Nobody's Baby

by Jane Toombs

  Which it might have been if Danny had lain there quietly instead of squirming all over the table so that he had to be pinned firmly with one hand to keep him in place while, with the other hand, the outer pants had to be tugged off before the wet diaper could be unfastened and dropped into a nearby pail. Then came the tricky part. How the hell was anyone expected to get a clean diaper on a wriggling eel whose aim was plain—to see how quickly he could manage to fall off the table?

  Zed sighed in relief when he managed to get the diaper fastened, no matter that it looked a tad crooked. Since the outer pants, miniature jeans, seemed damp, he picked Danny up while he looked for a clean pair.

  “You know,” he confided, “there’s a lot to be said for running around naked. Wouldn’t work too good inside, not till you’re housebroken, but outside it’d be a breeze.”

  At that point he recalled his afternoon appointment with the P.I., and flipped Danny up onto his shoulder while he called Joe Santoro’s office. Danny slid down, trying his best to punch the phone buttons right along with him, but Zed got the call through without too much trouble.

  He explained that he was baby-sitting. “I could bring the boy with me,” he said, “but I think he takes a nap about that time.”

  “I know where Karen lives,” Joe said. “How about if I come out after lunch? I got another call to make in La Mesa, anyway.”

  That seemed the best arrangement to Zed. Joe’s mention of lunch reminded him that the coffee and doughnut he’d had for breakfast was long gone, so, even though it was only eleven, he opted to eat. Karen had said there was leftover pizza in the refrigerator that he could heat in the microwave, which sounded good to him. The poor kid was probably getting hungry, too, since he seemed kind of restless.

  Luckily he’d had recent experience with the baby food jars in Nevada and had watched Karen feed the boy. He figured it’d be a cinch to combine feeding Danny with eating his own lunch. That was mistake number one. He didn’t realize how messy the process could be, nor did he recall how the kid had kept trying to grab the spoon. Handing Danny a spoon of his own to hold didn’t improve matters, because he was determined to stick the spoon into the pizza slices Zed was trying to eat. Too late he recalled Karen telling him the high chair was stored in the pantry.

  Still, they finished their lunches without a real disaster. That came later. Either Karen hadn’t had time to mention that certain bodily processes were activated in Danny after eating or else he hadn’t listened closely. Mistake number two turned out to be leaving the diaper cockeyed rather than making sure it was on correctly. Combined with not getting around to putting outer pants over the askew diaper, this led to some mighty odoriferous leakage. On him, the kitchen chair, the floor and all over Danny.

  He stripped Danny and, seeing nothing else available in sight, grabbed paper towels and more or less mummified him. He wiped the worst of the stuff off his pants so he wouldn’t drip on his way and made tracks for the bath-room. Confronted by a too-small sink and a shower within a tub, he groaned. After deciding against the tub—it would take too long to fill—he stripped himself, turned on the shower, making sure it wasn’t too hot, and stepped under it with Danny in his arms, hoping the kid wouldn’t set up a howl.

  The paper towels grew sodden and peeled off under the water’s onslaught, stopping up the drain so that Zed had to keep pushing disintegrating paper aside with his foot while he kept a grip on the slippery boy and tried to wash him clean at the same time. Because he’d forgotten to close the shower’s sliding doors, the entire bathroom was awash by the time he finished. The only redeeming factor besides cleanliness was that he hadn’t scared Danny.

  Once he’d gotten them dry, he retrieved a new diaper, shirt and outer pants and dressed the kid. He then hauled the high chair into the hall and put the boy in it with one of his cookies, leaving the bathroom door open so he could keep an eye on Danny. Examining his clothes, Zed saw his jeans and boxers would have to be soaked in lieu of washing. His T-shirt, while not smelly, was dotted with various colors of baby food. Everything he’d worn needed a wash.

  After laying towels on the floor to sop up the water and picking soggy paper towels out of the drain, Zed ran water into the tub, added some dish detergent from the kitchen and dropped his clothes in to soak. After a moment’s thought, he added Danny’s soiled shirt and socks. Not knowing what to do with the dirty diaper, he tied it into a plastic bag.

