Authors: Dorothy Phaire
Blind Delusion (34 page)
“That’s awful,” said the secretary, shaking her head, “Let’s pray somebody sees that broadcast in time. I know his family must be going crazy right now not knowing where their baby is. I still don’t understand why somebody would do such a thing. Maybe, his mama is just a scared teenager and didn’t know what else to do.”
“Maybe. I suppose that’s the most likely explanation. A kidnapper would have asked for ransom rather than drop the baby off unattended like that,” said Miss Shepherd, thoughtfully as she continued to rock the baby in her arms. “You’d be amazed at how many young mothers and even fathers drop their children at our agency or other designated safe places like churches because they can’t take care of their children. And since there’s been no Amber Alert issued by the police yet, parental abandonment is still a real possibility.”
“That’s so sad, Miss Shepherd,” said the secretary. “I pray somebody legitimate comes in and claims him soon.”
“Me too,” said the social worker with a faraway look in her eyes. “Like I said, once the Court has control of the child it’s a whole different ballgame. I’ve seen these situations turn into a major drama for the family when they try to get their child back. I hope it doesn’t have to come to that and we can get this little guy back home safely where he belongs.”
When the officer returned, Miss Shepherd laid the baby on an unused desk and zipped him up in a green padded snowsuit that she had packed in a large purse. She flung her purse across her shoulder and scooped the baby up in her arms. The officer grabbed the car seat from the floor. They headed out, thanking the secretary for contacting them right away.
Once outside of the administration building, Miss Shepherd fastened the baby in the car seat in the rear of the police vehicle and she and the officer sat up front. They next headed towards Children’s Hospital emergency room to have a doctor check the baby over. On route, Miss Shepherd speed dialed one of the Child and Family Services Agency’s most valued foster mothers, Mrs. Shirley Ann Turner who lived on 20th Street in Northeast Washington. Mrs. Turner had come through for the Agency on many occasions such as this.
Miss Shepherd knew she could rely on Mrs. Turner in a pinch without having to go through a lot of red tape. Mrs. Turner’s specialty was infants and young children. She hadn’t accepted any new foster children since her last young charge, an eighteen-month old baby with AIDS, had died during the summer, only two months ago. Mrs. Turner always got very attached to her foster children and was devastated after the sick baby finally succumbed to her illness. Still, Mrs. Turner didn’t hesitate to agree to take in the abandoned child left at the gates of Gallaudet University once the social worker had explained the circumstances. The social worker hung up her cell phone, relieved that Mrs. Turner had said to bring the baby directly over to her house after the doctor at Children’s Hospital checked him over. At least this baby seemed to be healthy and well-cared for. Mrs. Turner wouldn’t have to nurse another sick child, thought the social worker as she glanced back to check on the sleeping baby. Hopefully, the little one would be united with his real family soon, thought Mrs. Shepherd as she rode along in silence and tried to drown out the noise from the police radio dispatch.
B
renda had collapsed in front of Renee and Deek at the crime scene. Fortunately, Deek had grabbed her in his arms before she hit the pavement. He carried her to Renee’s car, where stretched out in the back seat she soon regained consciousness, only to begin sobbing into her cupped hands that shielded her face. Renee knew that Brenda was in no mental or physical condition to answer any more questions. There would be time for questions and answers later. Right now, Renee needed to get Brenda back home with her where she could rest without disturbance. She would ask Helen to prescribe a mild sedative or some Ativan so Brenda could at least rest for a few hours and then she might be able to think more clearly. There would be phone calls and arrangements to make later. Renee would be there to help her secretary take each step one day at a time.
Renee nodded her good-byes to Deek and took off for home. In her rearview mirror, she watched him walk back to where the fire marshal and one of the head firefighters had been talking. As she drove towards home, Renee felt guilty about how badly she had treated Deek at Sibley hospital when she found out about her pregnancy loss. She had lashed out at him simply because he was a convenient target. Her therapist and mentor, Dr. Helen Stone, reminded her that anger, grief, and guilt were normal, healthy emotions after a pregnancy loss. When the time was right, she’d apologize and explain to him that her anger was not directed at him but at her own failure to carry a baby full-term. Despite how Deek felt about her now, she knew he would do everything in his power to find the killer who had committed this horrendous, cowardly act.
