Crazy About the Baumgartners (15 page)

I
whimpered when he eased out, his cock and fingers, and gathered me to him,
cradling my all-over-shaking body in his arms, holding me up when my knees
wanted to let go. He kissed my wet forehead and hair until finally our
breathing returned to some semblance of normal.

“Do
you know what today is?” I whispered.

“Christmas.”
He tilted my chin up, kissing me full on the mouth.

“No.”
I smiled. “Not yet.”

“It’s
my
Christmas.” He looked into my eyes and I drowned in his. “You’re my
best gift.”

“It’s
my anniversary.” I put my arms around his neck, stretching up on tiptoe. “My
first anniversary of working for you.”

“Ah.”
He smiled. “And now it’s our anniversary.”

I
startled when the shower door opened and Carrie stepped in. Her eyes were on
fire, full of lust, and I knew instantly that she’d heard us, had probably been
watching us through the foggy glass. We welcomed her, our twosome becoming an
instant threesome, Carrie’s arm going around my waist, the other around her
husband’s.

“Our
anniversary,” she said softly, looking up at her husband. He leaned down and
kissed her. Then she turned and kissed me and we were one, the three of us
together, a perfect triad.

We
spent a long, long time in that shower. I was the one who got out first, when I
heard the baby fussing, leaving Doc and Carrie to finish up. Holly was up and
ready to play by the time I got downstairs. Then she was hungry, and Carrie
wanted to feed her, so we all went out back to sit in the sun on the patio. It
was just like nothing had happened, except everything had happened. Everything
had changed. I felt it in the heat of our looks. We all had a secret.

But
thankfully Maureen Holmes acted as if nothing had happened when she dropped
Janie and Henry off, just like she said she would. She didn’t say a word to me,
but I didn’t expect her to. As long as she kept her big mouth shut to everyone
else, I didn’t care what she thought of me. She could call me a slut, she could
think I was immoral, she could pray for me, if that’s what she wanted to do—as
long as she didn’t hurt the Baumgartners.

The
kids couldn’t stop talking about the fair and how much fun they’d had with
Isaac and Rebecca and I let them prattle on while we made tacos for dinner. I
browned the meat while Mrs. B cut up lettuce and tomatoes and the kids grated
cheese.

“So
did they talk about God a lot?” I asked, interrupting Janie’s story about a
haunted fun house where the mirrors made her horribly fat—which was the
scariest thing in the whole place, she said.

“They
wanted us to accept Jesus Christ as our personal Lord and Savior.” The sarcasm
in Henry’s voice was unmistakable.

“Did
you?”

“They
said we had to find Jesus,” Janie piped up.

“I
told them I didn’t even know he was lost.”

“Henry!”
Carrie gasped, sliding chopped tomatoes off her knife into a bowl. “You
didn’t!”

“Well,
I said it to Janie.” He smirked.

“You
don’t have to be disrespectful,” his mother chastised. “Just say ‘No thank
you.’”

“Jesus:
Just Say No.” I grinned, scraping hamburger out of the sizzling pan into a
glass bowl.

“Henry,
check this out.” I reached into the fridge, grabbing an egg out of the holder.
“This is your brain.”

“Gretchen…”
Mrs. B frowned. She clearly know where I was going with this. But it was too
good to resist. I had to.

“And
this is your brain on religion.” I cracked the egg on the side of the pan,
letting it spill onto the hot surface, watching the sticky, clear fluid turn
white. “Or drugs. Take your pick. They can both do that.”

Henry
cracked up.

“That’s
my public service announcement for the day.”

“You
better eat that egg,” Carrie said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh
I will.” I picked up the pan, shaking the egg back and forth before flipping
it. “I seem to have worked up an appetite.”

I
smiled to myself at her knowing look as I got a fork out of the drawer and slid
the egg onto a plate.

“What
did you guys do?” Janie asked, changing the subject as she went back to grating
cheese.

“Oh
not much,” Mrs. B told her casually. “Watched movies. We went to Tony’s and had
some grown up fun.”