  “I have clean clothes in the car,” he told Danny, giving a rueful glance at his nakedness. “You got any idea how I’m going to get out there to collect them without shocking the neighbors?”

  Danny had no suggestions to offer. The only possibility, Zed decided, was to tie a towel around his waist. This being Southern California, maybe no one would raise an eyebrow. Before he ventured out, he brought Danny, high chair and all, into the kitchen and cleaned up the mess there. Then he discovered that the only remaining towel large enough to cover him decently was bright pink with purple flowers. By now he really didn’t care. Afraid to leave Danny alone while he went out to the car, he hoisted him from the high chair and carried him along.

  He reached his car, unfortunately parked on the street rather than within the apartment complex, grabbed jeans and a shirt and was closing the door when a nondescript black car pulled up behind it. A stocky man got out and stared at him.

  “You must be Adams,” he said.

  “What makes you think so?” Zed asked gruffly.

  “I recognize the kid.” He smiled at Danny, who turned his face into Zed’s shoulder. “I’m Joe Santoro. Looks like you got your hands full—we can shake hands later.”

  Joe followed him back to Karen’s apartment. Zed left him in the living room while he retreated to the bedroom with Danny, remembering to pick up the blue horse on the way. He deposited boy and horse in the crib, pulling a blanket up around them both. “I’ll stay in here with you while I get dressed, Tiger,” he said, “but after that you and Old Blue are on your own. Enough is enough.”

  Danny, the horse’s ear in his mouth, watched him drowsily. To Zed’s relief the boy’s eyes drooped shut and didn’t pop open when he eased out the door.

  “Planning to take up baby-sitting as a sideline?” Joe asked when he reached the living room.

  “Comedy must be your sideline,” Zed muttered.

  “Let’s see if I got this right,” Joe said. “I pegged you for the kid’s father, but you’ve convinced Karen you can prove you’re not.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Okay, let’s say you’re not Danny’s father. I got to tell you that, in my eyes, you’re acting a hell of a lot like you are.

  Zed tamped down his irritation. No point in antagonizing Joe. On the other hand he refused to be defensive about sitting with Danny. “I came to San Diego to find the man you mistook me for,” he said. “What I’d like from you is a rundown of your investigation for Karen, so that I don’t duplicate your efforts.”

  “She signed a release, so here goes.” Joe launched into a detailed report of what Karen had already told Zed in capsule form.

  “The woman who identified me from the photo,” Zed said when Joe had finished. “Why was she so sure the man was me?”

  “Apparently you took her and a couple of her girl-friends out for a sail maybe two or three years ago. I guess you impressed her, ‘cause she sure as hell remembered every detail, including your name and the fact you lived in Nevada. Plus your buns.”

  Zed didn’t have the slightest recollection of the incident, but he often invited new acquaintances sailing, people he might never see again.

  “How about the redhead—Erin?” Zed asked. “Did this woman know her?”

  Joe shook his head. “Never set eyes on her. Claimed she never saw you with the redhead, either.”

  About to ask the woman’s name and where he could contact her, Zed hesitated. What was the point? If she believed the man in the photo was him, she’d be of no help whatsoever. “Thanks, Joe,” he sa
id. “I appreciate you coming out here.”

  “Better a bawling kid at home than in my office.”

  “Tiger’s a good kid. He doesn’t fuss without reason,” Zed said before he thought.

  Joe rolled his eyes. “Sure you ain’t his father? Believe me, you sound like it.”

  Goaded, Zed spoke between his teeth. “I never met Erin Henderson. Or donated sperm. I’m no one’s father.”

  “If you say so, man. Me, I’m just a bystander. Karen’s a nice lady, though.” He eyed Zed. “Too nice to get hurt.”

  Fighting not to let his anger loose—what did Joe think he was, some sleazy son of a bitch who went around impregnating women and then deserting them?—Zed said tautly, “Goodbye and thanks again, Joe.”

