by Nikki Duvall
Now that they were faced with a long wait among a hundred other impatient New Yorkers, Ty seemed to be getting his second wind. He fidgeted in Halee’s arms, pushing off her chest in two directions, one frontward, one over her shoulder, both intended to plummet like a Toy Story character head first toward the concrete airport floor. These escape attempts were consuming Halee’s full attention and distracting her fellow travelers from a long, tedious wait, some in a good way, some not so much. His protest screams hadn’t quite reached full crescendo, but Halee knew a temper tantrum was imminent if she didn’t get him to a place where he could get his knees on the ground. This kid had more energy than she ever imagined a seven month old child could have. If he didn’t walk by the time he was ten months old, he would surely blow out both knees on all his trousers.
“Aren’t you a busy little boy?” A woman with a gray jerry curl and flesh colored Velcro shoes tickled Ty’s exposed belly. Ty reached both arms overhead and hurled his full weight in a backward spiral, sending both him and Halee within several inches of the hard floor. “They have leashes for children, you know,” said the woman. “You just fasten one end around his waist and he gets a little freedom. And Mom,” she said, eyeballing Halee’s wrinkled, stained blouse in sympathy, “doesn’t throw her back out trying to catch him.”
“He isn’t walking yet,” said Halee.
“How old?”
“Seven months.”
“He’s tall. Is his father tall?”
“I don’t know who his father is,” said Halee.
The woman raised a brow.
“He’s not mine. I mean, he is, but… I’m trying to adopt him.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s yours. I just thought maybe…you never know these days. People are having children with everyone. Oh- we’re next.”
Halee pulled a protesting Ty back into her arms and reached into her bag for her ticket and identification.
The TSA officer watched with an irritable look. “You had how long to get your paperwork ready? Now you’re holding up the line.”
“Sorry,” said Halee. “I thought it was right here.”
The TSA agent shook his head. “Next in line.”
“She’s almost ready,” protested the older woman. “Just give her a minute.”
A young man in a designer suit shoved himself in front of Halee and sprinted through the checkpoint. She spotted her stack of papers in her bag and straightened with a smile. “Ready.”
The TSA agent held out his hand without making eye contact. “Where are you going today?”
“Oklahoma.”
The agent sneered. “Why?”
“Well…”
“Rhetorical question. This your kid?”
“No. I mean, yes. I’m adopting him.”
“The kid needs papers. I don’t suppose you can find them in fifteen minutes or less?”
“They’re right here.”
The agent scrutinized her temporary custody papers. “Aren’t you a little young to be adopting?”
“Apparently not,” mumbled Halee. She stuffed her papers and stamped boarding pass back into her bag and wiggled out of her sweater. Ty had mercifully become enamored with her gold drop earrings and was resting stationary on her left shoulder. Balancing him there, she slipped out of her shoes, pulled a laptop out of one of the overnight bags, extracted her makeup bag and managed to stack everything in bins.
“God knows what he’s doing, giving babies to the young,” said the old woman. “It’s a miracle how you young people can bend.”
Halee laughed.
“He’ll keep you slim,” said the woman with a wink. “Good luck to you both.”
An hour later Halee had managed to feed Ty a biscuit and some fruit and had laid him on a thin changing blanket in the gate area with a bottle of milk she’d convinced a Latino restaurant worker to warm for her in broken Spanish. She was fast gaining appreciation for the ability to use the washroom whenever she felt the urge. Knowing the limited size of an airplane lavatory, her best bet would be to maneuver the one across from the gate before they started boarding. Too late. They were calling for first class already.
“Come on, Buddy.” Ty opened one eye lazily as she pulled him into her chest, and then hoisted the two bags over one shoulder. Something between a groan and a song was coming from his little throat as he sucked the warm milk from his bottle. Halee couldn’t help but smile.
