Losing Hope (30 page)

“But who took the picture?” I looked back over at Tremont, who had never left the doorway of the brightly lit attic.

Mrs. Monroe sighed and shook her head. “I don't know. I guess there are still too many unknowns.”

“Yes. There are. For one, where is Hope?”

“Sienna,” Mr. Monroe stated plainly, “I may not know the answers to all the questions you have, but I do know one thing. I do not have a grandchild named Hope.”

“You lie!” Dayonna suddenly sat up. “I have a sister named Hope! They killed her and chopped her up for cabbage stew. Somebody help me find my sister! They are going to kill me and cook me too!”

It was even more disturbing the second time around.

The accusations.

The confusion in her claims.

The screams.

Tremont broke from his frozen stance and rushed to Dayonna's side.

“Get off of me!” Dayonna screamed at the touch of Tremont's hand on her arm. “Get off!” She let out one last shriek before collapsing back into Mrs. Monroe's lap. I waited a few moments as she quieted down before asking one last question.

“Where can I find Crystal now?”

Mr. Monroe stared at me with sad eyes from the armchair under the attic eaves.

“I built this house for her, but only God knows where she is.”

Mr. Monroe was right. Only God knew Crystal's whereabouts and whether or not a girl named Hope existed. I left the house in Cambridge only half satisfied. On one hand, I felt like I could put to rest my unease about the Monroes and Tremont. True, the social worker in me knew that a lot of counseling and support would be needed in the coming hours, weeks, and days. Before leaving, I offered my continued support to them and respected their desire for personal space and privacy.

On the other hand, nobody could answer for certain who was behind the threatening texts, e-mails, and calls being aimed at me, Tremont, Second Zion, and even Ava, Sheena, and her connection at DSS.

Her connection at DSS. Roland Jenkins.

I tossed around ideas about his involvement but decided in the end he was just one of those people in the center of intricate connections. He wasn't a culprit, or even a co-conspirator, just a nosy, gossiping mouthpiece.

But someone in his path knew something, or it would not have trickled down to him.

“Who have you talked to?” Tremont had asked me that when the doctored photo first made the evening news, and his question had encouraged me to start connecting the conversation dots.

Only now I had talked to the entire city of Baltimore via the local news. Thinking of that reminded me that someone had texted Sheena my address.

I pressed the number one on my phone's speed dial. Roman. No answer.

I tried Officer Sanderson. No answer again.

“They must still be together,” I decided.

I started to call my mother, but I was not ready to talk to her or any of my family members.

“I am alone.” I thought about my dinner with Mother Ernestine Jefferson just a few hours ago, her wisdom, wit, and words of encouragement. “God, you're going to have to help me. Only you have the answers. Please guide my steps, and let me have peace.” My spirit still felt unsettled as I thought about Hope's existence.

Halfway across the Bay Bridge, a thought occurred to me that I could not shake. I pressed my foot to the accelerator. The closer I got to Baltimore, the more the thought bore into every thought I had. By the time I could see the twinkling downtown skyline in the distance, my plan was in place.

Why hadn't I thought of this before?

I tried Leon's cell. This time he answered.

He spoke before I did. “Sienna, I know it's late, but I have both Roman and your nephew with me. It's been intense, but we're making progress.”

“Oh, okay.”

He heard the pause in my voice. “What's wrong? Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I, well, I don't want to take you away from Roman and Skee-Gee. I'll just—”

“We're at your parents' home. They can stay here. Where are you, Sienna?”

“I'm on my way to a house in Govans. I need to go somewhere, and I would feel more comfortable about it if I wasn't alone.”

“What's the address?”

I gave him the street name and the number to the vacant home I had visited earlier, and he promised to meet me there in thirty minutes.

Because it was late and the traffic was light, I had made it back to Baltimore in just over an hour and a half. It was almost ten thirty.

I got to the house before him. Common sense told me I needed to wait for him. Urgency pulled me in instead.

I remembered that I kept a flashlight in my glove compartment and decided to use that as my weapon against the deep darkness of nighttime. Leon should be there any moment, I knew, as I entered the abandoned home's front door. I shone the light up the steps. The trail of trash and needles, and everything else, was still there.

“Hello?” I shouted.

Only silence greeted me.

“Lord, please let Leon get here soon,” I prayed as I started up the dirty staircase. I followed the upstairs hallway to the furnished room.

The door was closed.

I was certain that when I'd left the home earlier, I had not shut the door behind me. Maybe I needed to go back outside and wait, like any woman in a darkened, vacant home, with half a brain, would do.

I turned around to leave, but something caught my eye.

The doorknob was turning.

I had a single second to decide what to do: whether to turn and run back down the steps, or stand there and face whoever was coming out of the room.

Time was not in my favor.