  Zed had originally thought he might mention the possibility his father had sired another son before marrying Ellen Adams, but he’d decided not to. The P.I.’s investigation had labeled him as the father, and Joe’s mind-set remained fixed on that. Even if he had brought up the possibility, Joe most likely would have pointed out the futility of trying to find a half brother who might not exist when he didn’t even know his father’s name.

  After the P.I. had gone, Zed put some finishing touches on the kitchen. In the bathroom he rinsed the clothes in the bathtub, wrung them out and dropped Danny’s into the hamper. His he stuffed into a plastic bag. After wiping up a few stray damp spots, he deposited the wet towels in the hamper, too, stood back and gazed with satisfaction at his cleanup job. He’d successfully remedied his mistakes. Unless some nosy neighbor had spotted him outside clad in the floral towel, Karen would never suspect anything had gone amiss.

  The doorbell rang. Zed hurried to answer it, not wanting Danny to rouse. He peered through the spy-eye before opening the door and blinked at the sight of a uniformed cop on the other side. What was this?

  Even though she chaired it, the afternoon meeting passed in a blur for Karen. The kids had been dismissed shortly after noon because of the meeting, so actually she’d be leaving earlier than usual but, for the moment, she was stuck here.

  All she could think about was getting away and hurrying home to see if Danny was all right. When she’d called before the meeting began, Zed hadn’t answered even after ten rings. Where had he been? He and Danny, that is, because surely he wouldn’t leave a baby alone. She hadn’t had a chance to get to the phone again and the suspense was taking its toll.

  She trusted Zed, she told herself over and over. He was perfectly capable of taking care of a seven-month-old boy. Many fathers did as well or better at child care than the mothers. But Zed wasn’t Danny’s father, or at least most of the time she believed he wasn’t, and he hadn’t had any experience taking care of babies.

  She’d learned, she reminded herself, and Danny was a newborn then. He was seven months older now, and Zed was an intelligent man. If there’d been an emergency, he would have called. If he’d decided to go for a drive, he had the car seat for Danny.

  Finally she was able to bring the meeting to a close. She flew to her car and broke a few speed limits on the way to her apartment. She sighed with relief when she spotted Zed’s rental car parked in the same place. He hadn’t gone anywhere—she’d find him and Danny where she’d left them. Everything was fine and dandy.

  Then, pulling in to her assigned slot in the complex, she noticed a patrol car in the guest parking area and her heart began to pound. Imagining all sorts of calamities, she leapt out of her car and raced to her apartment. She burst inside and stopped short.

  Zed sat in the kitchen with Danny in his lap. The boy had a cookie in his left hand and his blue horse clutched in his right.

  In the chair opposite Zed a young and pretty uniformed policewoman was just setting down her cup of coffee, her gaze on Karen. She rose and said, “You must be Ms. Henderson. I’m Officer Kelly, La Mesa Police Department. I’ve been waiting for you to get here.”

  Her wits still scattered, Karen mumbled a greeting and crossed to Zed, reaching for Danny.

  He smiled at her but resisted when she tried to pick him up, hanging on to Zed. “Da!” he said. “Da!”

  “As I explained to Mr. Adams,” the officer said, “I’m sorry to have bothered you but we received a complaint from a resident of this complex telling us she’d noticed a naked man outside with your baby, and this man had let another man into your apartment. Since she’d never seen either of the men before, she was afraid they were up to no good—especially the naked one.”

  Was Officer Kelly suppressing a smile? It looked very much like it to Karen. She could understand that the police had to respond to a call, but why did this one, whose uniform accentuated her blond attractiveness, have to hang around and drink coffee with Zed? And what was this about nakedness?

  “When she rang the doorbell it woke up Tiger,” Zed interjected, “and he began to howl. We had a few interesting minutes before I managed to convince Lucy I was a perfectly innocent baby-sitter.”

  Lucy? How long had the officer been here?

  “Yes, you’re very convincing,” Karen snapped before she could stop herself. Recovering, she managed to say, “There really is nothing’to worry about, Officer.”

