California Angel

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  "Yeah, that sounds about right. How much do I get for this and why do you need a note?"

  Greedy creep, Toy thought. She'd just given him a hundred big ones for tossing her out on the street. Now the jerk wanted more. "I need it because I didn't turn in my winning ticket in time. Thank goodness, no one else came forward and I explained my circumstances. But since I wasn't in the hospital that entire day, as you of course know, I need something to prove I was a little out of it. Know what I mean?"

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  All he did was rub his fingers together. He didn't care about the story. All he cared about was the cash.

  "Another hundred," Toy said. "But you have to do it right now. That's part of the deal. I'm not coming back to get it."

  "No problem, sugar," he said. "I can write with the best of them. Just got to get me a piece of paper."

  "Here we go," Toy said, removing a notebook from her purse. "I'll just have a cup of coffee while you get it ready."

  Once she had the waiter's written statement in her purse, Toy stepped outside into the chilly, evening air. She started to cross the street and ask for directions back to her hotel, but instead she just stood there on the corner, lost in her thoughts. Did she have enough? Could she really approach a newspaper or television station with what she had? She had done what she'd set out to do. She had accounted for her whereabouts almost every second of the day the fire had occurred in Kansas, and she had the tape to prove that she had been the one to save the boy. She even had the child itself to back up her story, but still she wasn't certain what she should do next. She weighed the merits of simply taking her prearranged flight with Sylvia back to Los Angeles on Tuesday and setting everything that had happened aside. She was concerned about little Margie Roberts, as well as all the other students who counted on her at school. How would they feel when they walked into the classroom and found out she wasn't coming back?

  Glancing down the street, Toy saw the greenery of Central Park, and decided to walk awhile and enjoy the evening before returning to the hotel. Once she entered the park itself, she marveled at the sheer size of it. Right here in the middle of this massive city was a sprawling, spectacular piece of real estate: trees, ponds, paths, benches, an ice skating rink. She heard the tapping of horse hooves and looked behind her as a horse-drawn carriage passed. Then the driver pulled up on the reins and stopped.

  "Want to go for a ride?" the man said.

  "How much?" Toy asked, inhaling the wonderful odor of the horse's body. The horse seemed to know she was sniffing him, enjoying him. He stamped his hooves and tossed his head.

  "Well, since it's quiet tonight and I'm about to head home, I'll give you a deal. Sixty-five dollars for a ride around the park."

  The man looked quaint in his top hat and tails, but his eyes were the same eyes she saw in the street hustlers. "Sorry," Toy said, turn-

  ing and walking away. She certainly couldn't squander sixty-five dollars to ride in a horse-drawn carriage.

  The horse hooves caught up to her. "All right, let's make it fifty, but only for you, and only because it's late."

  "Thirty and not a penny more," Toy said firmly. "Really, it's not that I don't want you to have the money. I just don't have it to spare."

  "Cash?" he asked.

  "No," Toy said, "I'll have to give you a check."

  The driver stared at her for a long time, trying to make up his mind. Then he seemed to be taken by her. "Climb on, you got a deal."

  Toy got into the carriage and quickly slid back in time. She imagined what the city had been like in the early days. All the horses and carriages, the ladies in their beautiful hats. Cleaning up manure was a lot easier than cleaning up the ozone, she decided, wishing they could magically turn back the hands of time.

  But all that didn't matter. Toy was alone. And being alone in a horse-drawn carriage simply wasn't that much fun. She thought of Stephen and wondered what he was doing, suddenly wishing he was beside her and she could rest her head against his shoulder. She thought of all the long talks they had enjoyed when they were first married, and the way Stephen had always made her laugh. How had he lost his sense of humor, his enthusiasm for life? Toy remembered his passion for medicine and his overwhelming desire to become a surgeon. "It's like being God," he'd told her one night after completing his first procedure. "When you cut into someone's body, it's like you're an extension of God. You become His hands, His eyes. It's awesome, Toy. It's opened my eyes to the wonder of life, and made me feel like I'm an intricate part of the overall process."

