Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 02 - Papoosed (12 page)

            “Because Gerald is … was … a dog,” she said with scorn.  “No woman in her right mind would marry him.  Oh, yeah, he was good lookin’ and all, but … . Hey, I can’t talk anymore.  Mr. Rose is heading this way.”  She hung up abruptly.

            Essie pondered the treasure trove of information she had just acquired from the receptionist at Rose Brothers’ Construction Company.  There was clarity now on some issues.  Gerald Compton apparently was the no-good jerk that Maria had told Santos he was.  Why had she married him in the first place?  Was it just physical attraction? Gerald and his father Harold both worked at Rose Brothers’ Construction and neither were liked, although both were hard workers.  Gerald and his father had had some heated arguments about a woman … apparently Maria, but no one at Rose Brothers seemed to think that Gerald was married.  Curious and more curious.  However, the major question … where was Maria? … remained unanswered.

Chapter Thirteen

“I thought I had forgotten how to hold a baby–but my arms remember.”

–Author Unknown

            Essie was still sitting in her lounger pondering the relationship between Gerald and Maria Compton.  She could see through her bedroom door.  Baby Antonio was still sleeping soundly.  There was a soft knocking on her front door.  Essie rose as quickly as her arthritic knees would allow and hastily moved her walker towards the door where she cracked it open a bit.

            Outside, Santos stood in his winter jacket, his hand raised to knock again.  He was bouncing from one foot to another as he looked cautiously around.

            “Jumpin’ Juniper!” whispered Essie, “Get in here!”  She motioned the young man to enter.  Santos followed Essie inside and quietly closed the door behind him.  She scooted back to her chair and plopped back down, pointing to her sofa.  Santos remained standing.

            “I cannot stay, Miss Essie,” he said, nervously twisting his hands together.  “I must get back to make lunch.  Is baby okay?”  He looked around Essie’s small living room.

            “Antonio’s fast asleep, Santos,” she replied, “on my bed.  Do you want to see?”  She started to rise.  Santos held out his hand to stop her.

            “No! No! Miss Essie!” he said quickly, “I must hurry.  I go to Maria and Gerald’s apartment, like you say.  I find key where Maria keeps it.  I go inside.”  He grimaced and panted dramatically.

            “What, Santos?” Essie demanded.  “What happened?”

            “Horrible, Miss Essie!” he exclaimed.  “Everything in apartment is all … how you say? …
arrancados
… ripped!  Like there was a big fight!”

            “Oh, no!” she cried, patting a spot for Santos on her sofa.  The young man cautiously sat on the flowered settee. “Any sign of Maria?”

            “I do not see Maria,” he replied, “but I find
sangre
… blood … on the carpet, Miss Essie!”

            “Blood! Why weren’t the police there?” she asked, almost to herself.  “You’d think the police would attempt to check out the residence of an accident victim … hmmm.”

            “No police, Miss Essie!” said Santos.  “But I do find this!”  He reached under his jacket and into his side pants’ pocket and brought out a small blue wallet.  He thrust it at Essie.

            “What’s this?” she demanded, taking it immediately and opening it.  “It’s Maria’s!  This is her green card, Santos!  Why would she leave without her purse?  Do you remember if she had it when she brought you the baby last night?”  She examined the card and the remaining meager contents of the small wallet and then placed it on her end table.

            “I do not remember, Miss Essie,” he said. “I only think about baby Antonio.”

            “Yes, yes,” she replied.  “She must have returned to her apartment after she came here and gave you the baby.  She probably had some sort of argument with Gerald then.  If she left her purse and identification in her apartment, she probably left in a hurry … maybe under threat.  Did you see anything else in the apartment, Santos?”

            “I … I … see,” he said, closing his eyes squeezing his forehead muscles together in an attempt to recall the scene.  “I see Maria’s
maleta
… suitcase … on bed!”

            “She was probably packing … getting ready to leave Gerald!” added Essie.