  Officer Kelly nodded. “Since there’s no problem here, I’ll be leaving. You two have a good day.” She waved at Danny. Or was it Zed? “Bye-bye, cutie.”

  Danny offered her a tentative smile, then—belatedly—held out his arms to Karen. She plucked him off Zed’s lap, cuddling him next to her.

  “Goodbye, Lucy,” Zed said. “May all your calls be as harmless as this one.”

  The officer gave Zed a big smile, nodded to Karen and let herself out.

  Karen stood with her back against the refrigerator, frowning at Zed. “What was that all about?” she demanded.

  “You have at least one nosy neighbor with a vivid imagination. A man wearing a towel wrapped around his significant parts is definitely not naked.”

  For the first time Karen noticed that he wore a red T-shirt, and she was certain he’d had on a white one when he’d arrived, a shirt with a casino logo—a rose in the barrel of a gun, as she recalled. And these were faded jeans, not the darker ones he’d worn earlier.

  Avoiding Danny’s persistent attempts to feed her his cookie, she shook her head. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.”

  “The other man was Joe Santoro,” he said. “He came by instead of me going to his office. Tiger was never in the slightest danger.”

  “I can understand Joe coming here,” she said, “but what were you doing outside wearing nothing but a towel and, apparently, carrying Danny?”

  “I couldn’t leave him alone in the apartment, so I had no choice. Look, why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll explain what happened.”

  Discovering that he’d dropped his blue horse onto the floor when Karen picked him up, Danny twisted in her arms, trying to get free and reach for his favorite toy. Zed retrieved the horse and Danny lunged toward him. Sighing, Karen handed him back to Zed. Kicking off her shoes, she collected a soft drink from the refrigerator and dropped into a chair.

  “Okay,” she said, “I’m as comfortable as I’m able to be until I hear a blow-by-blow account of your day with Danny.”

  Tense and inclined to be annoyed at first, Karen felt her sense of humor rapidly take hold as what Zed called his mistakes piled one onto the other. By the time he got to the paper towels clogging up the drain, she was chuckling. When he told her about the pink towel with purple flowers, she laughed until tears came to her eyes.

  “Mrs. Hammond,” Karen said when she could speak. “She watches us all, so she had to be the one who called the cops. But who can blame her? What a sight you must have been. How I wish I could have seen Joe confronting you down in the street. God only knows what he thought.”

  “He wanted to know if I intended to make a career out of baby-sitting,” Zed told her. “Some comedian. Tiger never batted an eye through it all, though. Not even in the shower.”

&nb
sp; “His first, incidentally.”

  “So what are we going to do for dinner? If you don’t have any other plans, we could eat on the Painted Lady. How does that strike you?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I think you’ve left something out, because I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? My new address is a sailboat moored in the marina. A Texas gentleman lent it to me.”

  “Great! But maybe not tonight, okay? If Danny’s nap was interrupted he’s going to zonk out early.” Zed looked so disappointed that she added, “Why don’t we plan to picnic on the boat tomorrow instead?”

  “Good enough. I’ll go out and bring something back for dinner.”

  She ought to discourage him; he was on the way to becoming a fixture in her life, and that would never do. “You needn’t bother,” she began, trying to find a tactful way to put it, which was doubly difficult because she really didn’t want him to go.

  “You mean you’d rather have homemade?” he asked before she found the right words to suggest he leave. “I noticed some spaghetti in the cupboard when I took out the baby food. My one and only cooking talent besides French toast is spaghetti sauce. If you’ve got the makings for it, go put your feet up and I’ll make dinner.”

  Karen gave in. Leaving him pulling out pans in the kitchen, she carried Danny with her into the bedroom to change into more casual clothes. Somehow the old jeans and white T-shirt she’d meant to wear turned into rust-colored knit pants with a long overshirt of the same color, an outfit she knew flattered her coloring. She took extra pains with her hair.

  Danny, watching her from his crib, began to babble. “Ma!” he said, among other syllables. “Ma, ma.”

  “It’s about time you got around to that,” she told him as she lifted him up. “I’m getting tired of this ‘Da’ business.”