Brenda sat on the white sleigh bed in Renee’s guestroom and stared out at nothing, her eyes transfixed and her mind a blank. She didn’t notice the soothing periwinkle blue walls that surrounded her or the sweet aroma of white tulips sitting in a clear vase on the nightstand. The moss green stems of the tulips stood sturdy and upright while she herself felt bent and broken.
“Would you like me to call someone to come over?” asked Renee, “your Mom or perhaps one of your girlfriends to come be with you?” In silence Brenda shook her head no. Then, she turned and gave Renee a faraway look as she spoke. “Do you really think someone kidnapped my baby? But why? Who would do such a thing?”
“Here, this might help.” Renee held out a sedative in the palm of one hand and a glass of water in the other. She didn’t want Brenda to dwell on the unthinkable. What she needed was sleep, then she could face whatever was to come in the morning. Brenda gulped down the sedative then swallowed a sip of water.
“This room has a private bath,” said Renee pointing to a closed door. “You’ll find everything you need in there—clean towels and wash clothes on the shelf, extra packs of unopened toothbrushes and other toiletries. Since I sometimes stay in this room myself, you’ll find clean nightgowns and a robe in the dresser drawer. Help yourself to anything of mine. I think we’re pretty much the same size. I’ll be in my bedroom down the hall. Just come get me if you need anything,” said Renee.
“Thank you, Dr. Renee” whispered Brenda, and lay down on the bed with her eyes closed. “You’re welcome, Dear,” said Renee and gently closed the door as she left.
Like Job and Elijah from the Bible, Brenda prayed that God would be merciful and take her quietly while she slept once the sedative began to take effect. She didn’t want to wake up and have to realize this was not a dream. Her husband was really gone. She didn’t know what had become of her child. Had he been abducted by kidnappers? Would they want a ransom? Why was this happening to her? Not even Veda or Cha-Cha, her best friends, could help her through this. She knew seeing her mother right now would only exacerbate things. Her mother would only deluge her with a thousand questions that she had no answers for. Brenda’s mind ran wild with agonizing thoughts as she ran down all the possibilities? Oh God, where was he? Was he somewhere frightened, cold and hungry thinking that his Mama had deserted him? Or worse, was her baby boy gone too, along with his daddy—his tiny remains somewhere lost in the rumble that the fire marshal had not yet unearthed? “
Lord, this is too much to bear!”
she moaned. She rolled over on her side and balled herself up in a fetal position. Her tears streaked the pillow case. Brenda forced her mind to drift back to the start of that day, a happier time when she awoke at five and began her morning routine as usual. She had found Baby Buddha asleep in his crib with milk stains on his chin. She recalled his fresh baby scent and the rosy-tint of his fat cheeks. She could even picture Jerome coming downstairs to breakfast that morning, wearing his wide boyish smile and kissing her gently on the lips. These were the pleasant memories that Brenda willed herself to think of as she finally floated into sleep.
Renee returned to her room at the other end of the hallway. It was past dinnertime but she wasn’t hungry and knew Brenda could not eat a bite either after what she’d just been through. She placed a Nina Simone CD in the player. The husky voice of the blues singer from her father’s heyday piped through the built-in speakers. She stretched out on the loveseat and let the music soothe her. Renee didn’t think she could feel any worse than she felt after her prenatal appointment but she was wrong. Her doctor said fifty percent of first-trimester miscarriages were due to blighted ovum condition. Was that supposed to make her feel better knowing that many other women faced the same type of loss as she did? Her OB/GYN’s words kept circling through her mind. “
Your embryo failed to develop from its fertilized egg. Nothing but an empty sac. No heartbeat detected. I’m sorry but you don’t have a viable pregnancy.”
It only takes a moment for things to change forever, thought Renee
.
At least that’s how she felt upon hearing her doctor say those words. As soon as she got home from the hospital that morning, she had put in an emergency call to Helen. Her psychiatrist talked to her on the phone for over an hour but nothing had helped.
