Accepting Elijah's Heart

by M. Michelle Derosier

  The ding of the elevator announcing their arrival was what he needed to shake off his thoughts. You don’t deal with married women. And she’s not your type. He moved out of the way while she opened her apartment door. Walking down a long hallway, she directed him to the kitchen to drop off the bags. He followed her voice to what he figured was the living room, given their similar apartment layout, and came upon a well-lit oversized room bathed in dark orange. Looking around, his eyes immediately landed on her wedding picture, which told the story of an attractive African-American couple with matching wide smiles. Embarrassed for staring so long, he shifted his eyes to take in the other photos around the room. Coming into focus was a timeline of her son’s life: his mother through different stages of her pregnancy, as a newborn in the hospital, arriving home from the hospital, and other snapshots of his first few months. Glaringly missing was his father. Where was the man?

  “When do you think the police will get here?” she questioned, just as a knock came at the door.

  Rushing to the door, she bumped into his chest as he tried to clear a path. Dismissing her apology with a smile, he stood to the side as two officers who identified themselves as detectives with the Missing Persons Squad marched in. Reina filled the officers in on the story, and Eli filled in pieces from his vantage point.

  Officer Connelly, taller than her partner by several inches, stood ramrod straight and listened to them without emotion, taking notes and nodding to keep them talking.

  “Thanks to all the calls that came in, we’ve been able to piece together the cab’s license plate number,” said Officer Connelly. “We’ve already contacted the Taxi and Limousine Commission,” she finished.

  “That’s good, right? That means it’s only a matter of time before they find him?” Reina couldn’t keep the desperate hope out of her voice.

  “Dispatch couldn’t catch him on his radio. It was off. You must have been his last fare of the night,” Officer Connelly responded.

  “It’s a step in the right direction, ma’am,” her partner, Officer Morrison, chimed in.

  Eli appreciated that he was trying to give Reina some hope. Something about his droopy eyes and soft tone was reassuring.

  Reina handed him a picture. His fingers, thin and long, curled around the photo of Nate laid flat on his back, his arms stretched upward as if trying to grab the lone cloud in an exceptionally blue sky.

  “This was from that unseasonably warm day last month,” Reina said. “We were in the park. I printed and framed this one because of the determined look on his face. He was on a mission to touch that cloud and nothing was going to stop him.”

  Officer Connelly showed a glimpse of vulnerability when she looked at the photo and smiled. “He looks like Superman about to take off.”

  Reina beamed in response, but the moment passed when Officer Connelly reverted to her emotionless mask.

  Officer Morrison offered in a reassuring tone, “You can work with our artist to create a likeness of the driver—”

  “You have his license number. Get his picture and contact information from the cab company,” Reina answered.

  “It’s a little more complicated than that. They have the owner of the medallion—that’s the person who buys the license to operate the cab—on file. Depending on the day, the owner can be different from the driver.”

  “What?” Reina’s voice hitched. “It’s bad enough Nate’s out there with some stranger. Now you’re telling me he’s not even legally a cab driver?”

  “I can’t guarantee he is, but I do know most owners would never risk their medallions by doing something as stupid as renting out to an unlicensed driver.”

  “Not the most reassuring news.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s all we have to offer at the moment,” Officer Morrison replied. “Let’s get you working with that artist and take it from there.”

  “I didn’t see much of his face.”

  “Anything you remember is fine.”

  “Try shutting your eyes and concentrate on transporting yourself back into the taxi,” said Officer Connelly. “Look around. Pay close attention to every detail. There could be something there to help us find Nathaniel.”

  Reina followed her directions. Silence filled the room, with just their soft breathing for noise.

  “I can see his nondescript dark brown eyes and short-cropped tight gray curls. They resemble unopened flower buds of Showy Milkweed.”

  Officer Connelly took notes. Eli wondered if, like him, she would have to Google the flower. “You’re doing good. Keep focusing. Search for identifiable marks. More distinct features.”

