The door swung open, and Gretchen turned quickly.
It was just Ray, but his face was angry. “You didn’t have the door locked?” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe this. “There is a lock right here on the door. I could have been Sunny or Judy or Klaus. That would have given everything away.” He flung his arms up over his head and spun in place.
“Relax, Ray.”
“Relax?” He began to pace, knotting his T-shirt around a thumb, muttering to himself. To Gretchen, he looked like the hairy animal he was, and with two-day stubble on his face, he looked even darker, even hairier. Like an ape, she thought, giggling to herself as she recalled the story Sunny had told about his birth.
“You’re laughing at me?” Ray stopped short at the foot of the futon and faced her with a quizzical squint.
“Ray, I was sitting right here. My body would have blocked anyone from seeing the baby.”
“Now there you’re wrong.” He stepped toward her and shook a finger in her face. “You don’t know,” he said to her eyes. “You don’t know. It’s us against them.”
“Please, Ray.” She fussed with the Velcro on a diaper.
“We can’t trust anyone—you know that—not for a second, especially with your mother circling like a hawk.”
“My mother? How about your mother?” She picked the baby up under its shoulders and was careful to cradle its head. “Listen, Ray, I’ll be careful. We’ll be careful.”
“With your mother letting that reporter nose around, we’ll be lucky if strangers don’t scale the building and break in through a window to find out the sex.”
“That’s silly.” Gretchen yawned. “You’re acting paranoid. Nobody’s that interested.”
“Me, paranoid? Remember the Lindberghs,” Ray went on, moving to the window. He stood with his back to her, the muscles of his jaw clenched. “That could be us. It could all come down around us.”
“Nothing’s coming down around us. Breathe, Ray, breathe.” Gretchen leaned back against the pillows with the baby on her chest and began rubbing its shoulders in soothing circles. She studied Ray, his thin hips, the veins pulsing in his arms. The dark cotton curtains on either side of him looked like the opening to a stage, the blue sky through the window a set. At any moment, she expected a pair of invisible wires to carry him up so he could fly away.
He had flown into her life, winged and mothlike, descending around her with his arms the first time she had met him during the performance of her friend’s shower. He had invited her back to his apartment for supper—leek soup and bread he’d baked that morning, she still remembered. They had talked late into the night, and she had stayed, falling asleep across his dark hair splayed out on the futon. Fully clothed, they hadn’t even kissed. And the same thing had happened the next night and every night after that. It was as if he had literally fallen through the ceiling into her lap, and being with him had felt as natural as breathing. For weeks, they had lived like that, slowly becoming intimate, winding around each other in the night so that she awoke in a kind of cocoon and emerged each morning like a new creature from his moth love.
“Ray,” she said now. “Remember how it was in the beginning? The two of us? Those quiet mornings?’’ Gretchen rolled onto her side. “Let’s not get so caught up in this that it ruins us.” She could see the lines along Ray’s mouth soften. She set the baby down on the bed between two pillows and watched its tiny pink hands fall like leaves around either side of its head. Then she went over to Ray and held him, pressing her belly into his back.
“Oh, Ray,” Gretchen whispered. She tightened her hold on him, nuzzling her face into his neck. He relaxed and rubbed her palms with his thumbs the way he knew she liked.
“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “It feels miraculous.”
He turned and kissed her. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
In the kitchen, Judy helped Sunny with a fruit salad. She used a melon baller to scoop perfect orbs of cantaloupe into a bowl while Sunny sliced peaches, bracelets jangling. After taking a shower, Sunny had changed into white slacks and a gauzy button-down shirt covered with great pink rhododendrons through which a black bra was vaguely visible. To Judy, she not only looked like Florida but carried its fragrance—a salty seaside smell combined with something mushy and floral. There was something frondlike in her movements, her thin arms slicing peaches, her long fingers with their daggerish nails, her wisplike hair fashioned into spikes. And to add to her jaggedness, she wore long, thin earrings made of bone.
