Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 02 - Papoosed (14 page)

            “She’s right,” agreed Opal, deferring to logic.  “Marjorie’s apartment it is then.  Fay and I will meet you there, Marjorie, and then we can all head over here to pick up the baby.”

            “Great!” said Essie.  “Now, as Antonio is sound asleep, I suggest we all adjourn to our own places and rest up.  I, for one, know that I’ll need to relax before things get really hectic later this afternoon.”

            “We’ll get going, Essie,” agreed Opal.  “We’ve put plenty of cans of substitute formula in case you need it.”

            “And a stack of baby diapers that Fay made out of those
Reliables
are piled up in the cupboard over your toilet,” added Marjorie.

            “Super Cooper!” exclaimed Essie.  “It seems I’m a prepared babysitter!”

            “Now all you need is for your boyfriend Hubert Darby to come over for a make-out session on the couch!” suggested Marjorie with a sassy smile.

            “Marjorie!” gasped Opal.

            “Let’s concentrate on the ‘baby’ in our babysitting,” said Essie, shaking her head.           

            The three friends rolled their respective vehicles to Essie’s front door and quietly departed.  Essie peeked around outside of her door to the left where Clara Monroe’s apartment door was … about ten feet down the hallway.  She could see the giant silver wreath on Clara’s door.  For someone with such a public display of Christmas spirit, Essie reasoned, Clara was not the most generous of souls.  Was she just jealous? Or lonely?  Why would she complain about Essie’s behavior?  Essie was quite sure that she and Marjorie, Opal, and Fay had not made any excessive noise in taking care of baby Antonio.  If Clara had noticed the baby crying, why wouldn’t she just mention that?  It seems that complaining that a resident had a baby in their apartment for any period of time other than a brief visit would be sufficient grounds for concern.  But no, Clara had complained that Essie had visitors and that they were making too much noise.  Did Clara feel she was being left out of some sort of wild hallway party?  Essie didn’t know.  Her attempts to befriend Clara had not succeeded and she wasn’t sure that she should make any additional efforts.

            Essie rolled back into her living room and to her bedroom door.  She carefully cracked the door a few inches so she could check inside to see if baby Antonio was still asleep.  He was.  Like a little angel.  Whatever miserable beginning his little life had had, he was one sweet-natured and well behaved infant.  Surely, he didn’t deserve the wrath of Clara Monroe.  Essie pulled the door closed and rolled back over to her lounger.  She plopped down in the soft cushions and pulled up the foot rest.  Within a few moments she was sound asleep.

Chapter Sixteen

“Babies have big heads and big eyes, and tiny little bodies with tiny little arms and legs.  So did the aliens at Roswell!  I rest my case.”

–William Shatner

            When she woke up, Essie felt refreshed.  Her watch indicated that she had slept just a half hour but it felt like more.  She glanced over at the gift package of peanut brittle from Hubert Darby that was resting on her end table.  She could always re-gift it to someone in a Secret Santa drawing. 
Oh, no,
she reasoned. 
Hubert would find out and that would hurt his feelings
.
  I’ll just give it to my grandchildren.

            Her hand went to her pants’ pocket where she retrieved the small blue wallet that Santos had found in Maria and Gerald’s apartment.  She again looked inside.  The only item there was a green card.  The name on the card said Maria Compton. 
Hmm
, thought Essie. 
Apparently one branch of the government considered Maria to be Gerald Compton’s wife.  Just how legal was their marriage?  Just how legal was Maria?  Or baby Antonio?
  Essie knew nothing of immigration law.  She examined the small thin wallet, looking for hidden compartments.  Other than some small change and a few dollar bills, the wallet contained nothing else.

