The Secret Life of Ceecee Wilkes (13 page)

I
t was nearly eleven by the time she reached Charlottesville. She drove through the downtown area and felt almost as if she’d been there before. Even though it was late, young people—students?—walked along the sidewalks, carrying books, talking and laughing with one another.

“Look at this, Sweet Pea,” she said to the sleeping baby. “It’s like Chapel Hill.”

At a stoplight, she checked the directions Forrest had given her, then drove another half mile until she came upon an old, white two-story house. She checked the house number illuminated by the gas lantern near the front steps. One seventy-six. This was it. She parked directly in front of the building.

The house had a slightly lopsided look to it, but the light from the lantern bounced off clean white siding and black shutters, and above the railing of the wraparound porch, she could see the tops of four ladder-back rockers. Lights burned in all the downstairs windows.

She lifted the baby into her arms and got out of the car, inhaling the scent of burning wood. Heading up the sidewalk to the house, she suddenly stopped short, wondering if the police might be waiting inside for her. She searched the quiet street for police cars, but she was too tired to feed her paranoia anymore than that, and she started walking again.

Three pumpkins rested on the top step of the porch, and the front door was adorned with a wreath made from greenery and gold-painted gourds.

The baby stirred against her shoulder as she climbed the steps, and she rubbed her tiny back.

“We’re here, Sweet Pea,” she said. “I’m not exactly sure where ‘here’ is, but we’re going to find out.”

A bell hung from the center of the wreath and she pulled the short chain to ring it, the sound clanging in the still air. The door flew open almost instantly, and a woman stood in front of her wearing a welcoming smile.

“Eve?” she asked. She was sixtyish, give or take a few years, and she wore a denim jumper over a cream-colored jersey. Her nearly white pageboy haircut was unfussy, just shy of being severe, and her black wire-rimmed glasses reflected the light from the gas lamp.

“Yes,” CeeCee said. “I’m Eve Bailey.”

“And I’m Marian. Come in, come in.” She took CeeCee’s arm and drew her gently inside. “You must be so tired, driving with a baby all the way from Charleston! Do you believe how cold it is already?”

Momentarily confused, CeeCee started to tell her that she’d come from New Bern before realizing that Naomi had set a cover in place for her. She stepped into the warm foyer. On her right was the living room, awash with light from table lamps and a crackling fire. A sofa and chairs, all overstuffed and soft looking, filled the room, and she longed to sink into one of them.

“Let me hold the little one while you take off your coat, honey.” Marian took the baby from her arms with a confident sort of force, while CeeCee removed her jacket and hung it in the foyer closet.

“Oh, your hair is divine!” Marian shook her head in amazement, reminding CeeCee of the way Tim reacted to her hair. He would look at it as if it were too wonderful to be believed.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Sit by the fire.” Marian nodded toward the living room.

CeeCee headed for the sofa and sat down, the cushions as soft and cradling as she’d imagined. There was a bassinet in the corner, made of white wicker and trimmed with pink ribbon. After a very difficult journey, she felt suddenly, unexpectedly, safe.

“Are you hungry?” Marian held the baby close to her chest, and CeeCee noticed that she was wearing black tights and red sneakers. “I have chicken soup I can heat up. Or if you’re a vegetarian, I have some canned lentil soup.”

She hadn’t thought about food since leaving New Bern, but at the mention of it, she felt famished.

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” she said. She sounded like an adult, the words strange to her own ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you, honey,” Marian said. “They told me you were coming sometime overnight, so I made plenty of soup. It’s no trouble at all.”

“I’d love some chicken soup, then,” CeeCee said.

“First, though, I have to take a good look at this little dumpling.” Marian sat down on the couch and rested the baby on her knees.

Don’t wake her,
CeeCee wanted to say. She’d only gotten the baby to sleep shortly before reaching Charlottesville.

“Why she’s brand-new, isn’t she?” Marian gently pulled the blanket away from the infant’s face. “And she’s a beauty. When did you have her? Are you nursing her?”

Startled, CeeCee tried to think of a response. Marian thought the baby was hers! Along with surprise, she felt an undeserved rush of pride.