“Did you get a chance to visit with the doctor?” Judy asked finally. She had been waiting to ask the question all afternoon, not because she wanted to know for herself, but because she wanted to know where Sunny stood. Judy had made a pact with herself to squelch any further commotion.
“No,” Sunny said, eyes on her peaches. Then she turned, her lips tight, her great penciled brows furrowed. “What have you heard from Rusty?”
Judy shrugged and nibbled a piece of cantaloupe.
“You mentioned that he had to take a sudden trip.” Sunny paused. “Have you heard from him?”
“No,” Judy said. She had decided to keep talk about Rusty to a minimum. She had told Gretchen and Ray that Rusty sent his apologies, that he had been called away on a business trip. She was glad that they hadn’t pressed for further information. After all, everyone knew Rusty never took business trips.
“Judy, I don’t know whether I should tell you this.” Sunny set her knife down on the cutting board. “I have a very bad feeling about your husband.” She folded her hands and proceeded carefully, taking her time to find the words. “I get visions sometimes, I think I told you, and for the most part I keep these to myself until I can back them up. But”—she swallowed—“I’ve had a returning vision, ever since last night, of Rusty lying somewhere in a wooded area.” She bit her lip. “He was dead.”
Judy felt Sunny awaiting a reaction. Her deep-set eyes seemed to go right through Judy. And to herself, Judy said, I see right through you, too. Sunny was just practicing one of her scare tactics, probably trying to sell her on the idea of driving back to Fort Cloud for the night. Then Sunny would be alone in the apartment with Gretchen and Ray. She’d try to get her dragon fingers on the baby, pull back its diaper, peer with great pleasure at its damp, pink flesh, so new, still godlike and innocent. It seemed suddenly grotesque to Judy that parents ever talked about their child’s privates to anyone at all.
“Pfff.” Judy waved a hand and returned to her melon baller. “Rusty probably just stopped somewhere to take a nap.”
Sunny leaned forward on her elbows and looked up at Judy across the counter, her head nodding slowly back and forth, her bone earrings knocking softly against her jaw. “I don’t think so,” she said, her voice almost inaudible. Then she rinsed her hands at the sink and left the room.
Judy finished the cantaloupe. She was determined not to let Sunny’s intimidation techniques affect her. Sunny was wily, that’s what she was. She was a saleswoman, and this was one deal she was not going to seal. Butter people up and stick it to them. The whole prepartum party, the fetus muumuus—it had all been part of Sunny’s performance. From now on, Judy was going to watch her every move.
That evening, just as everyone sat down to supper, Hael stopped by with a card and some muffins. She stepped through the doorway, looking wide-eyed and ruffled, M16 wrapped around one leg.
“I can’t stay long,” she said. “Just wanted to say hello before we go.”
“Where are you going?” Ray asked, scooting his chair back, the baby over one shoulder, but before Hael could answer, little M16 began jumping up and down and asking, “What’s he/ she’s name?”
Hael bent over and whispered something into M16’s ear.
“It’s okay,” Gretchen said. “We don’t have a name picked out yet,” she told M16.
A smile crossed M16’s face. “I’ve got a name.”
“Yes?�
�� Gretchen tilted her head to the side and smiled at little M16, who was wearing a pair of black overalls and shiny new black clogs.
M16’s arms swung in circles; the little mouth grinned a neat row of white teeth. “Barbie,” M16 whispered.
“M16!” Hael looked up, embarrassed. “I found one by the front stoop in the bushes,” she said, her voice agitated. “And, after a long talk, I let M16 play with it.”
A silence fell across the room. Hael looked at the faces gathered around the dinner table and suddenly burst into tears. “I can’t take it,” she said. “My parents aren’t cooperating, and Glyn’s angry with me for even calling them. Everything’s a mess.” She turned and opened the door, scooting M16 into the hall amid her sobs.
It was Ray who leaped from the table. “I’ll handle this. You all eat,” he said as he passed the baby to Gretchen. He ducked out with an amicable wave.
