Rosalind (17 page)

The sheriff sighed and threw the folder on the table.

"Nothing. I'm not saying nothing. I haven't found a damn thing out there by Nancy's house. I sure wish that girl would've told me what had happened that night. Why didn't she call me?"

Susan nodded. "Looks like this one might have gotten away on ya," she said.

The words stung. Neither Whispering Pines nor Lincoln County had been a hotbed of criminal activity, but he had managed to solve every single crime that had come his way. He even figured out who Rosalind was and where she'd come from, even if he never put that information down on paper or filed it in a report. He had still figured it out. But now he had a simple break-in and a pregnant thirteen-year-old girl, and Rosalind was not able to help.

It wasn't her fault
, he told himself.
But come on, throw me a bone
. 

A few days later, the sheriff drove out to Hank Fletcher's again after calling and getting no answer. To his surprise, Hank's rig was sitting where he usually parked it. He pulled his cruiser in the driveway and walked up to the house. He knocked on the door.

No answer.

He walked around the house and heard a noise coming from the shed to the right.

"Hank Fletcher!" he yelled.

A voice from inside yelled back, "Yeah, who is it?"

"It's me, Hank." A dark-haired man emerged from the dark opening holding a wrench. His overalls were covered in oil and a few streaks of engine grease covered his arms and forehead. "Catch you at a bad time?"

"Just workin' on this piece of shit," Hank said, pointing his wrench over his shoulder and back at the shed. "What's on your mind?"

"I just needed to ask you a few questions. It seems awful after…well I just hate to bring it all back, if you know what I mean."

"Speak
your mind, I ain't got all day," said Hank.

"This is gonna sound strange. Hell it sounds crazy, but I need to know what
kind of cigarettes you smoke," said the sheriff.

"You come all the way out here to ask me that?" Hank roared with laughter. "You know we got phones nowadays. Boy, I hate that you made a trip for that."

"I called earlier, but you were—" The sheriff pointed at the shed. Hank looked back and then nodded thoughtfully.

"Fair enough. Well
, sheriff," Hank said proudly, pulling up his overalls and pushing his chest out, "I am indeed a Camel man. Been one ever since I was nine."

The sheriff nodded. "Well shit, Hank. Sorry I took you away from whatever it is you're doing there. Thanks for your time."

"You doin' one of them surveys?" Hank asked.

"What? No, just following up on a lead. When that fella broke into your house," he replied.

"Broke in? And I'm just now hearing about it? That explains the broken glass I found on the kitchen floor. I just figured that dumb girl locked herself out. Who's gonna pay for that, if I may ask?"

"I'm sorry about that, Hank. It shook her up pretty bad and she just now told us about it."
Paying for a new window for Hank was the last thing on the sheriff's mind, but he appeased him with a "We'll see what we can do."

The sheriff thanked Hank for the information and drov
e back to the station.

He walked in and Susan was sitting at her desk. "Camel," he said.

"You want a Camel?" she replied.

"Hank
. He smokes Camels. Has been ever since he was nine years old," he said, doing his best Hank impersonation. Susan laughed, picking up on Hank's distinctive drawl.

"You're good at that. Maybe you have another
career ahead of you," she said.

He mimicked a laugh but he wasn't in the mood to draw it out. He went to his office and closed his door.

He sat down at his desk and tipped the folder over. The butt fell out and landed on the wood. He was back to nothing and nothing is what he had. He examined the cigarette butt and then put it back in the folder.

On February 4th, Susan drove Rosalind to the Lincoln County Hospital. Rosalind had still not had her
monthly
, but this trip was solely for Susan. She thought it might show some good faith on her part if she talked to Dr. McClelland to let him know that Rosalind was fine and that if he could see her, maybe he would not pursue his initial instinct of reporting her to a social services office.

They checked in with the same, pointy-glassed nurse they saw before Christmas and the Doctor McClelland
saw them immediately.

"She's looking well," he said, cautiously.

"She is, isn't she? Yes, I spoke with Sheriff Hanes. It sounds like a good deal for Rosalind, so I think we can avoid a call to child services. Any change in her condition?" McClelland said.

"Nothing yet, but as a woman speaking for a woman, she's pregnant. She doesn't get sick as often as she used to, but it's still at least two or three times a week.
That and she's put on a little weight. With a normal sized girl, you wouldn't be able to tell, but she's so skinny that it shows now."

"Is she eating normally?" he asked.

"Like a pig," she replied. "No idea how she stays so skinny."

He nodded and then said, "We'll see in a few months for sure. Now, I'm sure that isn't why you're here." He closed the door to the room and then consulted his chart.
"Your current doctor is Singer?"

"Yes," she replied.

"He's asked me to see his patients while he and his wife are on vacation," he said, still looking at the chart. "You and your husband tried unsuccessfully to have children for two years?"

"Yes."

"I see," he said. "Generally, a year of unprotected sexual intercourse with no positive pregnancy results constitutes infertility. My suggestion would be to keep trying, but keep a cautious optimism in your back pocket, so to speak."

The doctor spoke again, "A woman is also born with exactly the same amount of eggs she will carry her entire life. It's possib
le that you were born without any. Just maintain a cautious optimism, like I said."

Cautious optimism
, she thought. "It's not fair," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"Rosalind. She's…it's just not fair that someone who doesn't deserve a child—"

"
Unproductive, Mrs. Byrd. It's just nature working itself out."

What the fuck do you know about nature?
she thought.

She nodded and bowed her head.

