Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 02 - Papoosed (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

“A child’s life is like a piece of paper on which every passerby leaves a mark.”

–Chinese Proverb

            Back in the cold chapel, Essie found her three friends playing with baby Antonio.  Fay had him on her lap, tightly wrapped in his blankets, gently bouncing him up and down.  Antonio seemed to enjoy the attention and the motion, and he responded with soft noises. 

            “What did you find out, Essie?” asked Opal, as Essie carefully shut the chapel door and rolled toward the group gathered around the baby.

            “Santos hasn’t heard from Maria,” replied Essie, “but he knows where she lives and where the front door key is.  He’s going to slip out the minute he gets a chance and go over and see if Maria is in her apartment.”

            “Maybe she’s hurt,” suggested Marjorie who was sitting on her walker, shivering. 

            “Yes,” added Opal, also on her walker, clutching her palms together in an attempt to warm her hands.  “Maybe that husband of hers got drunk and beat her up and then stormed out … .”

            “And plowed right into another car,” added Marjorie.

            “That’s all possible,” replied Essie with a shrug, “but it’s all just hypothetical until we find Maria.  So far, no one knows where she is.  Maybe she doesn’t even know that Gerald is dead.”

            “If she knew he was dead,” said Opal, “you’d think she’d return for Antonio.  There’s nothing to prevent her from keeping her baby now.”

            “I’m not so sure,” said Essie, as she turned her own walker around and sat on her leather seat and chewed on her lip.  “Maria is new to this country.  Who knows what she knows or thinks?  Who knows what garbage her husband filled her head with?”

            “True,” agreed Marjorie. “If that Gerald tried to convince her that he could take her baby from her or send her back to Mexico or any other crazy thing, that poor woman could be hiding … even if she does know her husband is dead.  Maybe she thinks that Antonio is safer with Santos.”

            “It’s hard to know,” said Essie, nodding to Marjorie’s thoughts.  She looked over at Fay who was having a quiet private conversation with baby Antonio and was apparently oblivious to the discussion the other women were having.  She wondered if Fay was at all aware of the serious situation that the child she held was in.  It didn’t appear so.  It only appeared that Fay and Antonio were having a delightful time in their own little world.  Fay cradled the baby in her arms and pushed the button on her wheelchair.  The device moved soundlessly forward and Fay glided around the outside of the chapel slowly, giving Antonio a ride and pointing to all the sparkly sunbeams that pierced through the stained glass windows.

            “I think we can probably return to my place,” said Essie to Opal and Marjorie.  “It’s been at least an hour since the bug man sprayed.”  She glanced at her wrist watch.

            “Yes,” agreed Marjorie, “and we need to get back before Antonio starts to get hungry.”

            “Which could be anytime,” added Opal.  “He’s a greedy little Gus when it comes to his protein drink.”

            “Let’s go, then.  It’s freezing in here!” said Essie, rising and grabbing her walker handlebars.  “Fay, come on!  We’re going back to my place!  Bring the baby here so we can tuck him back into his basket!”  Fay responded quickly and moved her wheelchair back to the three women.  She carefully wrapped Antonio’s blankets tighter and handed him to Essie.

            “Come on, little papoose!” said Essie to the baby. “Back you go into your carriage!  Sorry we have to hide you like this.”

            “I think he likes his basket, Essie,” said Marjorie, “At least, he never cries when he’s in there.”

            “You’re right,” said Essie.  “It’s probably the motion.”

            “That’s surely it,” agreed Opal.  The women tucked the infant inside the basket and gently closed the lid.  Then with Essie in the lead, they headed out of the chapel and down the back hallway, through the family room, and into Essie’s hallway. 

            As they passed through the empty family room, they noticed a commotion in the lobby, directly in front of the front desk.  One of the residents was sitting on the ground surrounded by staff and other residents.  A nurse was positioned at the woman’s head, her arm around the resident’s shoulders.  All of a sudden, the woman bent forward and heaved her breakfast onto the ground.  All the residents standing around moved back cautiously.  The staff nurse cradled the woman and helped her lie down.  She gestured for one of the staff to go and the young man headed out of the lobby.  Essie saw all of this activity with a sideways glance as she led her three friends through the family room and down her hallway.

            When they reached Essie’s apartment, Essie motioned for them to remain at the doorway as she entered on her own.  She walked around inside, sniffing.  When she returned to the doorway, she gave the “okay” signal and the three friends entered Essie’s front door.  Fay quickly removed the baby from the basket and motored over to the window with him.

            “I think the bug spray odor has dissipated enough, don’t you?” she asked.

            “I can’t say, Essie,” said Opal.  “My sense of smell isn’t what it used to be. But I still smell something.”

            “Me too,” added Marjorie.