  Well, Toy thought, she hadn't heard any speeches from Stephen lately about God and the wonder of life. These days her husband seemed to view his patients as mere commodities, his surgical procedures evaluated on how much he would earn instead of how many lives he could save. Was it possible for a person to change so drastically? She decided her husband had misplaced more than his sense of humor. Somewhere along the way he had lost his heart as well.

  As the horse hooves tapped on the asphalt and the carriage gently rocked, Toy pulled the woolen shawl the driver had given her over her body and closed her eyes. In no time she felt herself drifting and

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  floating, a strange constrictive feeling in her chest. But she didn't feel pain or fear. She felt completely at peace. Then she heard the soft whimpers of what sounded like a child crying, seemingly calling to her from somewhere inside the darkness.

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  come trapped in the shaft. The dog could even be rabid, she thought, a one-time house pet dumped loose in the city by owners who no longer wanted to care for it. That would tend to make a dog vicious, she decided, with or without rabies. She certainly didn't want to reach her hand in there and draw back a stump.

  Then she heard the noise again. It wasn't so much a growl as a moaning, raspy sound. She lifted her head out of the hole and glanced around her at all the trees and greenery. There had to be all kinds of animals in Central Park, she told herself. It could be a raccoon, a squirrel, even an owl. There were more strange sounds, and then Toy heard what sounded like a choking, gurgling sound, followed by a violent fit of coughing.

  "Is anyone there?" she yelled down into the shaft, her curiosity outweighing her fear.

  "Help me," a small, strained voice said.

  Had she really heard what she thought she had, Toy asked herself, or were her ears deceiving her? There was a strong easterly wind now. Far off in the distance, she could hear horns honking and the sounds of traffic. Overhead, a jet streaked by. Maybe she was just imagining that the voice was coming from the hole.

  "Hello down there," she yelled again. "If you can hear me, yell out."

  "Help me," the tiny voice cried. "Please, I want my mommy."

  Toy felt inside the shaft with her hands, touching something metal that seemed to be attached to the interior walls. Turning her body around, she held onto the sides and dropped her lower body down inside the shaft, feeling along the side walls with her feet. If she was right, she decided, what she was feeling were metal footholds for a person to climb down.

  Toy positioned her foot on one of the metal bars and dropped even farther into the shaft. She could hear the person inside now clearly, and was certain it was a child. "I'm coming down, honey," she said. "Just hold on until I get to you."

  The farther she went down the shaft, the more Toy had to compress her body. Even though the opening appeared to be approximately eighteen inches in size, the railing made the interior of the shaft several inches smaller. If Toy hadn't been so slender, she knew she would never have been able to fit inside. The walls of the shaft were tight against her body and she felt claustrophobic and panicky. But the child was sobbing again, and her respiration was so labored it sounded like someone sawing each time she took a breath. As Toy

  got closer to the bottom, she could hear what sounded like rushing water, and became fearful that the child was going to drown.

  "Are you in water?" she
called out.

  "Yes," the voice said. "Help me. I can't get out. I need my medicine."

  "Okay, relax. I'm coming," Toy said, unable to see anything in the dark shaft. But she knew she was close. The child's voice seemed to be right below her. "I'm going to reach out my hand to you," she said. "When you see it, try to grab it."

  Toy leaned sideways, but it was so tight that she couldn't get her arm free to reach out for the child. Sucking in all her breath, she finally managed to squeeze herself into a tight ball, dropping her hand into the darkness. "It's there," she said. "Can you see it?"

  "No," the voice said.

  Toy swung her hand back and forth like a pendulum, hoping the movement would catch the child's attention. Finally she felt a small, slippery hand brush across her palm and clasped her fingers tightly around it. "Don't pull away or I'll lose you," Toy said. "What's your name?"