Angel purred at her feet, then suddenly jumped into her arms. She stroked the Persian cat’s fur and looked into its slanted, green eyes. This was the first time Renee did not detect indifference or outright disdain from her former feline adversary. Angel had never climbed up on her lap to be petted before. Petting Angel actually helped Renee to feel better.
“Looks like we’re in this together, huh kitty?” said Renee, rubbing Angel’s coat. “He’s deserted us both. I suppose the only reason you’re being nice to me now is because I feed you Fancy Feast instead of those little dry pellets.” Renee let a smile escape her lips.
She had grown fond of Angel and it appeared the feeling was mutual. They were no longer competing for Bill’s attention. Angel felt more like her cat than Bill’s now. She held Angel close and felt the warmth from her cat’s thick, white fur and delicate bone structure. “It must be nice to have such a simple, uncomplicated life, Angel,” said Renee, talking to the cat as if it understood. “All you need to be happy is a can of tuna delight and a clean litter box, huh?”
“As for me, I want to share my life with a loving soul mate and experience motherhood before I die. What I get instead is an empty yolk sac and a husband who can’t express intimacy and doesn’t want to ever be a father. So you see now how good you have it Angel?”
Angel purred again on cue as if she wanted to soothe her owner. It helped. Renee knew she had to stop feeling sorry for herself. After all, Brenda had to be feeling a thousand times worse. As she sat listening to the music playing in the background and enjoying Angel’s company, she put aside her own disappointment at not being pregnant so she could be there mentally and emotionally for Brenda. This was no time to feel sorry for herself. Brenda was in a far worse situation and needed her support in the days and months ahead.
Renee knew that before this Brenda had always relied on scripture to comfort her and give her strength. Renee wondered if that would be enough to help her secretary now as the unthinkable had happened, something every parent dreads. Brenda’s tragedy was magnified by the sudden loss of her husband on top of not knowing if her child was also lost. Brenda often quoted one popular verse that said if we only have the faith of a mustard seed, we can move mountains. Renee didn’t know what verse from the Bible it was but she recalled Brenda saying it around the office from time to time. Renee got up and reached on the top shelf in the corner of her closet. She retrieved Aunt Clara’s King James Holy Bible then blew and wiped off the dust. They both would need to depend on faith now more than ever to see them through whatever blows life had in store for them next. But as for Renee, she feared she had forgotten how to pray or how to trust in God.
L
ater that evening on the same night as the tragic house fire at the Johnson’s residence, Renee was sitting at her writing desk in the anteroom off from her bedroom with Angel curled up at her feet asleep under the desk. She had just finished the last entry in her diary. Brenda was in the guestroom resting. Renee hoped the sedative that she had given Brenda had taken effect. Renee took out a few sheets of stationery and started a letter to her father. After only a few lines into the letter, she heard her bedroom door open and shut. Angel awakened and stared expectantly at the door. Just as Renee started to get up and go see if Brenda wanted something, she looked up to find Bill standing at the French double doors of her anteroom.
The first thing Renee noticed was his new, expensive-looking leather shoes. Her eyes traveled upwards to the tailored, navy blue, wide pinstriped suit, burgundy silk tie, and monogrammed shirt. He looked like a gangster or even worse, a replica of his business partner, Clifton Corbin Shaw. In Shaw’s case Renee believed that was one and the same thing. Not only had Bill consulted Shaw’s tailor but he also wore the same arrogant smirk on his face. He held a legal-size folder in one hand and a cognac in the other. Angel skirted out the open door. The cat passed Bill without brushing his ankles with her backside like she used to do when he usually came home. Obviously, Angel was a good judge of character and Bill’s disposition had drastically changed since associating with Shaw.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Renee with a distinct edge in her voice. “I needed you at the doctor’s office this morning,” she added, giving him a brief disinterested glance.
Bill walked up and tossed the folder on her writing desk. “Cliff suggested a divorce lawyer,” he said and waited, looking pleased with himself she noticed.
Renee kept her gaze focused on the letter that she was writing, without looking up at him. She knew he expected her to react to his announcement, but she did not react.
