice held Dahlia. Lock turned, looking them over slowly, carefully. He focused his attention on the four-year-old. Candice leaned up against the refrigerator, watching. Witt and Natalie watched Edwina approach Lock.

“Hello, Edwina,” Lock said, and his face widened in a warm smile. He got off the chair and, despite wearing a suit, sat cross-legged on the cool tile floor, eye-level with Edwina. “I’m Lock. You remember me. You gave me White-Mane.”

Edwina, now shy, stepped back and wrapped her arm around Candice’s leg, looking at Lock. Natalie and Witt watched the interaction.

Lock reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet of what looked like playing cards. He fanned them open and held them toward Edwina.

“Do you have a favorite color, Edwina?”

The child shook her head in reply.

“You don’t? Wow. My favorite color is green.” He removed a green card from the deck and held it up, arm outstretched. “On the front,” he said, “there’s a funny smiley face.” He showed it to her. She shifted her gaze from Lock to the card. “And on the back there’s a frowny face.” Both sides of the card were glossy and colorful, and glimmered with glued-on sparkles.

Dahlia let out a small cry and lurched forward precariously in Candice’s arms, reaching for the card. Candice jiggled the infant to quiet her. Witt observed quietly. Natalie watched Lock.

“Well, Edwina, if you don’t have a favorite color, maybe your sister does,” said Lock. “But she’s too young to tell us. Do you know which color she likes? We can show her that card.”

Edwina relaxed her grip on Candice’s leg. She glanced at her mother and then back to Lock. “My favorite color is red and blue,” she said, scanning the fanned-out cards. She took a step forward.

“Red and blue! Those are wonderful colors. And I have each one right here.” Lock selected two cards and held them toward Edwina, who reached out and took them. She stepped back to Candice, beaming and examining the cards.

“What do you say, honey?” Natalie said to Edwina.

“Thank you for the smiley faces,” she said to Lock.

“Thank you for telling me your favorite colors,” he said. “You’re lucky. You have two favorites and I only have one.”

Edwina grinned. “Dahlia’s favorite color is purple.”

“If I give you a purple one for Dahlia, will you keep it in a safe place until she gets older? We wouldn’t want her to chew on the card and eat those sparkles. They probably taste yucky.”

“Yes,” she said, holding her hand out expectantly. “Dahlia put my sneaker in her mouth. And Mommy’s phone, too.”

Lock gave her a purple card and put the rest back into his pocket.

Dahlia wriggled in Candice’s arms, wanting to be set down. Candice said, “No, Dahlia. I’m going to hold you.” The baby cried and wriggled more strenuously. Candice held tight.

“Which side of the cards do you like best, Edwina?” Lock asked.

Edwina showed the smiley faces.

“Feel better?” Witt asked Lock. “They look like we feed them? I have to get to the office. Anything else?”

Lock got up off the floor, brushed off the seat of his slacks, and returned to his chair at the kitchen table. He wrote for a moment in his notebook. He looked up at Witt.

“I’m finished with the girls, but there’s one other thing,” said Lock.

“You can take the girls to school now,” Natalie said to Candice.

Lock waved goodbye to the girls. Edwina waved back, and Candice took them out of the room.

“Okay,” Lock said. “Let’s get this drinking and driving business resolved.”

Witt gave Natalie a sharp look. “Thank you for exaggerating that, Natalie. Why don’t you go shit in your bonnet?” He turned to Lock. “I was cited once, three years ago. Kids weren’t with me. Blood alcohol zero point nine. What’s that, half a beer over the limit? No accident, no reckless driving, stopped for weaving. Pleaded guilty. Never did it again.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” said Natalie. “Never did it again…”

Lock made a note. “And a DMV check will bear that out.”

“You are correct, sir. You’ll see my record is spotless.”

“Driving while impaired with your children in the car,” said Lock, “is wholly unacceptable. Mrs. Mannheim has stated it’s happened and continues to happen. I can’t close a case if I think the children are endangered.”