Supper was quiet. Judy noticed that Sunny hardly ate her food—grilled tofu, Asian slaw, fruit salad. Klaus was the only one who smiled. “Any breakthroughs on a name?” he asked Gretchen as she nursed, leaning over the baby to eat.
“No,” she said quietly, then, “Well, we have one, but we’d like to wait for the right occasion to announce it.”
“It’d be nice to call it something.” He laughed. “What about you, Judy, any word from Rusty?” Klaus met Judy’s eyes across the table and popped a melon ball onto his tongue.
So he’s in on it, too, Judy thought. “He’s still on his business trip as far as I know.” Judy smiled extra brightly at everyone around the table.
“Dad doesn’t take business trips, does he?” Gretchen asked slowly, shifting the baby to her other breast.
Judy averted her gaze. “No, not usually. This must have been a special circumstance.”
“Well, where’d he go?” Gretchen persisted.
Judy looked at her daughter and blinked quickly, as if she could convey something via Morse code. She took her time. “He’s in New York,” she said. “Yes, New York.”
“That’s a long way,” Gretchen said. “I hope he flew.”
“No.” Judy looked at her long and hard. “He chose to drive.”
“Mom!” Gretchen’s voice was shrill. “He can hardly see. He shouldn’t be driving that far at his age. And didn’t you see him when he was here? He looked terrible. He looked like”—she paused, frowning—“he’d been dieting. I told Ray I thought he looked sick.”
“Who’d like another glass of Chablis?” Judy asked, pushing her chair back before anyone could answer. “Just me? Well, okay then.”
Ray came in, closing the front door behind him.
“What’s the matter? Is everything okay?” Gretchen turned in her chair.
He shook his head at her and sat back down at the head of the table across from his mother. He studied the food on his plate for a minute as if it seemed unfamiliar, his lips pursed. Then he said, “Hael needs to check out for a while. She’s headed to a retreat center up in Willard, Wisconsin, and she’s quitting the show.”
“What?” Gretchen said.
Ray nodded.
“She can’t go.” Gretchen swung the baby onto her shoulder. “You guys can’t dump the show. You’ve been working on it for over a year.”
“I know,” Ray said, standing up and turning in a circle by his chair. “She wants to can it. The whole thing down the toilet.”
“What’s this, now?” Klaus asked.
“Ray’s been working on another performance art piece,” Sunny informed him. “About his experiences in the intentional community.”
Ray rubbed his chin, then put a finger across his lips. “No,” he said. “I can’t cancel it, I won’t. It’s in a month.”
“I bet you’ll sell a lot of tickets if that story comes out in the paper,” Klaus piped up, giving a rowdy har-har.
“I don’t care about the publicity,” Ray said. “It’s a matter of integrity. Gretchen”—he pointed to her, his eyes suddenly aspark—“you’ve got to play the female role.” He licked his lips quickly, excitedly. “You have to.”
“No,” she said, raising a hand. “No way.”
“I’ll condense the part,” Ray went on, scratching his head now, tapping a foot. He looked up at the ceiling. “It’s mostly my show anyway. Hael played a minor role, and I could easily rewrite her part myself.”
“Ray, hello!” Gretchen waved her hand at him across the table. “I’ve never acted. I am not going to debut after having just given birth. I’ve got to stay with the baby.”
“We could help out,” Sunny ventured softly.
Judy, who was listening from the kitchen, froze.
“Let’s not discuss this now,” Gretchen said, turning back to the table with a long sigh. “Thanks for dinner, everyone.” She forced a smile. “It’s been a long day. I think the baby and I are going to retire.”
Judy stepped out of the kitchen with her wineglass and watched her daughter shuffle down the hall, the baby’s head on her shoulder. Just as Gretchen pushed the door to the bedroom open, the baby spit up all down her back.
“Wait,” Judy called. “I’ll bring a towel.” She skittered back into the kitchen, then whisked back to the far bedroom, closing the door behind her. “You’ve got to be careful,” she whispered to Gretchen as she dabbed the back of her T-shirt with a dishrag. “Sunny and Klaus are up to something. They’re scheming to find out the sex of the baby.”