“Let me help you with that.” She felt the weight of the bags lifted from her shoulder and smiled up into a tan and weathered handsome face lightly salted with faded red freckles. It was a face she’d seen many times on the cover of news magazines.
“You are…”
“Jack Keeting,” said the handsome stranger. “I’ll handle your bags if you promise not to tell anyone.”
“Who you are or that you help women in need?”
Jack’s pale green eyes brightened and the wrinkled corners lifted. “Either. On an adventure?”
“Business, actually.”
“With the little tyke?”
“Separation anxiety.”
“Him or you?”
“Me.”
“Gotcha.” They settled across the aisle from each other in first class. While the flight attendant held Ty, Halee managed to change her shirt and visit the loo. On the way back to her seat, she stole a closer look at Jack. Handmade cowboy boots freshly shined, Rolex on a thin freckled arm. His legs were unnaturally long. He looked stuck in his seat, even with the extra legroom. As luck would have it, the seat next to hers remained unsold. As soon as they were airborne, she fixed a safe bed for a slumbering Ty in the dimly lit cabin and pulled out a magazine.
“You again,” she said to Jack, pointing out his face on the cover.
“Shhh! You promised.”
“No company jet?”
“They attract the paparazzi,” he whispered. “Easier to fade into the crowd this way.” He leaned a little closer. “What’s your m.o.?”
“Halee McCarthy.” She leaned over to shake his hand. “I’m a professional fundraiser. I work for Federals Charities in New York. Just started.”
Jack nodded with obvious appreciation. “Good gig. And the child?”
“I’m adopting him.”
Jack glanced at her naked ring finger and raised his brows. “Alone?”
Halee shrugged. “Why not?”
“That’s awfully brave.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.”
“How does it feel?”
Halee stroked Ty’s little head for a minute. “Natural.”
Jack’s face lit up in a warm smile. “That’s one lucky child.”
“How about you? Any kids?”
“Two boys, grown and gone. I married a beauty queen. Motherhood wasn’t natural for her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I should have had the sense to find someone like you. Beauty, brains and a warm heart. Where are you staying?”
“I don’t know exactly. Somewhere near Kadele.”
“Why don’t you come out to the ranch with me? I could use the company.”
Halee furrowed her brows. “Do you always pick up women on airplanes?”
Jack looked thoughtful, almost sad. “No. But I’m glad I’m starting.”
“Thanks for the offer. You’ll understand if I decline.”
“Can I buy you a drink instead?”
“A very dilute one,” said Halee. “I need all my wits to manage this little firecracker.”
“Wine?”
“Sure.”
“White or red?”
“Red.”
He motioned to the flight attendant and waited till Halee had glass in hand. Then he raised his own. “To motherhood and all the women who do it so well.”
“Don’t rush to conclusions,” warned Halee. “This career thing could get in the way.”
“Federals, huh? You have a new centerfielder to finish out the season. I hear he’s quite the talent
.”
“Yes, he is.” Halee took a sip of wine and smiled, remembering the taste of J.D.’s wine soaked lips on hers.
“Know him?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Shaw, right?”
“Jonathan Dillon Shaw. His friends call him J.D.”
“I see I have a little competition.”
Halee blushed. “What makes you say that?”
“Something about you changed when I mentioned him.”
“You’re very different people, I assure you.”
“Probably not that different,” said Jack. “Men who excel in business or sports do so for one reason. We’re all driven.” He smiled and studied her with a knowing look. “That can be hard on the women who love us.”
Halee laughed lightly and played with one earring, feeling a little like her soul was on display.
“Aha. Just as I suspected. Our young Shaw has struck gold. Don’t give up on him, Halee McCarthy. Make him work as hard to make you happy as he has getting to the major leagues.” Jack handed her his business card. “And if he breaks your heart, look me up.”