            Essie pushed herself out of her lounger, leaning against her walker. 
Why would just a little nap so adversely affect my knees?
  She got up and moved into her bathroom for a quick refresher.  She pulled open the cupboard above her sink where her friends had hidden the makeshift diapers for Antonio.  The little pink packages were lined up neatly.  There were about thirty or forty of them. 
Enough to last several days
, Essie reasoned.   She glanced in her mirror. 
Oh my,
she said to herself. 
My hair looks like it’s been combed with an eggbeater!
   She remembered that when she had been a young mother, her appearance was the least of her concerns too. Her first child, Pru, had kept her awake at night a lot and her husband had not done much to assist her.  Of course, in those days, it was the woman’s duty to care for the children.  Men did not get up at night to attend to cranky babies.  Nowadays, there was more equality, or so she had heard.  Of course, Gerald Compton evidently wasn’t aware of any of this.  He apparently had been living in the dark ages as far as how a modern father should behave.  Essie fluffed up her sparkling silver curls with her fingertips and tweaked her cheeks to give them a healthy glow.  Then she headed back to her living room to see what else she could do to track down Antonio’s mother before the little boy awoke from his nap.

            She quickly tracked down the telephone number of the newspaper she had called earlier.  This time, she was rewarded when the reporter who had written the article on Gerald Compton’s fatal automobile crash, Bernice McVickers, answered her telephone extension.

            “Ms. McVickers?” asked Essie.

            “You got me,” replied the woman succinctly.

            “I spoke with your colleague Mr. Watts earlier,” said Essie.  “He filled me in on the story you wrote about that fatal car crash on the corner of Farris and Orchard, but he suggested I talk to you about the specifics …” She tried to sound authoritative.

            “And you are?” asked McVickers. 

            “Uh … “ stammered Essie.  “I … uh … live in the neighborhood where the crash occurred …”

            “You do?” interjected the reporter.  “Did you know this guy?  The victim?”

            “You mean Gerald Compton?” asked Essie.

            “Yeah,” replied the woman, “the whole accident was strange …”

            “Strange?” probed Essie.

            “Yeah,” continued McVickers.  “The guy was flying down a residential street.  Completely oblivious of this other car in the intersection, legally, I might add.  The police think … you know … maybe suicidal?  Anyway, did you know him?”

            “Um … not personally,” replied Essie, “but I did know of him.”

            “Yeah,” replied the reporter, now with curiosity, “I questioned a number of neighbors around the intersection.  Don’t remember you.  It was just a block from his home.”

            “Yes,” said Essie, now getting excited that the conversation was turning to an aspect that might prove valuable to her.  “I had heard that the man’s wife wasn’t questioned …”

            “Wife?” cried the voice at the news office, “Hey!  What wife?  The Compton guy wasn’t married.  He was driving his father’s car.  As far as we were able to determine, he lived alone.”

            “The father told the police that?” asked Essie.

            “That’s my understanding,” said McVickers.  “The father was the only surviving relative.”

            “My understanding was that Mr. Compton had a wife and a child,” offered Essie.

            “What? If that’s true,” said the woman suspiciously, “the dead guy’s father was lying … and why would he lie about something like that?” 

            “Yes,” replied Essie.  “Why would he lie?”

            “The police spoke with Compton’s landlord.  He said Compton lived alone.”

            “Really?” asked Essie, puzzled.        

            “So, what’s this wife’s name?  Where is she?” continued the reporter, “And how would you know this?  Hey, what did you say your name was?”

            “I didn’t,” replied Essie, fearing she’d probably said too much and wondering now if revealing the existence of Maria and her baby as Gerald Compton’s wife and child had been the best thing to do.  Biting her lip, she gently placed the receiver back on the telephone base.

            This entire debacle was becoming stranger and stranger.  Just what was the relationship between Gerald and Maria Compton?  Were they married?  Legally?  If not, what was going on?  If so, why was Gerald keeping his relationship with Maria a secret?  From his father?  His employer?  His landlord?  Evidently everyone?  It was looking more and more as if Maria had no legal claim to American citizenship.  Essie had no idea what lay in store for little Antonio given the unusual circumstances surrounding his parents.  Could things get any worse?

            At that moment, the PA system crackled. 
Oh no, more announcements
.  Luckily, the announcements had not been blasting away when she was talking to the newspaper reporter.  She recognized Phyllis’s voice on the intercom. 