Gretchen shook her head. “Mom, calm down. Why don’t you head home for the night? You’ve done enough.”
Judy licked her lips and put a hand on her hip. “Your father left me,” she said.
“What?” Gretchen, who was preparing to sit down on the bed, suddenly stood up. “He what?”
“When I got home from the hospital, all his things were gone. Everything.” Judy threw her arms in the air.
The baby whimpered. Gretchen bounced on the balls of her feet and patted its back in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. “Mom,” Gretchen said when the baby had quieted, “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay,” Judy said. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay—at least for the night.”
Chapter 17
NIGHT WATCH
That night, for the second time that week, Judy took the insert out of her pump, flipped it over, and dialed the number. Instead of being at a highway rest stop this time, she was at a trendy café with amber walls and mood lighting, couples talking in hushed voices as they toasted marshmallows over small tableside hibachis. After Gretchen and Ray had disappeared into their bedroom with the baby, after Sunny had readied her air mattress in the nursery and helped Judy make up a bed on the couch, Judy had sneaked out. To Klaus, who was washing the dishes and combing the television stations for entertainment news, she said, “I’m just going to go out for a little air.”
She’d asked a neighbor where the closest coffee shop was, and he’d directed her down the block. Now she stood off to the side of the cappuccino bar, balancing on one leg, a shoe in her hand.
Carson answered. “I’ve got a problem here,” she said. “Your father’s taken off for good, and Sunny and Klaus are up to something. Sunny says she knows what the baby’s sex is. She thinks she’s psychic.”
“What can I do?” he asked, his voice soft on the other end of the line.
“I don’t know,” Judy said. “I don’t even know why I called.” She scratched her head, suddenly confused.
“It’s all right,” Carson said. “You just needed someone to confide in.”
“I think Rusty’s dead,” Judy went on. “I just have this feeling.”
A woman drinking a latte at a bar next to Judy flashed her a dirty look. Judy put her hand over the mouthpiece and said, “Mind your business.”
“It would serve him right,” Carson was saying.
“Yes, I know,” Judy nodded.
“This is bad timing, though, you’re right.” Carson’s voice was matter-of-fact. “And I didn’t like Sunny or Klaus.”
/>
“I’m afraid they’ll look down the baby’s diaper,” Judy said. “Gretchen and Ray are so tired they might not even hear someone break into their room.”
The woman with the latte looked at Judy again, then moved one stool to the right with her magazine.
“Oh, God,” Carson said, drawing in a quick breath. “That would be devastating for them.”
“I know,” Judy said. “I just want to do what’s best for Gretchen.”
“Then you’ve got to be vigilant.” Carson’s voice was full of energy. “Mom, this is your chance. You’ve got to take this in your hands. You’re the only one who can.”
“Yes,” Judy whispered, her voice full of renewed conviction. “I’m going to keep watch all night.”
“Good,” said Carson. “I can come over in the morning and do the day shift.”
“I love you,” Judy said.
“Thanks for calling, Ma,” Carson said.
Judy stopped by her car on the way back to Gretchen’s apartment. She hadn’t wanted to resort to this, but it just so happened that she had Rusty’s old gun in the trunk from target practice. The question was how to sneak it in past Klaus and into the house.
She’d picked up a double latte and was gulping it in the shadow of some elms when it occurred to her that she could slide the gun down her dress and fake a stomach cramp on her way past the couch. When she was sure no one was looking, she lifted the rifle out of the cello case where she kept it wrapped in a towel, checked the safety, and slid it down against her leg. She held the barrel in place with both hands and went limping up to the front door.
Klaus let her in. “I’m just getting ready to head out,” he told her. “Sunny’s already found her way to air-mattress land. You okay?” he asked her as she limped through the living room toward the couch. “You look a little uncomfortable there.”
Maybe Baby Page 20