***
Halee tossed her overnight bags into the trunk of her rental car and punched Kadele, Oklahoma into her GPS. By her calculations, Kadele was an hour’s drive from the Tulsa airport. After that she was at a loss. Victoria’s directions showed Faye Shaw’s address as a post office box and nothing else. She’d have to rely on the friendliness of townsfolk to point her in the direction of Faye’s physical home. And on the friendliness of Faye to answer the door.
Something about this trip had Halee’s shackles raised. In her mind, there was no need to arrive unannounced and coerce Faye Shaw into attending her son’s engagement party. If J.D. wanted her at the party, he could invite her himself. A part of Halee wanted to set up residence in a hotel in Tulsa, tell Victoria Pryor that she’d come up empty handed, and head back on the early morning flight to New York. The other part of her couldn’t resist investigating J.D.’s roots.
She and Ty had found an upscale hotel on the edge of the airport just at the stroke of midnight and had snuggled under the soft down comforter until the sun came up. Day by day, she could see the change in her new baby. He no longer woke up several times a night and when he cried, there was less desperation in his voice. Whenever she walked into the room, he smiled as though he had always been hers. Sometimes she couldn’t remember how she’d lived without him.
After a full hour of tickling and peek-a-boo and a makeshift breakfast of oatmeal and fruit followed by a warm bottle of milk, he was once again ready to sit in a car seat long enough for her to find J.D.’s home town. In fact, Ty seemed to be enamored with the scenery flying by and by the time Halee pulled off the interstate and onto the rural road leading to Kadele, he was cooing at the fields of cotton and squealing in greeting at herds of cattle along the way. “You’re a good traveler, young Ty,” said Halee from the front seat with more than a little relief. “That’s going to work really well for your new mama.”
Kadele, population 683, had no definite beginning or end. A Dairy Queen, a Pizza Hut and a gas station interrupted a twenty mile stretch of reddish brown dust, which in turn blended into a giant ball field complex complete with night lighting and a fairground where, according to a huge sign, ranchers could bring their livestock to sell on a weekly basis. On the backside of the ball field sat a low stucco building marked as both the elementary school and town library. Halee pulled into the post office/ hardware store combination and left the car running.
A string of bells attached to the door announced her arrival and prompted a sleeping hound dog mix to sound off a three alarm yelp, sending her several steps backward. The place was poorly lit and smelled like old tires and fresh linseed oil. A heavy set man with three chins and no lap looked up briefly and then did a double take. “Barney, heel!” he commanded. He cleared his throat and set his newspaper aside, smoothing what was left of his thinning blonde hair. “May I help you, young lady?”
Halee held out her hand for the dog to sniff, watching him carefully. He looked a little rough around the edges, like he’d spent more time casing the Dairy Queen dumpster than sitting by the fire. “I’m looking for Faye Shaw.”
“I expect she’s at home.”
Halee nodded, glancing back at Ty talking to his toes in the running car. “I don’t know where that is.”
The man took his time inspecting her silk sweater, then her rental car, making up his mind about her. The dog retreated to a worn out mat at the back of the store, disappointed by another false alarm. Halee let her eyes roam the shelves of Monty’s Hardware and tried to picture a young J.D. in this town.
“That your youngin?”
“Yes.”
“Take up with a colored boy, did ya?”
Halee straightened her spine. “Like I said, I’m looking for Faye Shaw.”
“I ain’t seen you around these parts.”
And you won’t again, thought Halee to herself. “I work for the New York Federals,” she said more firmly. “I need to talk with Mrs. Shaw about J.D.”
“I guessed as much,” said the man in a matter of fact tone. “He in some kind of trouble? J.D. always had a penchant for trouble…”
“Not at all. I just want to talk with his mother.”
“His mother is dead. Died bringing him into this world. His daddy’s dead, too. Mexican good for nothing by the name of Carmenas, spent more time in jail than out.”
And so the dark good looks, thought Halee. One mystery solved. “Then who is Faye Shaw?”
“Faye worked on the ranch where J.D. was born. Spinster woman, never cared much for marrying. Took little Jose Carmenas in and raised him like her own. Gave him her last name.”