I
ate my fried egg, smiling as I remembered the grown up fun we’d had while they
were gone.

“Are
we going swimming with the dolphins again?” Janie asked. “The kids at camp said
if we accepted Jesus we could go with them next year to swim with dolphins.”

“We
can swim with dolphins with or without the approval of the Lord, Janie,” I told
her, putting my empty egg plate into the sink.

“Just
so happens I put it on the schedule for the day after tomorrow,” Carrie said,
rocking Holly’s bouncy chair with her foot when the baby got fussy.

“Yay,
Mom!” Janie cheered. “You’re the best mom in the world!”

“Gretchen,
can you hold her?” Carrie dried her hands on a dish towel, bouncing the baby
faster, but Holly wasn’t having it. She was in full-fuss-mode now. “My phone’s
buzzing.”

“Sure.”
I reached down and unbuckled Holly, picking her up. She quieted immediately.

“Hello?”
Carrie put her finger in her other ear, ducking out of the kitchen so she could
hear. The kids were now throwing shredded cheese at each other, laughing and
making a mess.

“You
guys, stop,” I chastised them, stepping between, getting a face full of cheese.

Henry’s
eyes widened, his jaw dropping, and then he burst out laughing,

“Come
on, your mom is on the phone.” The baby had grabbed a handful of shredded
cheese and brought it to her mouth, gnawing happily. At six months, she was
really ready for solid food. I’d have to show Carrie.

I
went around the corner, laughing at Holly’s expression of wonder at the
delightful taste of cheese in her mouth. She made gurgly noises as she tried to
suck it down. Her brain only associated taste and food with sucking.

“Carrie,
look,” I said, seeing her sitting on the sofa, still on the phone, Doc beside
her.

He
looked up at me, his face pale, eyes giving me a warning.

I
stopped, heart hammering in my chest. I knew who it was. Of course. Maureen
Holmes had decided that her husband would stand by her, that he would know she
was just possessed by the devil when she’d been sexually involved with the
Baumgartners. She had decided she couldn’t live with the filth and perversion
of the Baumgartners’ lifestyle and had called the authorities. That was either
Maureen Holmes on the phone telling the Baumgartners she intended to call Child
Protective Services, or it was a CPS social worker. I just knew it.

My
knees wouldn’t hold me and I fell to them, still holding the baby. Holly
squealed like I was taking her for a ride, laughing. Doc just looked at me, not
saying a word, but the more I searched his face, so stunned and shocked, the
sicker I felt. This was my fault. All my fault. Sound had receded. Carrie was
nodding, asking questions, but I didn’t hear what they were. Janie and Henry,
now back to goofing around in the kitchen since their supervision had vacated
their immediate vicinity, were just background noise.

“Okay,
thank you… yes, I understand… we will… please keep us informed… goodbye.”

Carrie
hung up the phone, putting it on the coffee table, and I hung my head, waiting.

This
was it. It was over. All the sweetness and love we’d shared the past few days
was decimated with one phone call. I knew it was my fault, but I selfishly had
hoped that this time, this one time, I could finally have something to call my
own.

“That
was… that was Holly’s social worker.” Carrie’s voice was hoarse, like she’d
been crying, but her eyes were dry. I realized she was looking at me, talking
to me, and I glanced up. It was so hard to look at her, to know how much pain
I’d just caused them, the two people I loved most in the world. I wanted to
die.

“Apparently
her paternal grandmother has… has come forward.” She cleared her throat, like
it was hard to get the words out. I looked over at Doc, but he had his head
down, in his hands, elbows on his knees. “She lives in Utah. I guess she didn’t
even know about the baby.”

“But…”
I couldn’t think. It wasn’t Maureen on the phone? It wasn’t CPS? “Wait… they
said she didn’t have any other relatives. When they placed her with us, didn’t
they say that?”

“They
said they were looking for other blood relatives, but they didn’t know of any
at that time,” she said, lower lip trembling. I saw her hands shaking. “This
grandmother has petitioned the courts for custody. She wants Holly.”