“She was born—” she tried to remember the date on the birth certificate “—about a week ago, I think. The time’s all run together. And I’m not nursing,” she added quickly. “I have formula with me. It’s in the car though. And diapers. I brought everything I need for a couple of days.”

Marian’s frown was full of sympathy. “You poor sweet girl,” she said. “I can tell you’ve been through something rougher than words can say, haven’t you?”

CeeCee felt tears burn her eyes and she blinked hard to hold them back.

“You can’t even remember what day you had this little one,” Marian said. “What’s her name?”

“Corinne.” CeeCee’s voice came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Corinne,” she said with more confidence.

“Cory,” Marian said. “Is it okay if I call her Cory?”

CeeCee nodded. She liked that better, actually. Corinne was too elaborate a name for a baby.

“She’s going to be a redhead, I think.” Marian ran a slightly crooked index finger over Cory’s pink cheek. “Is her father a redhead?”

How was she supposed to answer that question? she wondered. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“I’m sorry,” Marian said. “None of my business.” She handed the baby back to her. “I’ll go out to your car and get your formula and whatever else there is and—”

“No, I’ll do it.” She felt guilty for putting her out.

“Stay. That’s an order. I’ll put the soup on to heat, then go out and get your things. You had a baby a week ago and just drove for who knows how many hours. You sit.”

“Okay,” CeeCee said, relieved. It would feel good to be taken care of, if only for a few minutes.

She’d almost fallen asleep by the time Marian called her into the kitchen to eat. She lay the baby in the bassinet, then walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

“Here you go.” Marian put a bowl of soup in front of her, and CeeCee’s mouth watered at the sight and smell of it. There were corn muffins, too, and a little tub of butter.

“It’s honey butter,” Marian said. “And would you like juice or soda or—”

“Just water, please,” CeeCee said. “You’re not eating?”

Marian laughed. “I had my dinner about five hours ago,” she said, setting a glass of water on the table.

Of course. It was nearing midnight. “I’m sorry to keep you up so late,” she said.

“I’m a night owl.” Marian sat down across from her with a cup of tea. “Also, a mourning dove. I’m one of those people who can get by on a few hours’ sleep.”

“This is so good,” CeeCee said, swallowing a mouthful of the soup. “Thank you for getting a bassinet for me. For Cory.”

Marian looked surprised, then laughed. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Wait till you see upstairs. I have a little day-care center, so I not only have a bassinet down here, but one upstairs as well. Plus a crib and a changing table and toys galore. And another crib out in my garage, which I converted to a playroom.” Marian’s accent was impossible to place, but she was not Southern by birth, of that CeeCee was certain. She couldn’t figure her out. She was not quite the grandmother type. Not even the kindly old aunt. She was maternal and soothing, yet there was a little bit of drill sergeant lurking beneath her calm blue eyes and denim jumper. “I don’t do as much of it as I used to, though,” Marian continued. “Right now, I take care of two-year-old twin boys. They’re a handful, let me tell you. And I have a four-year-old girl who is my little helper. I’ve had them all since they were babies, so I always have baby stuff around.”

“I guess I came to the right place.” CeeCee tried to smile. “But the truth is…I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I mean…I guess that sounds stupid. They…I was told to come here and that I could stay with you a little while, but I really don’t know if that’s okay with you or—”

“It’s certainly okay.” Marian folded her hands on the table and leaned forward as if sharing a confidence. “You’re not the first person I’ve taken in, honey, believe me. Here’s what would work out great, if it suits you. You stay here as long as you need to, and at least in the beginning, you can help me with the day-care kids.”

“Yes,” CeeCee said quickly, pleased to have a plan. “I…that would be great.”

“Now.” Marian sat back in her chair. “First things first. Has a doctor looked Cory over?” she asked. “Was she born in a hospital?”

“No, she…I had her…” She stammered and Marian held up her hand.

“It doesn’t matter. Anything you think you’d better keep to yourself, you do that. I understand. Listen to me.” She leaned forward again. “I understand your name is probably not really Eve. I understand the police or someone who’d like to do you harm is probably looking for you. This is a given, okay? I understand all that, but we don’t talk about it. We move forward from today. You’re Eve Bailey. I’m Marian Kazan. The baby in the living room is Cory…Bailey?”