He made some markings in the chart and then put it to his side. "It isn't the news that you want to hear but even I, as a doctor, still believe in miracles."

"Thank you, doctor," she said.

It was long ride back to Whispering Pines, even though it really wasn't a long ride at all. Her mind raced and then stopped at the same bad news over and over again. The subtle truth that might have gone unnoticed (had they not been trying for a child) was that their sex life
had
increased since Rosalind had come to stay with them. John had seemed a younger version of himself which initially startled Susan. She got used to it quickly, hoping that this newfound lust would actually produce something other than an occasional orgasm. She enjoyed the sex, but she desperately wanted to fill the emptiness in her heart and her womb.

But John had mentioned something in passing one day. Rosalind, he said, was too young to raise a child and
, since she was already living with them, they could adopt Rosalind's baby. It would take some convincing to get it through Rosalind's dull brain (although Susan had been noticing that Rosalind might be something of a savant, perhaps), but if anyone could do it, Susan could. Maybe even the sheriff could chime in. John dropped the matter and let the idea culminate in Susan's mind, where he knew it would.

It was time to have the talk with Rosalind. She pulled the car into the long driveway and threw it into park
when it got to the end of the driveway.

"Let's chat," Susan said. Rosalind turned to Susan, still stroking the doll she had gotten for Christmas. How would she start the conversation? If she blurted out that Rosalind was simply too young to care for a child, then the girl would go immediately into a defensive posture. But she didn't estimate any favorable outcomes when talking to an expectant mother about giving up her only child, especially when she had lost one previously. "Mr. Byrd and I were thinking about your baby," she said.

"Margaret Ann," Rosalind said.

"Who?"

"That's what I want to name her," Rosalind replied.

"Margaret?
Oh, the woman from the magazine?" Rosalind nodded. "That's…that's a beautiful name." And it was, Susan thought. She hadn't thought about a baby names and she didn't think Rosalind had either. "What if it's a boy?"

"It isn't," she said without hesitation. "I know it's a girl." Sus
an looked at Rosalind.

"It's impossible to know for sure."

"I dream about her sometimes," Rosalind replied, smiling.

This was going to be tougher than she thought. If Rosalind had already named the damn kid, then her chances of convincing Rosalind to give it up were slim.

"You love your baby, don't you?" Susan asked. Rosalind nodded again. "How will you take care of her? I mean, you 're so young. And you can't stay with Mr. Byrd and myself forever, can you?"

"I got to leave?" Rosalind asked. Her eyes became glassy in the sunlight coming through the windshield. Susan hadn't planned on this route. It was simple pragmatism. But she had instilled in Rosalind the uncertainty of residence. What did Rosalind know about living on her own? As far as she was concerned, she had been bounced around the town like a ball on a playground, although she had never been to one in her life. Susan had no doubts that Rosalind could cook for herself and maybe, if shown proper hygienic customs
(which she had already noticed had come a long way), keep herself and the baby clean and disease free. But, she couldn't pay for any of it.

That was Susan's card, and she decided to play it.

"Naturally, we thought you would want to branch out eventually, start your own life. But the fact is, you can’t do that with a child at your age. How would you live? Where would you work? We both know you're not even old enough to work, legally? Oh I know, there's ways around all kinds of things like that, but you want to set a good example for Maggie, right?"

"Maggie
?" Rosalind said.

"Maggie. That's the nickname for Margaret," Susan said.

"Maggie," Rosalind whispered to herself.

"Here is my proposal, Rosalind. Mr. Byrd and I have talked about this at great length." It was a lie, but
she was on a roll. "We think that it would be best if he and I adopted Maggie legally, so we could make sure that she has a healthy life and doesn't want for anything." Rosalind thought about her own brother and how he would never have a healthy, long life. At the time he died she thought it was tragic, but she was happy he was saved the pain of living with her father. But now that she knew what life could be like when surrounded by people who loved her, she wished that he was still alive.

"Would I still be her mommy?" Rosalind asked.

"Technically. But legally, I would be her mother," Susan said. "It would just be legal for us to make decisions for her, you know, about her health, her schooling. And the best part? You don't have to go anywhere! You can stay here, if you really want. You can branch out from our house, so to speak. But Maggie would have our last name. Which, if you think about it, is a good thing. The sheriff told us about your family. I know it was tragic and awful, but this way Maggie will never have to know about all of that, and she will have the fresh start—the life that you were never able to have."

Rosalind had come a long way in
her understanding of life, and Susan's words hurt her. She thought that she was doing much better under the care of the Byrds, and if this wasn't a fresh start, what was? Susan saw her face turn downward.

"Do you understand?" Susan asked.

Rosalind nodded her head slowly, looking at her lap. She didn't want to lose her baby, but it wasn't like it was last time. Her baby died without ever being born. This time, she would get to see her and play with her. And what did she know about the other things Maggie would need? Never having had them herself, she thought that maybe Susan had a point. She would still be Maggie's mother.

"
Let's go in the house. I'm chilly," Susan said.

Rosalind went up to her room and sat on her bed. She took her shoes off and lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. Unconsciously, she rubbed her belly.

***

She had time to think about this decision, and over the next six months, she did. John had been pleased when, one day, Rosalind had come downstairs to tell him and Susan that she just loved the named Maggie Byrd for her unborn daughter. Margaret Ann Byrd, to be exact. And over the next six months, Rosalind's belly grew to enormous girth while the rest of her frame tried to maintain its slender appearance.