I
let the words sink in, like a knife to my belly, and I instinctively held the
baby closer.

“Well
she can’t have her.” I felt tears stinging my eyes at the thought of giving
this baby to anyone, ever. She belonged here, with the Baumgartners. This was
her family. She’d been with them only a few months, but she was happy and loved
and doing so well. Of course, the social workers would see that. The judge
would understand. He wouldn’t want to take her away from a family she’d come to
know and love and count on.

“Unfortunately,
she’ll probably win,” Doc said, lifting his head to look at me. His eyes were
wet. Carrie choked out a sob at his words, covering her face with her hands.
“Unless she’s a serial killer or something, the courts are partial to blood
relatives in cases like this.”

“But
you could fight it,” I cried, holding Holly so tight she started to squirm.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, isn’t it? You have her until a judge
says you have to give her back, don’t you? And the longer you have her, the
more time she has to bond, then the less chance there is a judge will say you
have to give her up. Isn’t that right?”

“And
the longer we have her, the more damage we do, if we have to give her back,”
Doc said sadly. “Think about it, Gretchen. Say we drag it out in the courts for
a year, two years, maybe three. Now we have a beautiful three-year-old daughter
who calls us Daddy and Mommy, who knows nothing else but our family.”

Carrie
was really sobbing now and Doc put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. It was wrong, so very
wrong. This baby had been born drug addicted, she was given back to her
abusers, and of course they did it again, torturing and nearly killing
her—and now she was safe, with a family that loved her, and they wanted
to take her back?

“What
happens when we’ve exhausted all our appeals, and a judge still decides she has
to go live with someone else? Now she’s a heartbroken three-year-old who
doesn’t understand why Mommy and Daddy are telling her she has to go away.”

“Noooo,”
Carrie sobbed against his chest.

“We
talked about this.” Doc rocked her, stroking her hair. “We said, if this
happened, we would give her back right away, so she wouldn’t get too attached.
This is for Holly, remember?”

“I
know, I know.” Carrie sniffed, drying her eyes, taking a long, shaky breath.
She looked at the baby in my arms and teared up again. “Can I have her?”

The
answer was clearly “no.” At least, as far as the state was concerned. Because
Holly belonged with some stranger in Utah who had never even seen her, simply
because they shared some DNA? I thought of Maureen Holmes. I’d been so sure it
was her. Had she prayed for us? Had she asked God to punish the wicked? I’m
sure, if Maureen ever found out, she would consider this our punishment for
living a life of sin. But as far as I was concerned, this was just more proof
that there was no God. If there was a God, he wouldn’t let things like this
happen. Ever.

I
stood, still shaky, and went over to them. Holly smiled when Carrie took her in
her arms—she knew her mama already. Doc and Carrie put their arms around
each other, around the baby, a cocoon, but I knew it was an illusion. Nothing
could keep them safe. Holly was going to be taken away. I heard Janie and Henry
in the kitchen, oblivious. The Baumgartners were going to have to tell them.
The thought made me sick to my stomach. They were singing
Jesus Loves Me
at the top of their lungs, changing the words to
Cthulhu Loves Me
. It
was a horrible sacrilege and Mrs. Holmes would have been appalled, but I was
pretty sure, if there was a God, he didn’t really care.

I
didn’t know if there was or wasn’t a God. I didn’t know if this was a
punishment or some horrible, random act. I just knew things would never be the
same again.

The
Baumgartners had generously given me my own laptop for Christmas, but the photo
software I had installed wasn’t anywhere near as good as the computer in Doc’s
office. He had Photoshop on that machine and his own laptop, but I didn’t want
to ask them to spend another gazillion dollars to put it on mine too, so I just
used the computer in the office.

It
was hard walking into that room. Holly’s bedroom. I thought of it that way
still, even though it had been months since she slept here. The walls were now
taupe, the mural painted over, the ceiling an off-white that was almost gray,
and Doc’s office furniture had been moved back in. It was an office again, and
all traces of the baby had been erased. Carrie and I had packed up all her
sweet, little pink baby things and boxed them. The social worker promised she
would give them to Holly’s grandmother. The baby furniture, purchased new, had
gone to Goodwill.