  “It looks like a dog chewed on his right earlobe,” she yelled out, dragging the memory into the present.

  “Now that’s unique,” Eli remarked. “That should make him more recognizable.”

  “It won’t hurt,” Officer Connelly responded, cautious. Eli watched her. She didn’t want to give Reina false hope. “We’ll circulate the sketch and Nathaniel’s picture to the local media.”

  “God, please let this work.” Reina choked up.

  The fear on her face touched even the stoic Officer Connelly, who responded, “We’ll do everything we can to bring Nate back home soon.”

  Reina nodded in response and grabbed what she needed to head to the station.

  “Ma’am, anyone else coming with you?” Officer Morrison asked, glancing at Elijah.

  That’s what I’d like to know, Elijah thought. His mind went again to the absentee husband and father. He peeked at his phone. It was almost eight o’clock. Surely the man should be home from work by now.

  Eli watched Reina’s eyes move to her wedding picture. She cleared her throat to answer. He moved closer to her and whispered, as to not arouse the curiosity of the officers, “I’ll come with you if you don’t mind.” Her pupils dilated as if his suggestion came as a shock.

  Recovering from the surprising offer, she smiled her agreement and gratitude. Momentarily taken aback by the striking combination of the dimples that framed the grateful smile, he shook his head to force himself back to reality—she’s married, her son’s missing, and she’s not your type.

  Chapter 2

  Bertho Montdesir maneuvered his cab in and out of traffic, careful to zip by other passing cars without clipping anyone’s bumper. He’d promised his wife, Roseline, he wouldn’t be late for their daughter’s birthday dinner, but if there was a choice between being late and getting into another accident, he knew very well what his wife would advise. She hadn’t yet forgiven him for last year’s fender bender. Better to slow down. He glanced at the dashboard clock that read 8:30 PM and reconsidered. “Maybe not too slow,” he said and gave a little more gas. Once he made it past the FDR and onto Pulaski Bridge, he phoned Roseline.

  “Bertho, Toto, the food will be cold and tasteless by the time we arrive,” Roseline answered.

  “Five minutes, ti chérie.”

  “It’s always my darling when you’re late,” she joked. “I’ll be outside with Fabiola’s gifts and the food. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  “Only a silly man keeps the love of his life standing out in the cold.”

  “Stop charming me and get here already.” She laughed and hung up.

  Bertho smiled to himself. Fifty years of marriage, three children, and seven grandchildren, and Roseline was still the only woman he would always rush home to.

  Roseline stepped out of their home just as he pulled into the driveway. Luckily, Fabiola and her family lived only a few blocks north of them. On a nicer day and without the extra packages, they would have walked and been there in fifteen minutes. Bertho rushed out of the cab and kissed Roseline hello, grabbing the packages from her hand. She opened the front passenger door while he went around to the back to deposit the items. Before he opened the door, a piercing cry cut through the quiet night. Startled, he lost his footing and plopped on the ground, spilling Roseline’s container of Fabiola’s favorite homemade pate kòde, the empan
ada-like fried patties stuffed with spicy smoked herring. Roseline rushed over to help him up.

  “Was that a baby?” she asked, her voice registering her concern. They didn’t say another word before the cry grew louder and more consistent.

  “Toto, mezanmi, I think that’s coming from your car.” He watched her open the back door and saw her eyes widen in panic. “To, Toto, that’s a baby. Jezi! Jesus! Why is there a baby in your taxi?”

  He could not hide the incredulity in his voice when he responded, both hands atop his head, “Woy! Madanm lan kite pitit li.”

  Nathaniel continued to cry, and Roseline gently removed him from his car seat and started walking back into the house. “She left her baby?!” Roseline barked. “What do you mean she left her baby!?”

  Bertho patted the child’s back to calm his tears and gently squeezed Rosaline’s shoulder. He could feel the anger bubbling from her spirit.

