That instead he’d be fostered for sixty days, during which time a family member could step forward and request temporary custody until Marilyn could straighten things out with the legal system and get her life turned around.
“Do you have any family members who are willing to take care of him for awhile? Someone who has a stable job and who isn’t on parole or probation? Someone who doesn’t have any crimes against persons on their record?”
She almost blurted out her sister’s name. She lived just a few hours north in Grand Rapids.
But no.
It was her sister who challenged her. Who knew the baby didn’t belong to her.
Who accused her of stealing him.
Who very likely told Rebecca’s operatives where she was headed. For only she knew about Bob the parole officer.
If they went to her sister, she’d tell them Marilyn had no claim to the baby.
That she’d kidnapped him, and maybe even killed the baby’s mother.
No, it made much more sense to disown her only sister and to pretend she didn’t exist.
“Everybody in my family is dead. I don’t have anybody left except for my baby.”
“Where’s the baby’s father?”
“I haven’t seen the bastard since the day I told him I was pregnant.”
“Then I’m afraid we’ll have no option but to place him in a temporary foster home. After you’re out and pass a thirty day drug test you can petition the court for him.
“But you’ll have to convince a judge you can care for him. You’ll have to stay clean and get a job, and either live on a bus line or have transportation to get to and from work.”
Marilyn heard none of that.
She knew better.
She knew it was over.
She wasn’t using her real name.
That would slow down the process.
But they’d eventually find her, sitting in a cell in Akron, Ohio, and would go to CPS looking for the baby.
For the second time in her life she had a baby named Jacob.
And for the second time in her life she’d lost him.
She wanted to die.
Chapter 20
Rocki and Darrell left Gallup, New Mexico and headed to the Sequoia National Park in central California.
They’d never been to the park. It was one of the few they hadn’t photographed for their travel book.
They especially wanted to take a photo looking up from the base of the General Sherman Tree, believed by scientists to be the largest tree in the world.
“That will make a great cover shot,” Rocki said matter-of-factly.
She’d been practicing photography as a hobby for years and only recently realized she was good enough at it to incorporate her hobby into one of their books.
From Sequoia National Park they headed to the Golden Gate Bridge at San Francisco Bay.
Rocki’s cousin Andy was part of the work crew which was repainting the north tower and he promised some dynamite photos, if only she would loan him a good camera to carry up with him.
“You’d probably get a better shot,” he told her. “But I can’t take you up there with me. My boss would frown on it.”
“That’s okay,” Rocki told him. “I have no real desire to be up that high anyway. I’ll just adjust the settings for you and we’ll hope for the best.”
As it turned out, the shots were magnificent.
The bay was shrouded in a low fog when Andy went up, and his early shots showed the north tower above a sea of white.
While he was working the sun burned off the fog and he got some spectacular shots of the bay, including Alcatraz Island and the old federal prison in the background.
They were ahead of schedule and spent an extra day in San Francisco, taking a ferry to visit the prison.
It was a productive day.
In addition to the photos they collected two additional ghost stories for their ghost book.
One was from a park ranger on Alcatraz Island, who claimed he occasionally saw shadowy figures moving in and out of the ancient cells.
The other was from one of Andy’s co-workers who said he carried on a very long conversation with a pedestrian on the bridge the previous summer.
The man was inexplicably soaking wet, but never said why.
The worker found out later he’d committed suicide by jumping off the bridge several hours before they’d met.
They were both eerie stories, made more believable by the witnesses and the manner in which they told them.
Rocki especially was getting very good at reading people.
They’d found that many people made up their tales of ghostly activities simply to be included in the book.
But many were genuine. They truly believed what they saw or felt was real. And that there was no other logical explanation other than they had in fact seen ghosts.
Now their work in California was done. They were off to their next adventure: meeting and interviewing Julianna, the granddaughter of Madame Cervelli.
They’d spoken by phone on a couple of occasions and both were looking forward to the meeting.
Rocki and Darrell got the sense her story would be a great addition to a burgeoning tale given to them by Hannah Carson, and backed up by Jonny Cervelli.
Julianna had never really known her grandmother. Her mother had seen to that.
And she hadn’t seen her great uncle Jonny since she was a little girl.
She’d often wondered about both of them.
She was hoping to learn a little about them by talking to the writers. Her grandmother was dead now, but she hoped that perhaps she could use the story as a means of rekindling a relationship with Jonny.
And perhaps to get to know him again.
Of course, that would have to wait until later.
Right now the Yellowstone Event was occupying most of her time.
“Can we meet you at a restaurant near your home?” Rocki asked when she was setting up the interview.
“We’ll buy you a nice dinner in exchange for your story.”