I grabbed the flashlight into my fist, ready to strike if need be as the door swung open. Immediately, I aimed the light into the person's face, knowing that the direct bright beam would temporarily blind him or her in the darkness—and give me a chance to see who I was up against.

A woman.

Tall and lanky. Clothes disheveled. Hair matted. All skin and bones.

Strong odor.

She held her forearm up over her head, blocking her eyes from the beam of my flashlight.

“Crystal Rose?” My voice echoed in the narrow hall.

“Who . . . who is it?” Her voice was raspier than Dayonna's. She stumbled a little as she shook her head, still trying to adjust to the light.

She was high.

“Let's go outside to talk.” I turned the flashlight off of her face, a friendly gesture meant to gain her trust.

“Who are you?” she asked, barely able to keep her head upright under the lull of narcotics.

“I'm Sienna. I work for Holding—”

Before I could get out another word, she lunged for me, grabbing both my shoulders and pinning me against the hallway wall. My flashlight fell and rolled away, casting long shadows on the soot-filled interior. Now I was the one struggling in the dark hallway.

“Where is she!” she screamed, her face close enough to mine that I could smell her sour breath. I pushed back, but I had underestimated the strength and determination of the woman in front of me. She spun me around and grabbed my neck in a headlock.

“Crystal, wait! I'm trying to help!” I grabbed her wrists as she slapped my face, her breathing frantic in my ear.

“Tell me where she is!” she screamed, her grip around my neck tightening. “Where is Dayonna? I haven't—”

“Dayonna?” I gasped.

“I haven't seen her since the month she turned twelve! Where is she?”

“Dayonna?” I repeated. “Don't you mean Hope?”

Crystal shrieked and let go of me.

“Hope?” she whispered. “So she is real? I didn't just imagine it all?”

With my neck free from her grip, I darted down the hallway and grabbed my flashlight. When I shone it back on her, she was doubled over, as if in pain. A low moan escaped from her mouth.

“You have a daughter named Hope Diamond.”

“No. I don't know. Oh God, what have I done?” She was still bent over, her head shaking from side to side.

“She was born in April. Like Dayonna. Diamonds. Your April birthstone treasures.”

“Noooo.” Her moans were turning into sobs. Tears and snot dripped off her face as she began vomiting. “What did I do? I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”

“Why are you sorry? Did you hurt her?”

“No!” Her tears suddenly turned to hisses. “She lied! I wanted her. She should have been mine. She better not be dead. I was going to raise her! She was going to be
my
baby.” She started walking toward me down the hallway. I realized then that I had broken one of the cardinal rules of social work home visits. Always keep a straight, unbroken path to the exit. Crystal was blocking my way to the staircase.

And a piece of broken glass was in her hand.

“I'm tired of the lies,” she hissed. “I'm sick of the lies. Everyone keeps lying to me. Lies! Is Hope really dead?”

“She's not dead,” I said calmly, thinking quickly. Crystal was still approaching me, the glass in one hand. A used needle in the other, I realized. “Hope is not dead.”

The words reverberated through me.

A car motor rumbled outside. Leon! My heart leaped in hope as the motor neared the home. It sunk as the motor pulled slowly away. I realized that either it was another person's car or Leon was trying to make out addresses on the dark street.

I had to keep thinking on my feet.

“Crystal,” I said firmly. “You called me, telling me not to look for Hope. You've been texting people and sending e-mails, and all this time you haven't even known where she is?” I was thoroughly confused, but I had to keep talking.

“I haven't called anyone. I just want my Hope back. I was supposed to raise her. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes.” I said it with such certainty, I believed it myself.

I just knew I had to get out of that house without any broken glass or dirty needles blocking my way.

“Come with me. I can take you.” I watched as she hesitated, and then turned toward the stairway. The motor outside cut off, and footsteps sounded on the front porch.

That was when I made my move.

Without a second to reconsider my plan, I screamed as loud as I could and ran toward the staircase. I threw the flashlight at Crystal, trusting myself to remember my way out in the dark. She screamed, and all I could hear was glass crunching under my shoes and rats scurrying in the darkness.

“Sienna!” Leon's voice sounded so far away. But close enough. I ran toward it, but apparently, so did Crystal. Both of us ran to the front door and tried to push our way out.

“Watch out, Leon. She's going to attack!”

He grabbed Crystal just as she was about to swipe him with the glass in her hand.

“I want my child! I was there! I was going to raise her! Where is my Hope?” she screamed and collapsed into him, sobbing. “You said you knew where she was and that you would take me to her!” She looked at me, desperation on her face and in her voice.

“Sienna, what is she talking about?” Leon's voice was calm in the middle of the confusion.

The moment felt surreal as I stared up to the heavens. A streetlight cast a haze on the sleeping neighborhood. The only other light came from an upstairs light inside the house across the street.

The house across the street.