I
sat at Doc’s desk, turning on the computer. Poor Holly. The judge had ruled,
just like Doc said he would, to award permanent custody of the baby to her
paternal grandmother in Manti, Utah. I liked to think that maybe she was going
to have a great life out there, that her grandmother would love her and care
for her because they shared the same blood. But if being blood related made
people kinder to each other, Holly never would have come to us in the first
place.

“Gretchen?”
Carrie called from downstairs. “Are you coming?”

“In
a minute!” I plugged my camera in, waiting for the pictures to load, smiling as
Janie and Henry’s smiling mugs popped up, one after another.

Their
mother’s birthday had been a grand occasion so far, between dinner out and a
beautiful cake Doc had picked up from the local bakery. Sometimes I thought we
should stop celebrating birthdays once we started to feel old, because no one
liked them much anymore, except those who still were young. Carrie’s birthday
had been far more fun for Janie and Henry so far than it had been for her. Not
that she minded, I don’t think. She’d agreed to celebrate for them, because
they wanted it, not because she did.

I
loaded the photos onto the computer and then cleared the camera, making room
for more photos. We still had to eat cake and Carrie had to open her gifts. I had
to get pictures of that.

Downstairs,
Janie and Henry were fighting over which of them would get the biggest frosted
red rose on Carrie’s birthday cake. There was no age on it, just “Happy
Birthday, Mom.” We’d talked about this upcoming birthday and Carrie said she
was dreading it.

“Why?”
I’d asked.

“Because
it’s just one more year on the planet. And now every year, I’ll be thinking, I
wonder what she looks like now? I wonder what she did this year?”

I
just hugged her. There was nothing more to say.

The
Baumgartners had requested they be notified about Holly once a year—just
a picture, an update, something—but the grandmother had refused. They
never even met the grandmother so couldn’t appeal to her compassion or
consideration. A lawyer handled all the court appearances and paperwork, and
when the judge decided and we had to give Holly back, a social worker came to
the house to get her, later taking her on her first plane ride to Utah.

“Oh
Doc, do we have to do candles?” Carrie complained.

“But
if you don’t blow out the candles, you don’t get a birthday wish,” Henry said,
aghast, as if giving up your birthday wish was akin to death.

“Oh
all right.” She smiled indulgently, ruffling Henry’s dark hair.

“Let
me do it!” Henry grabbed the candles—a number three and a number
two—from his father, putting them on the cake.

“Oh,
hey, look at that, I’m twenty-three.” Carrie grinned, turning the cake to show
me. “I’m younger than you, Gretchen.”

“You
got them backwards, big guy.” Doc laughed.

“Oops.”
Henry flushed, pulling them out and reversing them.

“Get
the lights, Janie,” her father said.

We
all sang the “Happy Birthday” song, warbly and off-key, but Carrie’s eyes were
shining with love as she looked around at all of us. She was happier than I’d seen
her in a long time, and I was glad Doc had insisted we make a big deal of this
day.

“Make
a wish!” Henry insisted.

She
closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out the candles.

“Okay,
who wants cake?” She picked up the knife.

“I
want that rose!” Henry pointed at the biggest, fattest one and the argument
began anew. In the end, she split it right down the middle, which satisfied
neither child because compromise was just two people agreeing to something
neither of them wanted.

We
ate cake and ice cream—Neapolitan, because Doc loved strawberry, the
kids’ chocolate and Carrie vanilla. And me, I loved all three flavors mixed
together in the bowl, all creamy and melty in my mouth.

“Presents!
Presents!” Henry insisted, dragging his mother into the family room where they
were piled up on the table. All of them were from Doc, even the ones he took
the kids to the mall to choose, because of course he’d paid for them. There was
just one from me and it wasn’t on the table. She opened them all—new slippers,
Bath and Bodyworks lotion, a brand new juicer and more toys for the kitchen
like a rice cooker and a food chopper. She’d taken to cooking big, gourmet
meals, since she’d reduced her hours to part-time at the real estate office.