            “If Gerald catch her leaving him, he be very mad, Miss Essie!” said Santos. 

            “It appears that Maria must have escaped,” suggested Essie, as the two unlikely sleuths contemplated together the possible events that led to their being responsible for the sleeping baby in the next room. 

            “Yes, Miss Essie,” agreed Santos, “and maybe Gerald, he goes after Maria.”

            “And in his fury ended up in that fatal accident!”

            “Is possible,” noted Santos.

            “But still conjecture,” said Essie, “However, I have some additional information to add that might enlighten the information you’ve just brought me.”  She told Santos what she had discovered from the receptionist at the Rose Brothers’ Construction Company.  The young Hispanic man and the old woman continued to discuss the possible scenarios that might have led to the circumstances of the previous evening.

            “All of these are possible,” said Essie to Santos, who was still looking forlorn.  “But, they don’t answer the primary question which is where Maria is.  Santos, if we don’t find Maria soon … and I emphasize soon … we will simply have to inform the authorities.  If for no other reason than it appears that no one is aware of Maria’s disappearance.  What if Gerald hurt her and she ran away and then collapsed from her injuries?  She could be lying in a ditch somewhere.”

            “I do not think of that, Miss Essie,” replied Santos, now looking even more frightened.  “I only worry why Maria not come to get baby.  I do not think she is hurt.  What we do, Miss Essie?”

            “If we report her disappearance to the police …” mused Essie.

            “No, Miss Essie!” cried Santos.  “Please!  I promise Maria I not tell authorities.  I promise I keep baby Antonio safe till she comes back.”

            “But when, Santos?” asked Essie.  “You didn’t promise to watch him indefinitely.”

            “I do not know what to do,” cried Santos, hands rummaging in his pants’ pockets.

            “Listen,” said Essie, bending forward and patting the young man’s arm.  “I … I mean, we … will watch baby Antonio.  My friends and I … we’ve developed a system, actually, so it’s really not a problem.  But we can’t do this much longer … for Antonio’s sake, Santos!  This baby needs care from a parent not from four old women … even if we are four incredibly able old women who were all mothers at one time.”

            “You wonderful lady, Miss Essie,” said Santos warmly, grasping her hand and squeezing it.  “You and Miss Opal and Miss Marjorie and Miss Fay.  You very nice ladies.  You very good mothers one time, I think.”  He smiled at her.

            “Well,” she said, shirking her shoulders, “it isn’t hard to be a good mother to baby Antonio.  He’s probably the most easy-going, agreeable infant I’ve ever encountered.  My three children were a lot fussier than he is when they were newborns!”  She chuckled and Santos joined her. 

            “I go now, Miss Essie,” he said, starting to rise from the sofa.  “I need to get lunch ready for residents of Happy Haven.  You come to lunch, Miss Essie?”

            “I’ll be there some time after my three partners in crime get here to babysit,” she said.  A soft cry sounded and Essie rose and pushed her walker toward the bedroom.  “My charge calls.”

            Santos remained seated as Essie entered her bedroom.  Baby Antonio was awake but apparently entranced with the rays of sunlight bursting through Essie’s bedroom window.  He had flung his towel blankets off and was moving his arms and legs with gusto.  She scooped Antonio up and slipped him into the walker basket and wheeled him back to the living room over to Santos.

            “Very happy baby!” said Santos.  “Not like father!”

            “Yes,” agreed Essie.  “Here, Santos.  You hold your charge for a while.”  She bent over the handlebars of her walker and pointed to where Santos should place his hands.  Carefully, Santos slipped his arms beneath the baby’s neck and bottom and scooped him gently into his arms.  “You’re a natural!”

            “Baby smells very good!” announced Santos.

            “That’s all the creams and powders we’ve been dousing him with,” replied Essie.  “Believe me, there are times when he doesn’t smell so good!”  Santos laughed and rocked Antonio back and forth.  The baby stared up at Santos unwaveringly with big dark eyes.