  “This maman mechan. Evil mother.” Roseline continued. “There’s not enough time right now to tell you every bad thing I’m thinking about her,” she finished with more choice words in Creole, the native tongue she defaulted to whenever angry or excited. She moved swiftly, with the precision of a retired nurse whose skills remained sharp from volunteering at a local shelter each week. “Irresponsible and selfish,” she spat out.

  Bertho grabbed Nathaniel’s car seat and the diaper bag, deposited the gifts in the trunk, locked the car, and followed her in. They’d worry about cleaning up the food mess in the morning. They had a much bigger mess to clean up right now. “That poor baby,” Bertho mumbled to himself as he walked, still in disbelief. “My gut told me that mother was struggling. The police need to find her and get her help,” he finished in Creole. “But they shouldn’t give her back this baby.”

  Reina sat at the police station in a quiet daze, numbed. Nathaniel had been missing for the last 2 hours, 30 minutes, and 25 seconds. Jared’s death had come as a shock. One day she was going about her life, working, and then came a literal knock on her door with news that brought her to her knees. There hadn’t been time to sit around imagining every possible terrible outcome as she was doing now.

  “Why is it taking so long to track the owner of the medallion!” Reina raised from the seat and marched back to the front desk. Eli followed quietly behind her as he’d been doing every ten minutes since they’d arrived.

  The officer in charge had been losing his patience with answering her questions. The man had been rude bordering on disrespectful, unlike the rest of his staff, including officers Morrison and Connelly who’d driven Eli and Reina to the precinct. Instead of showing her compassion, Officer Miller had been treating her as a criminal and not as someone deserving of help. He hadn’t been especially friendly when interviewing her about Nate’s disappearance. Tough! she thought. He can keep looking at me with suspicion all he wants to.

  “As I said ten minutes ago, we have the medallion information, but the owner is out of the country and often rents out his cab to several drivers. We’re following up on a promising lead near Greenpoint,” the officer repeated through almost gritted teeth.

  Eli responded, “That’s up the block from Jason’s precinct. My friend Jason Downing is a lieutenant.”

  “Is he on duty?” Miller demanded.

  “On medical leave for a few more months.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” he offered reluctantly.

  “Thanks,” Eli answered. “I’ve been keeping him posted. His team’s the one that brought down that burglary ring two years ago targeting cab drivers in that neighborhood. If anyone’s going to know a driver, it’s them.”

  “That sting was impressive.”

  “Mind if I give him a heads up this is happening in his backyard? He’s there now, dropping off some paperwork. Maybe he can go look around.”

  The officer regarded Eli with suspicion. “He’s on leave. If something goes wrong, we’re all screwed.”

  “Goes wrong? What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me? Is my son in danger?” Reina, who had stayed quiet to keep from saying something that could get her arrested, panicked. Her anxiety escalating, she almost missed hearing the officer mutter a one-word expletive under his breath.

  “Forgive me, ma’am,” he said, his tone making the polite words sound like an insult. Angry grooves deepened his forehead. “I misspoke. We have no reason to believe your son is in any danger.”

  “And you have no reason to believe he isn’t.” Reina pushed back. “Sir, whatever you need to do to find my son, do it! Whatever other precincts you need to bring in to help, bring them in. This isn’t the time for a pissing contest. Nate’s been missing long enough. I don’t care who finds him so long as he’s found safe and brought back home.” Reina stomped away, angry and scared. She stayed close enough to stare down Miller.

  Eli rattled off a number. “That’s Jason’s badge. Call the precinct and check on him. He can help. They all can.”

  “Now look here, you and your,” He focused hateful eyes on Reina and spat out “neighbor” before continuing, “you’re not about to tell me how to run this investigation.”

  “Maybe not, but I can have this place swimming in everything from reporters to local politicians. You can explain to the public why your bigotry is putting the life of a harmless three-month-old in danger.” Without giving him a chance to rebut, Eli finished, “You hate us and want us out of your hair, fine. Do your job. That’ll get us out of here faster.” He marched away from Officer Miller and returned to Reina.