  "Lucy," she said weakly.

  "Okay, Lucy," Toy said calmly, "I'm going to move up the ladder and pull you with me. Use your feet to find the rings on the ladder."

  "I'm . . . going to fall," the child pleaded, her breathing more tortured and raspy than ever. "Please ... get me out. I can't breathe. I'm . . . having an asthma attack."

  "Hold on," Toy said, jerking on the child's hand as she pulled herself up with her free hand. The muscles in her side were smarting from trying to hold her entire body weight up with only one hand, but Toy was oblivious to any discomfort. The child was sick, asthmatic. She had to get her to a hospital. "Did you find the place to put your feet?" she asked.

  "Yes, I think so."

  "Okay, here we go again," Toy said, giving her another firm yank and stepping onto the next ring on the ladder.

  "I . . . can't," the child said, her body weight collapsing, pulling Toy's hand.

  Toy struggled to hang on. Even though the child wasn't that heavy, Toy was extremely light herself and the force of gravity was making the child seem like a stone. She wanted to get beneath her and place her on her shoulders, but the shaft was so tight that she didn't think

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  she could. "Lucy," she said, "you have to help me. Are you ready to try again?"

  There was no reply.

  Toy's heart started pounding in her chest, more from fear than exertion. The child had passed out, she decided, probably from lack of oxygen. Of course, she had no idea how long the poor thing had been trapped in the storm drain. She could be suffering from starvation and dehydration as well.

  Moving more slowly and making every attempt not to scrape the unconscious child's body against the metal railings as she pulled her out of the shaft, Toy struggled up the ladder, one foothold at a time. Her muscles were so overtaxed by this time that her arm was trembling, and she was terrified she was going to let the child fall back to the bottom of the hole. There must be a water main that ran down there, either that or the sewer, maybe an underground well. If she let the child fall now that she was unconscious, Toy knew there was a good possibility that she could drown.

  Finally Toy saw a dot of light and realized that she had made it. Pulling herself out first, she then carefully pulled the child out. Her face was covered in mud and filthy, but Toy estimated her age at eight or nine. She had been certain she was older, since her words had been so perfectly enunciated. Just then a beam of moonlight streaked through an opening in the trees, and Toy could see her more clearly. She saw a dirty and disheveled little girl wearing what looked like a jumper and a long-sleeved white blouse. On her feet were patent leather shoes and white ankle socks with lace. Her head was a mass of tangled curls, and Toy could see leaves and twigs among the curls. Around her mouth was a tinge of blue.

  She wasn't getting enough oxygen to her brain, Toy realized, immediately standing and sweeping up the limp child. Toy then took off running, the child in her arms, tripping on a gnarled tree branch stemming from the base of a tree trunk. Quickly scurrying to her feet, Toy lost her balance again and landed on her buttocks on a thick bed of leaves. Her weight combined with the child's, as well as the force of gravity, caused Toy to slide down the hill as though she was riding on a sled.

  Reaching the bottom, she immediately scrambled back to her feet and started hiking up the hill, carrying the child again, panting and on the verge of collapse. Just then the little girl's eyes opened. "Hold on. Lucy." Toy told her. "We're almost there."

  "i want my mommy." she blubbered.

  Toy's side was cramping, and she knew she had to stop and rest before continuing. "Baby, can you tell me how you fell down that drain? Where're your parents?"

  "You're not my mommy," the child said, wheezing and coughing. "I want my mommy. I don't talk to strangers."

  "That's right," Toy said patiently, "but I want to help you. Can you tell me what happened?"

  "They brought me here. They made me come. They took me from my Sunday school."

  "Who took you?" Toy asked.

  "The bad men," the child said. Terror leaped into her eyes, and her small body trembled violently.

  Toy cradled the child's body in her arms, rocking her gently as she spoke. "Oh, honey," she said, stroking her head and back, "we're going to get you to a doctor and get you all fixed up. Everything's okay now. Everything's going to be fine now."