All
the presents were opened when Doc pulled another out of his pocket, handing it
to her.

“Oh
Doc, you shouldn’t have!” Carrie exclaimed, lifting the necklace he’d bought
her out of its box. “This is beautiful!”

“There
are three birthstones.” He showed her. “One for Janie, one for Henry, one for
Holly.”

“Thank
you.” She looked up at him with shining eyes.

He
took the necklace from her hands, going around the back of the sofa to put it
around her neck. Janie and Henry flanked her, watching their father with big
eyes.

“Because
she’ll always be part of our family,” Doc murmured, kissing her cheek as he let
the necklace dangle between her breasts. “Never forgotten.”

Carrie
put her hand over his, on her shoulder, for just a moment, squeezing.

“I
have something for you.” I stood, reaching for her hand, and she took it,
looking at me curiously as I led her toward the stairs.

“Where
are we going?” she asked, following me.

The
kids and Doc were just behind her. Upstairs, the hallway was lined with framed
photographs Doc had taken of the kids over the years. Carrie had gone a little
overboard with the amount of pictures she had framed and put on the wall, and I
teased her about “the gallery” but she claimed she always had such a hard time
deciding which picture she liked best, so she just framed them all.

“Can
you find it?” I smiled, squeezing her hand. “It’s like
Where’s Waldo
…
only it’s
Where’s Holly?”

“Oh
Gretchen.” She saw it almost right away. Doc had hung it for me before we left
for dinner, making room halfway down the hall, between the bathroom and the
office. I’d had to keep Carrie downstairs so she wouldn’t see him, which wasn’t
easy because she kept asking what “all that damned pounding was going on up
there.”

It
was a photograph of Holly and Carrie on the beach. Mrs. B was holding her
looking back at the camera, and Holly was over her shoulder, smiling in her
little suit and sun hat. It was the perfect lighting, the perfect moment. I’d
had it printed and had purchased a beautiful, ornate wire frame that spelled
out the word “Mother” at the top and “Daughter” at the bottom.

“Thank
you.” Carrie put her arms around me, tears in her eyes, which made me tear up
too.

I
whispered Doc’s words into her ear, “Because she’ll always be part of our
family.”

She
nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Okay,
can we make popcorn and watch the movie now?” Henry asked, grabbing his
mother’s hand and pulling her back toward the stairs.

Carrie
snuggled on the couch with the kids while Doc and I went into the kitchen to make
popcorn. Doc was the popcorn maker—he did it in a pan on the stove, the
old fashioned way with oil—while I melted butter and got out bowls and
popcorn seasoning. Everyone liked something different—white cheddar for
Henry, cinnamon sugar for Janie, sour cream and onion for me and Carrie, and
Doc was a purist. He loved it with just butter and salt. Doc and I had it down
to a science. We moved through the kitchen like we were doing ballet,
everything orchestrated.

“That
was a beautiful gift, Gretchen.” Doc moved in behind me with the hot pan,
shaking fluffy white popcorn into each bowl.

“I
was nervous. But I’m glad she liked it.” I started pouring butter in as each
bowl was filled. “So you’re really sure you’re not going to try again?”

“No.”
He shook his head, taking the now empty pan over to the sink. “Too much
heartache, like Carrie said. I don’t think we’ll be fostering any more babies.”

“How
can someone come into your life, spend such a short time, but you end up loving
and missing them so much when they’re gone.?”

“Love
is like that.” He moved in behind me again, this time putting his hands on my
hips, his lips on my neck. “We get attached.”

“Mmm.”
I leaned back against him, smiling. “Are you still planning to give her the
other gift tonight?”

“I
think so.” His lips on my throat sent goose flesh down my arms. “She’s in a
great mood. It’s good timing.”

“I
can’t wait.”

