She wasn’t even a day old, but she was a living, breathing baby, the same one he’d felt kicking when Jordan had let him touch her stomach at New Day. This baby was a miracle. The fact that she’d survived her mother’s first few months of pregnancy, when Jordan was still using meth, proved that God was looking out for her. To be born at home, in such neglect, to a meth-addicted mom who was practically a kid herself …
Jordan’s thinking was muddled, yet she’d thought clearly enough to save her baby from that couple who’d come to take it.
He jostled and patted the baby, trying to make her stop crying, as he racked his brain for what to do. If he called his mother, she would certainly call in the police, and they’d take the baby away from him before Jordan had the chance to come and get her back.
The baby finally stopped crying. He had done something right.
“See?” he whispered in a soft voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m your friend.”
Carefully, he laid the baby on his bed and covered her with part of his bedspread. Raking his hands through his hair, he took a few steps back, trying to decide what to do. If the police got involved, who knew what would happen to her? Maybe something good. Maybe they would get Jordan out of that house and arrest everyone else.
Or they might give the baby right back to her family, which meant she could be adopted by that strange couple, or set on a lifelong track of foster care, going from home to home. He couldn’t let that happen to her, could he?
He needed advice. Someone who could tell him what to do, without going ballistic.
He picked up his landline phone and dialed the number for New Day. The weekend counselor picked up the phone.
“Hello, it’s a New Day.”
“Hey,” he said. “This is Emily’s brother, Lance.”
“Hi, Lance.” He recognized the gruff, phlegmatic voice of Sue, one of the counselors.
“Listen, I need to talk to Emily. It’s real important.”
“Sorry, Lance. She’s already had her quota of phone calls for the day.”
“But it’s an emergency. Seriously, I need to talk to her.”
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Rules are rules.”
“This is about Jordan Rhodes,” he said.
Sue hesitated. “What about her?”
“I saw her today. I went by her house. She’s not doing good. She needs to come back to treatment. But that’s not the thing. She’s had the baby.”
“Is it okay?”
He looked at the child lying on his bed. “Yeah. No. I mean, it was born at home, and I don’t really know. Jordan’s not thinking right, and her mom is crazy.”
“We don’t take babies, Lance, but if you get her to call us we can help her find a rehab where she can keep her. Or is she still going to give it up for adoption?”
“I don’t know. You don’t understand.” He cut his sentence off, knowing better than to tell her what had happened. “I’m just thinking the baby … it’s in trouble.” He had to keep this secret, just long enough for Jordan to come get the baby. But did she even know where he lived? How would she find him?
The baby started to cry, and the counselor heard it. “Lance, are you with Jordan right now?”
“No,” he said.
“Let me talk to her. Maybe I can convince her to come in.”
“She’s not here.”
“I hear the baby. I know you’re with her. Just put her on the phone.”
He hung up and sat on the bed. What should he do? The baby was probably hungry. How was he supposed to feed her?
He took her into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a carton of 2% milk. Maybe this would work. But what would he feed her with? It wasn’t like she could drink out of a cup.
He pulled open a drawer, found a Ziploc bag. Maybe he could make some kind of nipple from it. Taking her back to his room, he laid her on the bed again. Then he poured some milk into the bag, zipped it up, and pricked a hole in the corner with a safety pin. He put it into the baby’s mouth. She tried to suckle.
Her mouth filled up too quickly, so he pulled it out and gave her a chance to swallow. She was cute, with that brown, curly hair. He didn’t even know her name. Jordan had told him nothing about her.
Sadness ached through his chest. What would happen when this kid grew up and learned that her mother had been too high to deliver her in a hospital? That she’d put her in somebody’s car to get her away from her crazy grandmother? She’d need a dozen shrinks.
He gave her the bag back, let her suckle a little more. This time she sputtered and choked. Setting the bag down, he picked her up, and her little head rolled back. Quickly he caught it, put her to his shoulder, and jostled her again. He felt milk running down his shirt. This was never going to work.
He needed a bottle, but how was he supposed to get it? Throw her back in the car and take her to the nearest drugstore? He couldn’t keep riding around with a baby lying on his seat. Getting pulled over for not having a license would be bad enough. How would he explain having a baby that wasn’t in a car seat?
He tried to think. Jacob! He had his own car, so he could make a run to the store. Lance grabbed the house phone and punched in his friend’s number.
“Whassup, man?” Jacob’s voice was grainy, as if he’d been asleep.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Lance said. “Hey, I need a huge favor. Can you run to the drugstore for me and get a few things?”
“The drugstore? Call your mom. I just woke up.”
“It’s three o’clock!”
“It’s Saturday, dude.”
“Come on, it’s an emergency.”
“I don’t even have any money, man.”
Lance went back to his room. “You have the birthday money your grandparents gave you. Use that, and I’ll pay you back when you get here.” Lance opened his dresser drawer and dug around, hoping he could find some cash somewhere. “Please, Jacob.”
“Okay, okay, what do you need? If it’s anything embarrassing, I’m not doing it.”