            “Talk to him,” said Essie.

            “Hello, baby Antonio,” whispered Santos in a soft voice.  “I’m Santos.  I am very sorry I cannot find your mama.  I try very hard.  Miss Essie and friends try very hard.  We try to find your mama.”  He said these words with a sincere intensity that Essie found moving.  Obviously the baby could not understand the meaning, but probably could feel the commitment and love from the young man.

            “I think he likes you,” noted Essie, as baby Antonio made soft noises and moved his head a bit. 

            Santos and baby continued to bond for a few more precious moments.  Then, Santos eventually placed the infant back in Essie’s walker basket and rose from her sofa and headed for her door.

            “Thank you, Miss Essie,” he said, hand on doorknob.  “I keep try to find Maria.  I talk to you at lunch.”

            “Yes,” she replied, straightening the baby’s covers in the basket.  “I will keep trying to track her down too, Santos.  Maybe something in her little purse will provide a lead.  I’ll let you know what I find, if anything, at lunch.  Please keep your chin up.”  She tucked the small wallet in her pants’ pocket.

            “Chin?” asked Santos, suddenly grasping his face.  “Is chin down?”

            “It’s just an expression,” replied Essie, smiling at Santos, “It means don’t lose hope.”

            “Santos’ chin is very up, Miss Essie!” he said with a jaunty thrust of his chin as he headed out her door. 

            “Good,” replied Essie to herself.  “Now, if I can just keep my chin up!”

Chapter Fourteen

“There is nothing in the world of art like the songs mother used to sing.”

–Billy Sunday

            Essie remained in her room when she would normally go to lunch.  Her stomach was rumbling because she hadn’t eaten much breakfast.  She thought how used to eating at a certain time of day she had become and even having to wait an additional half an hour was making her uncomfortable.  Finally, Marjorie, Opal, and Fay arrived at her door, already having rushed through their meals.

            “Where is my little papoose?” squealed Marjorie, with a shake of her bouncy curls, when the three women had gathered inside Essie’s small living room. 

            “Yours?” replied Opal with a regal glare at Marjorie, rolling into Essie’s kitchen and automatically starting to prepare new glove bottles for Antonio.  “Don’t you mean ours, Marjorie?”

            Essie wheeled her walker into the bedroom to get the baby and quickly returned with the infant in her basket.  Fay motored her wheelchair over to Essie and reached in and quickly scooped up Antonio into her lap.  She immediately started to cuddle him.  As she hummed a soft lullaby the little boy responded with a wide-eyed stare at Fay’s face.

            “I didn’t know Fay could sing,” called out Opal from the kitchen. 

            “She’s humming, not singing,” replied Marjorie, now seated on the sofa. “Essie, you’d better get going if you want any flounder.  It’s the special of the day and almost everyone ordered it.”

            “I don’t care what I eat,” said Essie, heading for the door, “as long as I get something.  You three be careful and keep the noise down.  Clara Monroe was complaining to me that she could hear a lot of sound from my place.  She thinks I have visitors.”

            “Did she mention a baby?” asked Opal, looking up at Essie from her formula preparation efforts. 

            “Yes,” replied Essie at the door, “but, I think she just thinks I have an apartment full of guests.”

            “You do,” responded Marjorie with a twinkle in her eye, “three adults and one child! You’re a regular motel!”

            Essie chuckled, and then shook her finger at her friend.

            “It’s not funny, Marjorie,” she scolded.  “Clara is a pest and I wouldn’t put it past her to cause trouble for us.”

            “You’re right, Essie,” agreed Opal, solemnly, her long, aquiline nose lifted.  “We’ll be as quiet as possible.  But, we can’t do much about Antonio.  Babies cry.  There’s not much you can do about that!”

            “I know,” said Essie, “but try to attend to his needs as soon as possible so he doesn’t want to cry!”