CeeCee nodded.

“She has a birth certificate?”

She nodded again.

“Excellent. There’s a clinic near here. You’ll take her and get her a checkup, just to make sure everything’s okay with her. You prepare some answers to that ‘where was she born’ question. Then we get an OB appointment for you.”

“OB?” CeeCee asked.

“Obstetrician.” Marian tipped her head to study her. “Honey, just tell me this, did a doctor deliver your baby?”

“No.” She thought she was sounding very stupid. Marian probably thought she’d invited a half-wit into her home.

“Okay, we should get you checked out then. Make sure you’re healing just fine. Are you having any problems?”

“No. None,” CeeCee said. “I don’t think I need to go to the doctor.”

“You didn’t tear or anything?”

CeeCee shook her head, more to clear away a sudden image of Genevieve than to answer the question.

Marian tipped her head again. “How old are you, honey?” she asked.

“Seventeen.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a bit of a relief. Not that seventeen is old enough to be a mommy, but I thought at first you were only about fifteen.”

“Everyone thinks that,” CeeCee said.

“Cory’s tiny, so I guess it wasn’t too bad for you,” Marian said. “I’ll leave that up to you, then. If you change your mind, there’s a wonderful woman OB in town you can go to. She’s at a clinic, too, so it costs a pittance. Could even be free, if you don’t have any money, and I’m guessing you don’t.”

“I have a hundred dollars,” she said. “I could help buy food or—”

“No, you hold on to your money, okay? I have all the money I need. I do day care because I love children, not because I need the money. Speaking of which, I don’t want you to help me with my day-care kids right away, either. I think you need to take care of
you
first. You seem a little shell-shocked right now.”

“I’m just…” She smiled weakly. “I guess that’s a good description.”

She wanted to tell Marian the truth. Marian would understand, and she would know a way to get the baby to the governor. But she didn’t have the energy to go into it all and Marian had made it clear she didn’t want to know. CeeCee felt as if she were being swept along by a current she no longer had the will to stop.

Marian put her in a bedroom wallpapered with huge pink cabbage roses that reminded CeeCee of one of the foster homes she’d lived in. One of the
good
foster homes, where her stay had been cut all too short by the sudden illness of the foster mother. The room had a double bed, a mauve-colored contemporary upholstered chair that seemed out of place in the house, and a six-drawer dresser. Marian moved a second bassinet into the room from somewhere else on the second floor.

“She’s been sleeping in bed with me,” CeeCee said.

Marian looked as though she might want to say something about that, but bit her lip. “We’ll put the bassinet right next to your bed, then,” she said. “Keep her close and safe at the same time.”

Marian ran a bubble bath for her in a deep claw-foot tub, and CeeCee pinned her hair on top of her head and sank into the lavender-scented water with relief. She’d fed and changed Cory, and Marian was rocking her to sleep in the living room. For the first time in days, she felt calm, and she leaned her head back against the tub and closed her eyes.

She was soaping herself when she heard the jangle of Marian’s doorbell. She froze, holding the washcloth against her neck. Listening hard, she heard voices. A man’s. A woman’s. The police?

She scrambled out of the tub, barely drying herself before pulling on her jeans and sweater. By the time she ran down the stairs, she was certain Cory had been taken away by the police. That was what she’d wanted a few hours ago; now the thought was unbearable.

Marian sat reading on the living-room sofa, and she looked surprised when CeeCee raced into the room in her bare feet.

“What on earth’s the matter, honey?” Marian asked.

“Where’s Cory?”

“Sound asleep.” Marian nodded toward the bassinet in the corner.

CeeCee peered into the bassinet and saw the baby, asleep beneath a soft, pink blanket. She grabbed the edge of the bassinet to keep from toppling over, light-headed from the hot bath and fear. She felt Marian’s hand on her back.

“What is it, Eve?” Marian asked.

“I heard someone at the door. A man’s voice. Who was it?”

“A neighbor,” Marian said. “He saw my lights on and wanted to be sure I was all right.”

“It wasn’t…” She didn’t dare mention the police. “It wasn’t someone looking for me?” She examined Marian’s face for the truth.