He wished he could just call ahead and have it ready, so Jacob wouldn’t have to know anything. But that wasn’t possible. “I’ll tell you, but no questions, okay? I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
“It’s not illegal, is it?”
“No. It’s … I need a baby bottle and some baby milk. What do they call that stuff babies drink?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. Just listen. I also need some diapers.”
“No way I’m going in a drugstore to buy diapers and bottles. What’s going on, man? You babysitting?”
There wasn’t time to explain. “Yeah, I’m babysitting for a friend. I’ll tell you everything if you’ll just bring it. Please hurry.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yeah. Seriously, man, it’s a big emergency. Hurry up, okay?”
When he hung up, he tried to give the baby another drink of milk. This time it spilled on her face, and he quickly wiped it off. No, he’d have to wait for the supplies.
He smelled something in the diaper and peeked in one leg. “Oh, no. This really isn’t funny, dude.”
Forty-five minutes later, Jacob came with the bag of things he’d asked for. When Lance met him at the door holding the baby in his arms, Jacob gaped at her. “Man, that’s a tiny one. Whose baby is that?”
“Jordan Rhodes,” he said.
“The doper? What are you doing with her kid?”
“Don’t call her a doper. She was trying to get sober. She just wanted me to watch her for a little while.”
Jacob grunted. “Why would you say yes?”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice.” He led Jacob back to his room and put the baby down on his bed. “First I’ve got to change her diaper. You ever done this before?”
Jacob threw his hands up and shook his head. “Hey, don’t look at me.”
Lance opened the diaper and winced at what he saw. “A
w, man. That is seriously sick.”
“You need some of those diaper wipes. I didn’t get any of those.”
“Go get some toilet paper out of the bathroom. Wait, get a washcloth. Wet it first.”
Jacob hesitated. “Lance, this is insane. Why don’t you call your mom to come help you?”
“Just do it, man.”
Jacob left and came back with the washcloth. Lance removed the makeshift diaper and cleaned the baby the best he could. “How do people do this?”
Jacob backed toward the door. “I have to go.”
“No, man! You gotta help me. Open the diapers.”
Jacob sighed and tore into the plastic bag. He pulled out a diaper, examined it, then handed it to Lance.
“Can’t be that hard,” Lance said, opening it and laying it under the baby. It was huge. He peeled off the tabs, folded up the front, and tried to stick it together. “It’s too big. It’ll fall off. What size did you get?”
“Hey, I didn’t know there were sizes!” Jacob looked at the bag. “Six to nine months. How old is this one?”
“Like … six to nine hours.”
Again, Jacob grunted. “What kind of mother leaves a day-old baby with some kid who doesn’t know anything?”
Lance sighed and looked around for something to make it work. He had some masking tape on his desk. He grabbed it and tried to tighten the diaper. It didn’t look good, but it was better than nothing. Maybe it wouldn’t fall off.
The baby began to cry again, and he picked her up. “Okay, time to feed her. I hope you did better with the bottles.”
“Give me a break, okay? I did the best I could.”
Lance pulled a box of bottles out of the bag. They were packed with sanitary nipples and a can of formula. He led Jacob into the kitchen as he bounced the baby. “Open the can and pour it in there for me.”
Jacob did as he was told, tightened the nipple onto the bottle, then thrust it at him. Lance sat down and positioned the screaming child on his legs. He gave her the bottle. The child latched on, suckling like she was starving. “Sweet!” he said softly. “She’s quiet.”
Jacob sat down on the ottoman in front of him. “Okay, dude, tell me about this chick who drops a baby on you. Do you two have something going that you haven’t told me about?”
“No! I just know her from school, and I would see her at New Day when I visited Emily. She bailed on treatment and had the baby, and when I went over to her house to talk her into going back, her family was chaos. People yelling, going whacko. And then I get in my car to leave, and a block away I realize she stuck the baby in my car.”
“Just like that?”
“She was trying to protect it from all that insanity in her house. It was seriously bad.”
“So call the police, man. Call your mom.”
“No, because it’ll look really bad for Jordan. I don’t want her getting in trouble. I’m expecting her to show up any time and get her back.”
Jacob watched Lance feed the baby for a few minutes. “Aren’t you supposed to burp it or something?”
“How?”
“You hold her up and pat her back.”
“Do I do it now, or after she’s done?”
“Man, I don’t know. How long have you had her?”
“I don’t know. An hour and a half, maybe.”
“And Jordan hasn’t come yet?”
“No.”
“And she hasn’t called?”
“No.”
“So what if she’s getting high somewhere and letting you do all the work? What if she has no intentions of coming?”
Lance looked down at the suddenly contented child. “I’ll worry about it then,” he said. “For now, I think we’re good.”
“What about when your mom gets home? She’s not gonna let you keep it.”
“Jordan will come before that,” Lance said.