The blue shingled home with the large orange porch swing.

The house that had been in the picture of Dayonna.

The picture the Monroes said they found of her, taken when she had more weight on her, taken with her caught off guard.

“I do know where she is.” I turned to face Crystal and Leon. “I know where Hope is.”

“I knew you'd be back, but I didn't expect it to be this soon.”

Nellie Richmond looked at the three of us through the wire mesh of her front screen door.

“Can we come in?” I asked the frowning older woman. It was a little after eleven thirty, nearing midnight. “I know it's late, but this is important.” We'd just driven to her home in Chinquapin Park, Leon escorting Crystal in his car behind me.

Nellie hesitated but then finally unlatched her door. She walked away as we stepped inside. “Might as well get this over with.”

She sat down on a love seat as Leon, Crystal, and I took the sofa. A late-night talk show was muted on a television on the other side of the living room.

“This is Leon. He's a police officer who's been helping me.” I started with that statement to keep everyone's temper and actions in check. “And I know you already know Crystal Rose.”

Nellie turned up her nose but nodded. “We've met once. When she came pounding on the front door of my home in Cherry Hill.”

“Dayvita told me her baby was here, and I wanted to see her. Daymonica is
my
grandchild! You don't even know for sure that she was your son's,” Crystal yelled.

“You're right! You and your daughter have turned so many tricks, who knows what man contributed his DNA. But I'm the one who's been taking care of Daymonica since she was a newborn. I'm the one who's been up all night, feeding her, singing lullabies, nursing fevers, soothing colds! You've been too busy getting high to even raise your own children!” Nellie charged.

“You don't know anything about me!” Crystal screamed.

I was glad Leon was there, because I could tell these ladies were seconds away from a physical confrontation. I noticed that even he had moved closer to the edge of his seat.

“Ms. Richmond, I need to see Daymonica's birth certificate.” I broke through the growing tension, determined to keep the conversation on track.

Nellie eyed all three of us with disgust and then, after a long pause, walked over to a coat closet near her front door. She stood on her tiptoes, shuffled through something, and walked back toward us, a faded piece of paper in her hand.

“Here.” She flung it at me, then sat back down on the love seat, dropping her head into her hands.

I looked at Leon and Crystal, who both were reading the form over my shoulder.

The mother was listed as Dayvita Topaz. The line for the father was blank.

Crystal jumped to her feet.

“Hope?” She shook her head. “That cannot be! That's impossible! I was there when she delivered! No! It can't be!”

“Dayvita's delivery?” I looked at Crystal and Nellie. Leon had been absolutely quiet. Though I was certain he had no idea what was going on, I could feel his support surrounding me.

I was glad he was there for backup.

“Dayvita delivered her in a crack house, then dropped her off in front of a hospital, with a note that had the information for the birth certificate and a message that I was to be the infant's guardian,” Nellie explained. “She called me from a pay phone in front of the hospital and told me my new grandbaby was waiting to see me. I knew the moment I saw her little body lying in the NICU that Daymonica was
not
going to go into foster care, as far as I was concerned. The hospital staff welcomed me when I came to claim the newborn that had been left in front of the emergency room,” she huffed.

“But Dayvita did not give birth to Daymonica Hope Diamond, did she?” I finally voiced the growing realization that had been gnawing at me ever since I had first seen that picture of a heavyset Dayonna, standing confused, unkempt, surprised in the middle of a narrow street, which I now knew was Ivanhoe Road.

“Hope Diamond is Dayonna's child.” I looked directly at Crystal. “You must have run into her somehow and seen that she was pregnant. When nobody else knew about her pregnancy, you kept her with you for what? Five months? You thought that her baby would finally be the one you could raise, and nobody would know any different. But it did not work out that way.”

I shut my eyes at the horrid thought.

Dayonna pregnant at, what? Eleven, twelve?

There was a story there, if what I was asserting was indeed true. Teenage boy? Foster father? Consensual relationship? Rape?

Dayonna's fourteen years had been so tragic, who knew what secrets were hiding behind those piercing eyes.

Tears streamed down Crystal's face.

“Yeah, you're right,” she blurted, her high long gone. “I saw Dayonna one day, and I could tell she was pregnant. She was staying at an emergency shelter with a bunch of other kids when I seen her standing in the play yard. I could tell she did not even know she was pregnant. I got her to come with me, and I kept her drugged up enough that she didn't even know what was going on with her own body, or probably even where she was.”

“In that house we just left, right?” I asked.

Crystal nodded slowly. “How do you know all this?”

“I saw a picture of Dayonna standing outside of that home on Ivanhoe Road. She had a lot of weight on her, and I erroneously assumed that it was a side effect of the medications she was on. Then I realized it was not that she was overweight in the photo. She was pregnant.”