            “Residents!” said Phyllis in a serious voice, “I have an important announcement that will affect all of you.  It appears that a rather fast-moving and serious stomach virus may have hit Happy Haven.  Just within the last few hours, we’ve had eight residents become quite ill.  Three have been hospitalized.  Our staff doctor and our nurses have been discussing just how to deal with this potentially very serious virus.  We have decided that as a precautionary measure we’re going to quarantine the entire facility until further notice.  This means that no resident is to leave his or her apartment for any reason other than a scheduled outside appointment such as a doctor’s visit.  Staff members will bring you your meals and we will have additional nurses’ aides on duty to assist if any of you need help.  Please call the front desk if you have any concerns or need anything.  Otherwise, do not leave your apartment.  The dining hall and the family room and all other areas in Happy Haven where residents might congregate are now officially off limits.  Oh, and we are so sorry that we will have to cancel the Christmas carol program that was scheduled today for four o’clock.  We will be bringing you updates on the status of our quarantine from time to time.  Please watch for bulletins put under your doors as well.”

            Essie sat in her chair, flabbergasted.  Of course, she was grateful that Happy Haven was taking precautions to prevent the spread of disease.  Of course, she did not want to catch any stomach virus that might be making the rounds of her fellow residents.  She had already seen several of them succumb to it–thankfully–from a distance.  But, what was she going to do about Antonio?  A quarantine meant that her friends would not be allowed to come to her room.  Opal and Marjorie and Fay would all have to remain in their own apartments. 

            The telephone rang … loudly.  Essie answered it, annoyed that anyone would break into her attempts to figure out this most recent dilemma.

            “Essie,” exclaimed Opal into the receiver, “did you hear the announcement?”

            “No, Opal!” replied Essie, “I happen to be the only person at Happy Haven who didn’t hear that we are all under a quarantine!”   

            “What about Antonio?” demanded Opal. 

            “What about him?” retorted Essie.  “I’ll have to watch him myself!”

            “What about your children?” continued Opal.

            “I’m trying to figure that out,” replied Essie.  “But I can’t do that when I’m talking to you!”  She hung up.  If Opal was offended, she was sorry, but right now she had to figure out what to do when her three children arrived to take her out for dinner.  Maybe they wouldn’t let her go! 
That’s a thought!
she reasoned.  She called the front desk.

            “Phyllis,” she began.

            “Yes?” replied Phyllis, sounding harried. 

            “Phyllis, this is Essie Cobb,” said Essie, “in B114.”

            “Yes, dear,” answered Phyllis, “are you sick?”

            “Oh, no!” replied Essie, “I feel just fine.  I was wondering if I’m allowed to go out to dinner tonight.  My children want to take me out.  Of course, if you say I can’t go, I don’t mind telling them … .”

            “Oh, no, Essie!” said Phyllis. “The quarantine only applies to interacting with other residents!  We have no problem with you going out with your children … as long as you’re well!”

            “Hmm,” answered Essie, “what are the symptoms of this virus”

            “It comes on very suddenly,” said Phyllis, “vomiting, fever, chills, diarrhea …”

            “Sounds terrible,” replied Essie, feeling ill just hearing Phyllis describe it.  “I guess I don’t have it.” 

            “That’s good, Essie,” said Phyllis. “You just stay in your room!  But if you want to go out to dinner with your family!  That’s fine  But I’d be sure to let them know about the quarantine.”

            Essie mumbled her thanks to Phyllis who quickly hung up.  It was obvious that Phyllis was going to be very busy at the front desk answering questions from residents who were now stuck in their rooms.  She had almost hoped that Happy Haven would extend the quarantine to residents leaving the building but no such luck.  Here she was now, alone in her apartment with a newborn baby.  Her three children would be here in just hours to take her out to dinner.  She obviously couldn’t go with them and leave the baby all alone.  She couldn’t have any of her three friends come down and stay here or take the baby with them.  The staff would be watching the hallways and the lobby to make certain that residents remained in their rooms.  What could she do?  If she told her children the truth, they would insist she give Antonio to the authorities.  She couldn’t leave Antonio alone while she went out with her family.  If he cried while she was gone, she’d be found out  And, of course, she’d never leave him alone.