Julianna said, “Normally I’d take you up on it. I love to eat. Especially when someone else is footing the bill. But I’m afraid all three of the restaurants in town have closed up shop. They’ve bugged out of here just like most of the other residents.
“How about I host you? I’m not the best cook around so it won’t be fancy. But it’ll be edible and we can talk as long as we want without worrying about the place closing and kicking us out.”
“That would be awesome. Let’s do it on Tuesday evening.”
But it was still Sunday. That left some time to kill.
The pair left California behind them, tooling along at a leisurely rate along Interstate 80. They camped for the night in eastern Nevada, then rolled into Utah and captured some spectacular photographs of the Utah Test Range.
“What is that?” Darrell asked as he looked up through the windshield of the RV.
Something was streaking across the sky at an unbelievable speed, leaving twin contrails behind it.
“I don’t know, but it’s moving pretty fast,” Rocki replied.
She grabbed her telephoto lens and tried to capture it, but it moved too quickly.
“Now we have our own UFO story to tell,” he said.
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be much of a story,” she answered. “Pretty boring as UFO stories go, actually. No little green men and no abductions. It probably wouldn’t be worth the trouble of typing it up.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Probably just some rocket the military’s testing or something.”
“Oh, my goodness. Hey, pull over and park.”
Rocki was looking over her shoulder into the cabin of the RV.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s Penny. She’s throwing up.”
Chapter 21
Darrell pulled the RV off the highway and onto the shoulder.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’
t know, honey. She seemed fine a few minutes ago. Did you feed her any sausage this morning?”
“Just a little bit.”
“I wish you’d stop giving it to her. We’ve talked about that before.”
“I know. But it’s her favorite thing.”
“It’s her favorite thing which sometimes upsets her stomach.”
Darrell picked up the dog and placed her on the couch. Rocki went to her knees and addressed her using baby talk.
Just as she always did when Penny wasn’t feeling well.
“Whassa matter, Penny baby… you gots an upset tummy?”
She stroked her head and long nose.
“Honey, look at these big sad eyes. She’s absolutely miserable.”
She addressed Penny again.
“Did your mean old daddy do this to you, honey? Did he give you some of that mean old sausage that upset your tummy? Should I shoot him and chop him into little pieces so he can’t do that anymore?”
She looked at Darrell and said, “Look, honey. She’s wagging her tail. She likes the idea of me shooting you and chopping you into little pieces.”
“No she doesn’t. She’s wagging her tail because you said ‘sausage.’ She knows more people words than you think she does.”
To prove his point he said, “Penny honey, would you like some vanilla ice cream? Would that help settle your tummy?”
Her tail wagged again, this time almost furiously.
She did indeed love a bit of sausage with her morning eggs.
But her all-time favorite thing of all was a small scoop of vanilla ice cream.
She loved it more than being scratched behind the ears.
They kept a pint of the stuff in the RV’s freezer, for the sole purpose of rewarding Penny occasionally when she was behaving exceptionally well.
Or to coat her tummy when Darrell stupidly fed her something which upset it.
He put a scoop into a dog dish and took it to her.
She lapped at it, but only half-heartedly.
And she only ate half of it, which was highly unusual.
“Let’s stop in Salt Lake City.” Rocki suggested. “Maybe we can find her a nice big park to run and play and roll around in.
“Maybe she’s just got cabin fever.”
It was a fact of life among RVers. Even the four-legged ones. Sometimes they just needed a break from the road.
Just as a sailor needs to find a bit of land to walk upon occasionally to remind him he’s not really a fish, RVers like to stay at a roadside motel occasionally and get away from the cramped confines of their land yacht.
Motels and hotels offer amenities RVs typically don’t.
Like garden tubs and workout rooms and breakfast buffets.
And sometimes dog parks or green spaces where pets can run free.
Darrell was amenable to the idea.
“Well, we do need to do laundry and go grocery shopping.”
“And I need to soak in a hot tub for several hours. I’m tired of showers every day. Women weren’t meant to settle for showers. We were meant to be pampered in luxurious tubs as big as a boat, filled with bubbles and lavender scented bath salts.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.
“And you agree with me, don’t you Penny?”
She weakly wagged her tail.
She didn’t have a clue what Rocki said. But from the tone of her voice she suspected it might be something good.
They got back on the road and continued on their course eastward, Darrell in the driver’s seat and Rocki riding shotgun.
Penny used her very prominent nose to knock over the clothes hamper and bury her face beneath the clothes.
It was her rather odd comfort space, and something she always did when she felt bad, on the road or off.
It was one of the things which earned her her nickname, “Crazy Girl.”
An hour later, on the outskirts of the sprawling Utah state capitol, Rocki pulled out her laptop and got on the internet.