The
previews had ended and the movie had just started when Doc carried popcorn
bowls into the family room on a tray. I had a pitcher of Mrs. B’s homemade
lemonade and four glasses. We snuggled on the big sectional couch, Mrs. B in
the corner, the kids on either side of her, Doc on one end, next to Henry, me
on the other, next to Janie. When the movie was over, it was bed time, although
the kids protested. No one wanted the night to end—it had been one of the
best we’d had in a long, long time.

“Will
you tuck us in, Mom?” Janie pleaded, coming into the kitchen as we cleaned up
our popcorn mess.

“Sure.”
Carrie kissed the top of her daughter’s head before sending her down the hall
to brush her teeth. I went upstairs to my room and I heard the kids pounding up
to say goodnight to their father, something they did every night. They rushed
by in their PJs, but the Baumgartners’ bedroom door was locked.

“Dad?”
They pounded on the door.

“Just
a minute!” he called.

He
opened his bedroom door and came out to hug and kiss them goodnight. I watched
from my perch on the bed as they passed, waving goodnight to me, before he sent
them down to their room. Then he crooked his finger at me. I went to him and he
opened the bedroom door, leading me inside.

“Wow.”
I stared up at the eyebolts in the ceiling. He’d installed those days ago,
hoping Carrie wouldn’t notice and, so far, she hadn’t. Now there were two sex
swings hanging from them. “Fun!”

“I
can’t wait to find out.” He grinned. “Wanna climb in?”

“Now,
before she sees them?”

“Yes.”
He nodded. “I want you to be part of the gift.”

I
smiled, pulling my t-shirt off over my head. I loved the way his eyes lit up
when I did that. Doc had me strip down to nothing and then he lifted me into
the harness. It was all a collection of straps that went together somehow.
Thankfully, he knew what he was doing, because before I knew it, I was strapped
in, right at the perfect height for him to fuck me. He could swing me around
and I could hold the straps and lean back.

“This
is pretty amazing,” I said, wrapping my legs around him—he was still
fully clothed—digging my heels into his back as he leaned in to kiss me.
His cock sure liked them because he was hard as a rock. I wiggled into the
saddle of his hips, rubbing my pussy against the crotch of his pants.

“I
hear her coming up the stairs.” He broke our kiss, eyes bright. “Don’t move.”

“Like
I could?” I laughed. My thighs were strapped into the swing and I was hanging
so far off the ground, my feet didn’t touch.

Doc
opened the bedroom door, going out in the hall and closing it behind him. I
heard them talking but didn’t hear what they were saying. I looked up at the ceiling,
worried the straps and hooks might not hold, even with the T-bar and the
springs, but I trusted Doc’s building skills. He’d built the treehouse in the
backyard, after all. It seemed secure. I was tempted to actually swing on it,
like a little kid, but I didn’t.

“Doc,
what surprise?” Carrie laughed as he opened the door and he led her in, his
hand covering her eyes. He closed and locked the door behind her, pushing her
forward a few steps, judging the distance, looking at me hanging from the
ceiling.

“Ready?”
He slipped his other arm around her waist, his hand sliding up, not quite
cupping her breast.

“Ready
for what?” She laughed again.

He
uncovered her eyes and she gaped, eyes widening as she looked at me hanging from
the ceiling. I stretched out my legs, wiggling my toes, and leaned back, which
made my legs spread open like an offering.

“You
like your present?” I asked.

Carrie
groaned, already unbuttoning her blouse as she came toward me. Her gaze traced
the ropes to the ceiling, seeing the second swing hanging loose. She grinned
over her shoulder at Doc as she wiggled out of her jeans.

“Is
that one for me?”

“Well
it ain’t for me.” He laughed.

“Oh
look at you.” Carrie grabbed my thighs twirling me around to face her, making
me squeal and laugh. “You’re good enough to eat.”

“I
hope so.”

And
that’s just what she did, lowering her face to my pussy and licking my slit. I
moaned and spread wider, arching in the straps. Being in the swing was like
free-falling, a little scary and a lot exhilarating. The way he had me hooked
up, I could lean back, let the straps around my arms and thighs support me, my
head hanging free, while they did anything they wanted.