“So where can I find this Faye Shaw?”
“You leave me a note, I’ll get it to Faye.”
“I need to talk with her face to face.”
Monty sighed and trudged over to a rotary phone behind the counter. Keeping his eyes focused on Halee, he dialed seven digits and then waited, settling on a rickety corner stool.
Halee paced the creaking wooden floor, wondering whether she should get Ty from the car. From here he looked content, spending the majority of his energy trying to eat the padded lining of the car seat’s safety belt. The interior of the car was surely more comfortable than this musty old store. The temperature display on the Pizza Hut’s marquee read 85 degrees. It was only 10 A.M. Monty didn’t seem to mind.
“Well hello there, Faye. How have you been doing?”
Halee raised her brows and waited.
“I ain’t seen you or Glenda in town for quite some time. You ain’t been shopping down in Carlisle at those chain stores, now have ya?”
Halee checked her watch. Maybe she wasn’t on an exact schedule, but she sure as heck didn’t want to stay in Kadele any longer than necessary.
“I hear Hank’s been suffering with the rheumatism.”
Halee glared at Monty. He summarily ignored her.
“You plannin’ on attendin’ the church picnic this Sunday? Oh, I know it. I ain’t been good at getting’ there on Sunday neither.”
Enough was enough. Halee spinned on her heels and headed for her car, letting the screen door slam behind her. Monty wasn’t the only one with the knowledge of Faye’s address in this town. She’d just put the car in reverse when Monty sauntered out onto the front porch and motioned for her to lower the window.
“She said she’ll see ya,” he said, slipping a piece of paper into Halee’s hand. “Two miles north, turn left and follow the creek till you cross the railroad tracks. Drive another mile until you see the Double HL ranch on your right. Hers is the powder blue trailer set up on the hill.”
~SIXTEEN~
Faye Shaw dumped out a bucket of dirty soap water and briefly admired the fresh shine on her kitchen floor. She hadn’t kept up very well with her housekeeping lately. Once J.D. had moved out, it didn’t seem necessary to cook or to clean. Besides the b
ridge club that changed houses every week, Hank was about her only company, poor company at that. But things were changing in a hurry.
First, J.D. had about knocked down her door in the middle of the night Tuesday, carrying on about an emergency and an accident. Once he’d taken stock of the situation and demanded about fifty times that she guarantee that she wasn’t sick or hurt or lacking for anything, he’d settled into the back bedroom and slept like he used to when he was growing an inch a month, waking up only to the smell of dinner in the late afternoon. He’d been crazily attentive, making her sit while he did the dishes, fixing this and that around the trailer. The sling was off his shoulder, and he only rubbed it occasionally at the end of the day. He hadn’t said a word about what had brought him to Oklahoma and she hadn’t asked. It was just good to have him home.
And then came the call from Monty, announcing that a fancy woman from New York was in town looking for her. Something about J.D. Something the woman could only tell her face to face. Things were getting stranger by the minute.
She’d just finished changing into a clean pair of pressed shorts and one of her better knit sleeveless tops when she heard the crunch of gravel on the driveway. Mack and Chance began their half-hearted barking, confirming that it wasn’t J.D., who’d left for town a few hours earlier to talk to the realtor. She pulled back the perfectly starched white lace curtains and watched as a tall well-dressed strawberry blonde leaned over into the backseat of a mush colored Buick and lifted out a pudgy baby boy. The boy was three shades darker than his caregiver, and overdressed for the Oklahoma heat. He giggled as the young woman tickled his belly, then his toes, lifting him high above her head and pretending to fly while making airplane noises. Faye had been bracing herself for a pushy New York executive, but by the way she was kissing that baby, this young woman didn’t fit that bill at all. She wondered whose baby he was, and what the two of them were doing here.
J.D. pulled into the driveway before she had a chance to find out.