  Suddenly the child started flailing her arms around and kicking, her breathing more strained and raspy than before. Toy kept a gentle but firm hold on her small body as she struggled to free herself. "I'm here. No one's going to hurt you. I won't let them."

  "No," the child screamed. "Let me go. You're going to hurt me just like those bad men."

  "Look," Toy said forcefully, trying to pick her up again in her arms, "I'm a schoolteacher. You know a teacher would never hurt you. I'm going to take you home, help you find your parents." When the girl persisted in thrashing about, Toy came up with something else. "I'm your guardian angel, okay? Have you ever heard of a guardian angel, sweetheart? They're angels sent by God to help you when you get in trouble. That means I have special powers and can make everything safe again. All you have to do is believe in me. Can you do that, huh?"

  The little girl's eyes found Toy's, and she silently nodded. Toy then swept her up in her arms again and began walking. She cooed to her and sang to her until she was once again out on the grassy knoll, but the child couldn't relax. Her body kept stiffening in Toy's arms as she struggled to breathe.

  Toy had no idea how to get out of the park and the child was heavy, heavier than she had thought. She couldn't just keep walking and walking. They could end up deep inside the park.

  Gently she set the child down on the grass. They needed to formu-

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  late a plan. Toy had to get her bearings. "Please," she said to the little girl, "tell me about the bad men."

  "The men . . . they came . . . they took me from my Sunday school where I go to church with my mommy. But Mommy wasn't there, and I was swinging on the playground. They . . . they held me around and took me away so I can't find my mommy."

  "Did they hurt you?" Toy felt a stab of fear. The child had been kidnapped, snatched right out of a churchyard. She could have been raped, abused. There was no telling what atrocities had been inflicted on her.

  "They . . . stole my underpants . . . and I peed. I couldn't help it," she cried. "Then they hit me and . . . kicked me . . . and put me in that hole."

  "After they stole your panties," Toy said slowly, "did they touch you down there, put anything inside you, do anything else to hurt you?"

  The child shook her head, as her chest expanded and contracted.

  Suddenly the little girl's body fell backward on the grass and her stomach bowed upward, her entire body becoming stiff and rigid. She started screaming again at the top of her lungs.

  "Please," Toy said, "don't scream. You're all right. I'm here." Scooping her up in her arms again, Toy took off, trying to see the buildings over the trees and figure out which way to go. Finally she reached a clearing and thought
she heard the sounds of cars zipping by. A few seconds later, she saw the street and was overcome with relief.

  Several yellow cabs sped by, already occupied with fares. Toy stepped off the curb and tried to flag down a passing motorist, but no one would stop. A few minutes later, a long black limousine appeared, and Toy stepped right in front of it, waving her free hand in the air.

  The driver rolled down his window and stuck his head out. "What's wrong? Has there been an accident?"

  "Yes," Toy said, almost falling against the car door in relief, the child still in her arms. "We have to get her to a hospital. She was kidnapped from a church playground, and the kidnappers left her in a drainage ditch."

  "Put her in the backseat," the man said, reaching back to open the door for her. "Are you her mother?"

  "No," Toy said, leaning down and gently placing the little girl on

  the plush velvet seat. "We're going to take you to a doctor now, honey," she told her. "You're going to be okay. I promise you."

  Toy looked over the child's head and suddenly saw an older man sitting in the far corner. He leaned forward and started to say something, but Lucy interrupted him.

  "You're so pretty," she said to Toy, her arms still wrapped tightly around Toy's neck. "Is being a guardian angel like being a fairy princess? Are you really an angel?"

  "I try to be," Toy said, smiling as she kissed her on the forehead. Then she quickly turned to the driver, ignoring the man in the shadows. "Take us to the closest hospital."

  Toy reached for the handle to close the door when everything suddenly went black, and she felt herself falling and falling, as if she were being sucked through space.