            “Well, we’re going to have to put up with it,” noted Essie. “At least it’s warm in here.  Wait a minute!  I have an idea.”  She rummaged around in her desk drawer and brought out a small metal spray bottle wrapped in gleaming gold foil.  “Here!  This should do the trick!  It’s Christmas incense!  I won it at Bingo the other night.  It has frankincense and myrrh in it.”  She unwrapped the sprayer and pushed the atomizer on the top of the device.  Suddenly a heavenly aroma began to permeate the room.  “Doesn’t it smell good?”

            “If you say so, Essie,” said Marjorie.

            “Yes, Essie, I trust your judgment on smell-related topics,” said Opal.

            “What!” exclaimed Essie, placing the sprayer back on the top of her desk.  “You mean you two can’t smell all those lovely middle eastern odors wafting around in here?”

            “Not really,” admitted Marjorie with a sheepish grin.

            “Me neither,” said Opal.  “Is it important?”

            “What about you, Fay?” Essie asked her plump friend who had stationed herself by the window where she was showing Antonio the snowflakes that were drifting down outside.  Fay turned to Essie when she heard her name called.  “Can you smell the frankincense?”

            Fay took a deep breath, smiled and nodded several times.  Then she returned her attention to the baby.

            “There!” said Essie to Opal and Marjorie, “There’s someone else with a delicate sense of smell, just like me!”

            “My sense of smell is good enough to register when Antonio has filled his britches,” cried Marjorie.

            “Mine too!” added Opal.  “Besides, Essie, what any of us can or can’t smell is totally beside the point.  We need to get Antonio’s glove ready for his next feeding.”

            “You’re right,” said Essie, reluctantly.  Even so, she rolled around the room and sprayed the holiday scent all around her living room.  Opal and Marjorie headed to the kitchen where they began to prepare a new batch of
Vigor
formula in Antonio’s glove bottle.

            “Did anyone see who that was on the floor in the lobby when we passed through?” asked Essie.

            “It looked like Adele Anderson,” said Marjorie, “but I’m not sure.  Poor thing!  Do you think she got food poisoning?”

            “She was certainly heaving her meal,” noted Opal with a certain amount of disgust.

            “I saw a resident vomit this morning in the dining hall,” added Essie, “when I was down talking to Santos.”

            “Maybe it’s bad broccoli,” offered Marjorie.  “There was an outbreak of a bad batch of that several weeks ago.  It was on the news.  Remember?”

            “I do,” agreed Opal, standing next to Marjorie while they filled the glove, “but that was in Arizona.  There was never a report of any bad broccoli here.”

            “Luckily,” said Essie to them as she sat in her lounge chair and picked up her telephone book, “Antonio doesn’t eat broccoli.  So, I think we’re okay.”

            “You mean, Antonio’s okay, Essie,” replied Opal, primly.  “We would only be okay if we didn’t eat any of the tainted broccoli.”

            “Now, Opal,” argued Marjorie, “This is all hypothetical.  We don’t know that there’s any bad broccoli around.  We don’t even know if Adele has food poisoning.  Let’s just remain calm and not exaggerate.”

            “Yes,” agreed Essie from her chair, “Let’s concentrate on Antonio … and finding his mother.”

            At that point, Essie’s telephone rang.

            “Oh, no!” said Essie.  “No one ever calls me!”  She allowed the device to continue ringing.

            “Essie,” said Marjorie, wheeling herself over to Essie’s side from the kitchen.  “You can’t just not answer the phone.”  Opal followed behind, gesturing for Essie to answer.   She handed the glove bottle to Fay then rolled back to Essie.

            “It might be about Antonio,” Opal said, motioning for Essie to answer, “or about his mother.  Answer it, Essie.”

            “That’s ridiculous!” said Essie on the third ring, “No one knows I’m involved in looking for Antonio’s mother … at least no one who knows my telephone number.”

            “Santos knows,” said Marjorie.  Marjorie and Opal hovered beside Essie’s chair, encouraging her to answer the phone as they might encourage someone to capture a poisonous snake that was slithering around loose on the floor.

            “But he’s … ,” said Essie on ring number four.  “Oh, maybe it is Santos.  But he doesn’t know my telephone number.”

            “Essie, answer the phone!” cried Opal.  With a deep sigh, Essie cautiously removed the receiver and carefully put it to her ear.

            “Hello,” she said in a tiny voice.  She listened a bit then responded, smiling.  “Oh, Claudia, dear.  Hello.”  Placing a hand over the mouthpiece, she whispered to the other women, “It’s my youngest daughter.”  Then, returning to the telephone, she continued to listen to her child’s voice on the other end.  Soon, her face began to change from a warm expression to one of concern.  “But, dear,” she interjected to the unseen Claudia on the telephone, “I really don’t think I’m up for all that!”

            “What, Essie?” asked Opal, pushing in front of Marjorie so she could whisper in Essie’s ear and nudging her arm.  Marjorie shoved Opal out of the way and moved closer to the phone too so she might be able to hear what Essie’s adult daughter was suggesting that was possibly going to cause a problem for the four elderly babysitters.