            “We have Fay for that!” exclaimed Marjorie, totally undeterred by the criticism.  “She’s a pro at calming babies!”  And truly it was so, as all three women glanced at Fay who was engaged in some private silent conversation with Antonio by Essie’s outside window.

            Essie shrugged and headed out of her apartment and down her hallway.  She felt comfortable entrusting Antonio’s care to her friends.  They all obviously had bonded as much with the little boy as she had.  One infant was no match for four old ladies, she reasoned.  Even if the relationship had to remain on the Q.T.  Essie moved into the family room, around the tall Christmas tree, and into the lobby.  As it was lunch time, the lobby was filled with residents and visitors.  Some people were sitting and chatting in front of the fireplace.  Some were walking through the lobby going in or out of the facility.  A line of three or four people stood at the front desk which was at the moment manned by Phyllis who was festively attired in a bright green sweater with red buttons.  Phyllis was answering questions from a lady at the head of the line about her mother who apparently was a Happy Haven resident.

            “No, ma’am,” Phyllis was saying.  “I don’t know where she might be.  You could check the community room upstairs.”

            “She’s usually in her apartment at this time,” replied the worried woman.

            “She might be in the dining hall having lunch,” offered Phyllis, her genuine smile topped by her rich brown eyes.

            “No, I checked there,” said the woman, now becoming somewhat unnerved.

            Essie noted this dialogue as she passed by on her way to the dining hall.  She knew that the woman would eventually find her mother because, although Happy Haven was large, there were only so many places where residents could go.  It was unlikely that any resident would venture outside for long on a day like today.  She glanced out the main double doors of the facility as she rolled on.  Snow was not just drifting down, it was now blowing, and she could hear the wind howling even from the lobby.  She was glad to be inside and glad that baby Antonio was safe inside, but she couldn’t help but worry about the location of the infant’s mother.  What had happened to her?  Had her husband beaten her?  Had she run out and gotten lost or fallen and been unable to get to safety?  Where could she be?  Essie hoped that Maria was not stranded outside in this increasingly foul weather.

            As she entered the dining hall, she heard Phyllis now speaking to the next person in line.  Their conversation was also about the visitor’s mother … something about the mother being sick in her room and needing additional care.  This was also a common situation and families frequently adjusted a resident’s care status when the person’s health needs changed. 

            Essie rolled her walker to her regular table and sat at her spot.  It seemed lonely without Opal and Marjorie and Fay.  Essie preferred to eat her meals with company, and at this late point in the lunch period, most residents had already finished their meals and had returned to their rooms.  She glanced around.  Several residents remained at their tables sipping beverages.  A waitress quickly brought Essie a menu and she pointed to the flounder, hoping there was still some of the favorite dish remaining.  Soon, her meal arrived and she ate quietly.  She caught a glimpse of Santos several times and he seemed busy so she refrained from signaling him.  Indeed, she had nothing new to report to him so she merely sat and sipped her coffee for a few minutes before she returned to her room.

            “Miss Essie,” said a male voice.  She looked up to see Hubert Darby standing beside her, sporting a new festive vest.  Did the man have an outfit for every one of the twelve days of Christmas?  “Miss Essie, did you like my present?”

            “Oh, Hubert,” replied Essie, “that was a lovely thought, but I really can’t eat hard candy with my … uh … dentures, so I haven’t actually opened your present yet.”  She smiled warmly at the man.  Maybe if Hubert knew she wore dentures, Essie reasoned, he’d cool his apparent ardor.

            “Please, Miss Essie,” continued Hubert, evidently undeterred by her dental condition, “please open my gift.”  He lifted up and down on his heels in a nervous gesture and then abruptly turned and walked purposefully out of the dining hall.  Essie shrugged and returned to her coffee.  She had barely had a moment of peace when another voice interrupted her meal.

            “Essie,” said Violet Hendrickson, “I’m glad I ran into you.”