Traveling the highways and byways full time as they did, the couple learned a few tricks of the trade.
They typically stopped for the night every three or four nights so they could stretch out a bit and knock the road dust off their bodies.
They’d learned long before which of the motel chains were clean and comfortable, and which ones put their guests’ comfort after their profit goals.
Which ones were pet friendly, which ones offered non-smoking rooms and which ones had free breakfast buffets.
They liked hitting the road on full stomachs with no dishes to wash.
They also always made their reservations on-line, even if they were only blocks away.
They’d found out long before that several of the more common travel sites offered cheaper rates than they’d get if they merely walked up to the reservation desk and requested a room.
They still got their frequent guest points, which entitled them to free nights every few stays. But they saved a lot of bucks by booking on line.
When they rolled into the West Salt Lake City Motorhead Inn Penny was still miserable and still hiding under the dirty laundry.
They knew they were in for a long night.
Chapter 22
Rocki ran a hot bath and Darrell took Penny to a dog park next to the motel.
She typically perked up when she met other dogs.
Especially male dogs and particularly other dachshunds.
But not on this particular evening.
A very distinguished lad in a red bandana wandered over and wanted to make friends, but she stuck her nose in the air and professed not to notice him.
“I’m sorry,” Darrell said to the dog’s owner. “Usually she’s not as stuck up as this. She’s not feeling well.”
“Oh, it’s not just her,” the owner responded. “Sully is feeling rather out of sorts the past couple of days as well. This is the first time he’s perked up since yesterday.”
After a few minutes Penny just parked herself in the grass and refused to budge.
Darrell had to carry her back to the motel room.
And Penny wasn’t light.
Oh, it was his fault. He should have put her on a diet long ago but just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Her vet told her he’d better do it soon or he’d wind up loving her to death.
For while she’d always been rather round she was now getting up in years.
And obesity in older dogs was particularly dangerous.
Rocki dressed and the pair left Penny behind to nap while they went to a steakhouse next door.
They brought back some scraps of lean meat for her to eat, but left the baked potato with butter and cheese behind.
They’d have to start being more careful about what they fed her, for while buttery potatoes and cheese were things she loved, they didn’t necessarily love her.
She was lethargic and tired.
Overly so, since she hadn’t had much of a walk.
Darrell lifted her onto the bed and placed her between them.
They both stroked her and scratched behind her ears until she fell asleep.
Darrell turned on the television just as the President of the United States came out for his weekly news conference.
Chapter 23
“Good evening, my fellow Americans,” he began. “As I’ve promised you, I’m here to keep you updated and informed on our progress in dealing with the Yellowstone Event.
“First, an update on the Yellowstone Caldera.
“Readings as of this morning show a slight decrease in ground temperature at one hundred feet.
“The temperature five miles away from the southern tip of the Caldera, and four hundred feet lower than the magma pool, has shown a slight increase.
“By slight I mean only four one hundredths of a degree Celsius.
“You’ll recall from my previous updates that our scientists consider the readings below the Caldera to be a more reliable indicator
of a pending eruption than the surface or close to surface readings, which can be skewed by above ground climate and weather conditions.
“All four of our pressure readings were roughly where they were yesterday and the day before.
“Of course you know there is a great debate regarding what all this means.
“The National Geological Survey’s official estimate has been updated.
“They’re now estimating eruption to happen somewhere between six months, seventeen days and twenty two months six days.
“For those of you who are keeping score, this represents a change from the last estimates of eight months twelve days and twenty two months thirteen days.
“I’m not a scientist and would never claim to be. Therefore I cannot answer your questions regarding how these particular estimates were derived.
“I would encourage you to visit the web sites of the Department of the Interior or the National Geological Survey, where their calculations are spelled out in layman’s terms.
“Now then… on to what we’ve been doing as your government to protect our nation and her people…
“Our congress has been working hard on this issue, and has promised to place a bill on my desk tomorrow morning, which I will then sign into law.
“The bill is called ‘The Alaskan Land Act’ and will designate over forty million acres of Alaskan wilderness land to be given to Americans who wish to locate to our forty-ninth state.
“This is land which has never been developed before, but that’s not because it is junk land or sub-prime.
“It is, in fact, very choice acreage.
“Every acre our Interior Department chose had to meet three criteria.
“It had to be fronted with a water source. Every plot is next to one of Alaska’s many lakes or is bordered by a river or a stream.
“Every plot has to have arable land. Land which is flat enough to be farmed in the warm weather months.
“And every plot has to be accessible by some type of roadway.
“Many people will want to apply for one of these two acre homesteads.
“But they will be available exclusively for those people who currently reside in the two designated evacuation zones.
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