Chapter 7
The moment Barbara pulled into the driveway, she noticed that Emily’s car had been moved. She rolled into the garage next to the Accord, her chin set, and got ready to lambaste Lance. He was chomping at the bit to drive, but surely he wasn’t dumb enough to think he could drive Emily’s car, park it in a different spot, and not pay for it big-time.
She wasn’t in the mood for this. She’d had a long afternoon. Though she’d managed to sell two beds to the family who’d come in, she’d also had to work out refunds for another family who didn’t like the custom furniture they’d just gotten. It had taken hours to work all that out.
Exhausted, she locked her car and went into the house. Things were quiet. No television or music blaring, as it usually was. Lance wasn’t laid out on the couch playing a video game with a friend.
She walked up the hall. His door was closed. “Lance?” she called.
He opened the door a few inches and slipped out quickly. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Hi, Mom.”
She set her hands on her hips. “Did you drive Emily’s car?”
He faltered for a moment, as though he hadn’t expected that. How could he think she wouldn’t notice where the car was parked?
“I … I moved it so Jacob could pull in. I’m sorry I didn’t put it back.”
“Oh, really? Why? There was plenty of room for his car in the driveway.”
Was his face pale?
“He’s not a very good driver, Mom. You should notice his fender next time. I did Emily a favor.”
She grunted. “Thanks for letting me know. I won’t let you ride with him anymore.”
He opened his mouth to protest, then let out a sigh. “Whatever.” He put his hand back on the doorknob.
That wasn’t like him. His story was clearly untrue, and now he was walking away without a protest. “What were you doing?”
“Just sitting in my room.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
She frowned. “Is someone in there, Lance? You’re talking awfully quiet.”
He shook his head quickly … too quickly. “No, I was just taking a nap.”
A nap? There had been days when she’d come home and found him asleep on the couch, with a bag of nachos on his stomach and the TV blaring. But never did he go into his room in the middle of the afternoon, turn off all electronics, and go to sleep.
But they’d had to get up early for visitation with Emily, so maybe he was tired.
The phone rang. Barbara hesitated, watching her son.
“You gonna get that?” he asked.
“I’m not finished with you,” she said, heading back to the kitchen. The caller ID said it was Charlotte. She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Barbara, I know I caught you just getting home.”
Charlotte’s voice sounded weary, raspy. It must have been a tough day of chemo. “No, it’s fine. How are you?”
“Okay today. They gave me something for nausea.”
“Did you have to go alone?”
“Yeah, but it was all right. I took a really great audio book and listened to it the whole time. But I was wondering if you happened to see J.B. today.”
Barbara wished she had better news. “I did. I gave him the stuff you sent. He put it right on.”
“How did he seem?”
“A little agitated. Tired. I tried to give him some food but he wouldn’t take it.”
“Did he ask for money?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t give it to him. Don’t ever give it to him.” Her voice cracked.
“I didn’t.”
“He’ll use it for drugs, you know.”
“I know.”
“If I could just get him some help.”
Barbara knew how hard it was when the person you loved didn’t want that help. Charlotte had tried having J.B. legally committed, but he’d created so much chaos in the treatment center that they’d let him go. His years of drug abuse had rendered him mentally ill—with bipolar and personality disorders. Or had those mental illnesses led to his self-medicating with ill
egal drugs?
No one knew for sure which came first, and it almost didn’t matter. The fact was, he was like this now. He needed help, but he wasn’t going to get it until he was willing.
“We’ll keep praying for him,” Barbara said. “He knows you love him.”
“Does he?” Charlotte’s voice faded out. “Well, anyway, I hope your day went well. Is Emily excited about graduating?”
“Ecstatic. But right now I’m worried about Lance.”
“What’s going on with Lance?”
“I don’t know. He’s just acting weird. Napping in his room, which, in itself, is pretty suspicious.” She didn’t see the usual mess he left for her to clean up, except for some milk spilt on the counter and a Walgreens bag.
Maybe he’d ridden with Jacob to the drugstore.
She went to the trash can to toss the bag, stepped on the pedal that made the top come open. Sitting on top of the trash was an open can of Similac. Frowning, she picked it up. “What is baby formula doing in my trash can?” she said into the phone.
“Baby formula?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes. An empty can of Similac.”
“I’m drawing a complete blank.”
Barbara sighed. “I’d better go. I need to talk to him.”
She hung up and went to the hallway again, knocked on Lance’s door.
After a moment, he opened it, cracking it only wide enough to slip out. Then he closed it behind him again. “What?” he asked.
“What’s going on with you? Is there something in there you don’t want me to see?”
“No, ma’am.”
That was a dead giveaway. He never called her ma’am. “Then why do you keep closing the door like that?”
“My room’s a mess. I don’t want you to get mad. I’ll clean it up.”
That didn’t fly. Lance’s room was always a mess, and he never cared, no matter how many times she told him to clean it. She brandished the can. “Lance, what is this?”
He took the can, a blank look on his face. “I don’t know. It isn’t mine.”
His ears started to redden, the way they always did when he lied. “Then whose is it?”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
Vicious Cycle Page 4