Crystal began trembling. “The night she had Hope was horrible. There was blood everywhere. Dayonna was in and out of it. I didn't even know what I was doing. I thought we was all going to die. I named the baby Hope 'cause we didn't. We all survived, and I thought I was finally going to have my hope fulfilled, my own baby to raise. But when I woke up the next morning, both Dayonna and Hope was gone. I never knew what happened. And I never realized that Daymonica wasn't Dayvita's. I rarely talk to that child of mine. When I found out she'd had a child named Daymonica, I never questioned it. I guess Dayvita's been so out of it herself, she hasn't been around to question it, either.”

“Where did you get the birth certificate from, Ms. Richmond?” I asked, gently prying.

“The hospital used the information in Dayvita's note to fill out an application, and it came in the mail to me.” The defeat on her face was heartbreaking.

“So all the hospital had was a note that was left with Daymonica when she was found outside of the emergency room.” I was trying to make sense out of all these new details. “Did the hospital give you anything else?” I asked.

The elder woman hesitated before slowly getting back on her feet and walking over to the coat closet.

“Just what was in this bag. I kept it all.”

She stood on her tiptoes, reached for the top shelf, and grabbed something. An old diaper bag was in her hand, and she sat it on the coffee table in front of me. I opened it, and the first thing I pulled out was a small sealed sandwich bag that contained what looked like a dried-out plant.

“What is this?” I held up the bag. Leon took the bag from me and squinted at it, turning it over and upside down.

“Cabbage leaves,” Nellie answered.

That caught my attention.

“Cabbage leaves?”

“Like I said, I kept everything. Apparently, cold cabbage leaves are used by some new mothers to help ease the pain that can come when their breast milk comes in. They stick the leaves right in their bras for relief. The discharge nurse told me that Dayvita had left them near the baby to help calm her down. They had the scent of her mother on them.”

“Her mother. Dayonna, she remembered the cabbage leaves.” I closed my eyes, hearing in my head Dayonna's screams about Hope being chopped up for cabbage stew. Between the drugs Crystal had pumped into her body, the sloppy delivery, and the cabbage leaves for her engorged breasts, the entire experience had to have been traumatic enough to mess up her mind, among everything else she had suffered through in her short life. I thought again about the cabbage leaves.

I went on. “Someone was helping her. Someone else knew about her pregnancy but wanted to keep it hidden, just like you did, because Dayonna did not show back up in the system for about another month and a half after she gave birth. Somebody had her, and just like you, they wanted to keep her pregnancy hidden. Nobody was supposed to know.”

Crystal's eyes were closed as she rocked slowly back and forth.

I reached back into the diaper bag. The contents that remained were typical newborn gear: a hospital-issued blanket, an impossibly small diaper, a glass bottle of formula.

“That was everything, huh?” I asked.

“Yes, that's it,” Nellie confirmed, her hands wringing in her lap. “Oh, wait a minute. There was one more thing that had been left with her when the hospital staff found her outside. I keep it in Daymonica's room. She sleeps with it every night.” Nellie heaved herself up and slowly plodded up the stairs. I looked over at Leon, who gave me a reassuring smile.

When Nellie came back downstairs, my eyes widened at what was in her hands.

A faceless crocheted doll.

“Elsie Monroe,” Crystal hissed. “She never did like me. She never wanted me around. I should have known she was behind all of this. I guess Dayvita had nothing to do with this at all. It must have been Elsie who dropped Daymonica off at the hospital, who managed to hide Dayonna right after she had the baby. It was all Elsie. For years, she told me she would help me get Hope back if only I'd stay away from her and my father.”

“Elsie knows about Hope?” I asked.

“I called my father the morning after Dayonna gave birth, when I saw that both her and the baby were missing. Elsie answered the phone. She told me then that she would help me find Hope, as long as I stayed away. For years that's what I done, only 'cause she seemed to be genuine. All this time, she's been the one keeping Hope away from me. She put her here with this lady and been lying to me the whole time.”

“You talk to Elsie?”

“We meet every last Friday of the month at Lexington Market. I only do it because she always gives me money and what I thought was updates on Hope's whereabouts. I don't have to turn tricks anymore to get high, but now I know she was just buying me out with lies. All lies.” Crystal's face hardened. “I'm sorry about your car window, but she told me that I had to stop you. She the one who told me about you. Sienna St. James, the woman who was trying to steal my Hope from me.”

“Hope was never lost,” I assured her. I assured myself. “She's been in good hands. We just had to find where she was so that we could keep moving on with our lives.”

As if on cue, a loud giggle sounded from the floor above. Nellie pulled herself up again and bounded up the stairs. Seconds later, Daymonica, wearing a bright yellow sleeper and her five-tooth smile, was in Nellie's arms.

“Hello, Hope.” I smiled.

The toddler looked at me and squealed.