            Essie stared up at the Happy Haven Director looming over her, armed with a clipboard and pen as if they were weapons. 

            “Miss Hendrickson,” said Essie, cringing.  This was not a good situation.  Violet had discovered Essie seated in the dining hall, making it difficult for Essie to make a quick getaway as she had the other day when she’d used her weak bladder as an excuse to avoid the director.  “So nice to see you.”

            “Essie,” said Violet, glaring over the top of her clipboard, her golden earrings gleaming like armor around her face.  “Clara Monroe came to see me, concerned that you are having loud visitors in your apartment.”

            “What?” sputtered Essie, spilling some of her coffee on her lap.  “She actually went and complained to you?”  Essie knew Clara was a busybody and a buttinsky but she’d only thought the woman was annoying.  Essie didn’t really think Clara would go to Violet and make a fuss.  Essie assumed Clara was as intimidated by Violet as she–and everybody else at Happy Haven–was.  This was not a good development. 

            “Yes,” continued Violet, tapping her pen with a vengeance on her clipboard, “Clara says she can hear a crowd of people in your apartment at all hours of the day and night!”

            “Oh, Miss Hendrickson,” exclaimed Essie, “that’s absolutely not true!  I don’t know where Clara is getting such ideas!”

            “Have you been entertaining a noisy crowd of people in your apartment, Essie?” demanded Violet.  Even though Violet’s voice was soft, it was insistent, and the few remaining diners had now turned to see what was going on at Essie’s table.

            “Of course not, Miss Hendrickson!” replied Essie.  “Oh, I know what it must be!” she fabricated quickly.  “I did have my tablemates over last night.  We were … uh, working on a surprise present for one of the residents … but I don’t believe we were terribly loud.”

            “Clara says she hears many loud voices late at night!  Even children! Infants!  Have you had relatives staying with you, Essie?”  Violet’s eyes were like those of a hypnotist’s, and Essie could feel herself being drawn into her power.  It was not against Happy Haven policy to have overnight guests, but if guests became so rowdy that they disturbed a resident’s neighbors, they would be asked to leave.

            “Oh, no, Miss Hendrickson!” said Essie, her face becoming red.  “All of my relatives live in or near Reardon.  There’s no need for any of them to spend the night with me!”  She looked down at the ground to break the threatening spell that the heartless administrator was weaving.

            “No children?  No infants?” pushed Violet, stabbing her pencil at Essie.

            “I know!  My tablemates and I were watching that new reality show last night about the family with twenty children.  Can you imagine a woman giving birth to twenty babies?  I had three and that was more than enough for me! There were lots of children and infants on the show.  That’s probably what Clara heard!”  Essie laughed pitifully and glanced up over her glasses to see if Violet was buying her story.

            “Humph!” said Violet, continuing to tap her pencil on her crossed arms.  She fingered one of her gold earrings as if it were a beetle she was contemplating squashing, and took a deep breath.  “I don’t know what you’re up to, Essie Cobb, but mark my word; I’m going to find out!”  She said this last part in a whispered snarl.  Then, she turned abruptly and stormed out, her high heels clipping on the linoleum floor.

            “Sue’s gnus!” said Essie to herself.  She glanced around and gave a friendly shrug at the residents who had witnessed this little conversation–as if to say, ‘show’s over, folks!’  The last thing Essie needed was for the Happy Haven Director to get her dander up about her activities and start investigating.  If Violet came by Essie’s apartment unannounced and demanded to come inside, she would find baby Antonio and Essie’s goose would be cooked.  Worse, Violet would surely turn the baby over to social services and his mother–if she was still alive–might never get him back.  Everything was a mess.  Could things get any worse?

            Essie headed out of the dining hall.  She hadn’t spoken to Santos, but she knew he knew where to find her if he needed her.  She rolled into the lobby.  The line at the front desk had diminished and Phyllis was now speaking to one of the staff nurses.  As Essie rolled by she heard their conversation.