  Reina’s fear and anger converged into burning tears. “If anything happens to Nate because of this man’s hatred and arrogance.” She grabbed her coat and stalked toward the exit. “I need to go out there and find my son.”

  Eli gently touched her arm. “Reina, wait. You’re scared. And worried, with good reason. But this is the best place to be right now.” She threw him a look that said otherwise. “Even if Officer Miller isn’t doing his job, everyone else is. Nate’s picture is all over social media, and so’s the sketch of the driver. People are looking for them.” Eli extended his hand to direct her back inside. She hesitated before sighing and returning to her seat. “If you don’t trust anyone else, Jason’s my best friend. You can trust him.” From a distance, Reina spotted Officer Miller’s hateful stare.

  “Let’s step outside and give Jace a call. Bring him up to speed,” said Eli.

  Reina couldn’t move fast enough and was already rushing out the door with Eli following closely behind.

  Lieutenant Jason Downing answered on the first ring.

  “Jace, you’re on speaker. Reina, Jason. Jason, Reina.”

  “Good to meet you, Reina. Sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

  “You, too. Hope you have some good news to change that.”

  “Don’t want to get your hopes up yet, but me and two of my guys think we recognize the driver.”

  Reina couldn’t contain her excitement.

  “Can’t say for sure, mind you, but you don’t forget that ear.”

  “Oh, thank you God,” Reina whispered. For the first time in months, it felt like God was still listening to her.

  “We worked with him closely on that burglary case and have his address on file. If it’s him, we’ve tracked the right driver.”

  “Are you there now? Is Nate okay?”

  “I’ve just arrived. Will let you know as soon as I know,” Jason answered.

  Soon after hanging up with Jason, Reina learned a very nervous man reported someone left a baby in his cab. A quick call back to Jason confirmed Mr. Bertho Montdesir was the same person he was on his way to visit.

  “Tell your buddy to stand down,” Officer Miller ordered.

  “What?” Reina yelled. “Why? He’s already there.”

  Miller’s lips thinned. He turned his back on her and addressed Eli. “Your guy can’t pick up the driver and the kid in a civilian car.”

  Reina spotted the exact moment Eli registered Officer Miller’s offe
nsive behavior. Eli’s mouth slacked and his brows furrowed. He widened his stance and took a short step forward. Before he could reach Officer Miller, Reina caught his gaze. Leave it alone, she told him with her eyes. He opened his mouth and quickly closed it. He nodded and backed off.

  “Fine,” Reina answered, as if Miller hadn’t ignored her. “Nate can come home in a spaceship, as long as he comes home.”

  “Morrison and Connelly are on their way to Brooklyn,” Officer Miller spat out and walked off.

  Hours after arriving at the station, Reina almost tripped over officers while rushing to grab a newly returned Nate.

  “You’re going to let her take the baby?” Mrs. Montdesir yelled at Officer Connelly, while holding tight to Nate. “How could you? She left him in a stranger’s car.”

  “Ma’am,” Officer Morrison jumped in, “again, Mrs. Blackwell didn’t abandon her son. She’s been worried sick. This was all an unfortunate mistake.”

  “Tsk.” Mrs. Montdesir turned her nose up as if assaulted by a terrible stench. “My Bertho told me the poor baby was crying so hard in his taxi and this mother couldn’t even feed him properly.”

  Officer Miller entered the conversation. “Ma’am, sir. Are you accusing Mrs. Blackwell of child abuse?”

  Reina’s piercing scream of disbelief drew all eyes in her direction. “No, no. That’s a lie.” She rushed over to Mrs. Montdesir to snatch her son away.

  Mrs. Montdesir turned to her husband and said in Creole, “Toto, look at the anguish in that girl’s eyes. I don’t think she’s lying. I think she honestly loves her son.”