“Mrs. Mannheim states a lot of things. My children are not in any kind of jeopardy, at least not from me,” Witt said. “And any further discussion, since you’re accusing me of being a serial drunk driver, will take place with my attorney present. Is that clear?”

“You have your lawyer. I have the District Attorney. We’re both well represented, so it’s probably not productive for us to be antagonistic.”

“Whatever you say,” Witt said.

Lock rose. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Mannheim,” he said. “There’s nothing else I need right now. This interview is over and I’ll be on my way.”

“I thought you were bringing a female colleague to examine the girls,” Witt said.

“I determined that won’t be necessary at this time. I’ll write up my report and submit it to my supervisor. You’ll hear from our office within ten days.”

Lock shook hands with Witt, who said nothing and immediately turned and left the room. Natalie watched him walk away. Once he was out of earshot, she turned to Lock.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Natalie said, “and even though Witt was surly, he wasn’t as obnoxious as I thought he’d be.”

“I’ve seen a lot worse,” Lock said. He stood up from the table. Now that Witt had departed, they let their guard down a bit. Their eyes met. There was a new sense of familiarity between them. Though they hadn’t seen each other in over a week, to Lock it seemed much longer. Thanks to hours upon hours of phone conversations, he looked at her through new eyes, and to those eyes, she was more beautiful than he remembered.

She took a couple of steps toward him and stood there, looking at his face.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” she said.

“Me too.”

Her smile grew into a grin. “What happens next?” she said.

“You mean with the CPS case?”

“No.” She lowered her voice. “With us.”

Lock looked down. He swallowed hard and spoke slowly and softly. “I can’t see how this can continue. It’s just not right. It’s too bad we met because of a complaint. Too bad we didn’t have a fender-bender and exchange contact information, then this would be fine. But that’s not how it happened. And for the girls’ sake, it would be better if things between you and Witt got back on track.”

Natalie winced at that. Lock wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder; he wanted to reassure her that, one way or the other, everything would be okay. He couldn’t do it. His eyes wandered around the kitchen while he searched for the right words.

“I have two hundred and sixty-two children to protect—not including Dahlia and Edwina—and I don’t trust anyone but myself to do it as well as I do. That’s one reason why I don’t dare risk my job.”

“Don’t say that,” Natalie said. She took a step closer to Lock and reached out and took his hand in hers. She squeezed. He gently pulled it away. Her shoulders slumped.

“All that we know about each other?” she said, inhaling deeply and standing up as tall as she could. She leaned her head in a few imperceptible inches closer to him. “You think you can erase that, Lock? I don’t believe you can.”

“Well,” he said, “believe it. I know you’re amazing, Natalie, I know that in my heart. The children I care for have to come first.”

“But—”

“You shouldn’t call anymore,” he said. “This is goodbye, and I don’t say that lightly.”

Lock’s eyes burned. He wanted to hug her, hold her, kiss her cheek, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Instead, he gathered his things and tried to smile.

Natalie said nothing. Lock gave her a slight nod, turned, and walked to the door leading to the driveway. He opened it.

“I really wish you wouldn’t leave,” she said.

He stepped through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

As Lock drove off, he looked over the house at the magnificent tree in the back yard. An image of Witt’s sneer came to his mind’s eye. He felt the impulse to storm back into the house and hit him. Witt was everything Natalie had described and more. He ruined things because he could, because he owned them. Like the tree, and like Natalie. Both of them would wither, unable to get what they needed to live, and now Lock would, too. He was doing the right thing, but he knew that people who said what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger just hadn’t suffered enough. A lot of the time, a deep enough hurt could cripple you. It had happened before, and now it was happening again, to him and to Natalie.

The more he thought about it, the more angry Lock became. He drove recklessly, hating that Witt had made him an accomplice in hurting Natalie. When he was a kid, sometimes Lock had experienced a rage he couldn’t control, but this wasn’t one of those times. He was older now, wiser, he supposed, but at that moment he wished he hadn’t outgrown his anger. It had always frightened him after the fact, even when he was young, but in the midst of it, when the world turned red after he suffered some perceived injustice, there had been a savage joy, a feeling of pure abandon.