by JJ Knight
The moment I felt the featherlight weight of her, I was filled with wonder.
I couldn’t see much of her, just her little face. She yawned sleepily, and it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. How did she know how to yawn?
Her cheeks were pinker than her forehead and her chin. She had short stubby lashes and almond-shaped eyes. I could have stared at her forever.
I looked up at Mom, to see if she felt the same awe, but she was sitting in the corner, focused on the parking lot outside the window instead.
I gazed back down. Her eyes were slate blue. I thought I could see his nose on her, but it was so small and round.
I couldn’t hold her hands or see her feet in her burrito bundle, but it was enough to look at her face. A string on her little hat had unraveled, and I smoothed it down.
Such tiny ears. Little wisps of dark hair.
“We need to take her to be assessed,” a nurse said. “Weighed and measured and a more thorough cleaning.” She held out her arms.
I didn’t want to let her go. I looked at her again. What if this was it? The only time I would see her? I desperately wished for a camera, a cell phone, anything that would capture this moment. But I had nothing, and no one in the room would do it for me. Not under these circumstances.
My throat tightened so hard that I could barely breathe. They couldn’t take her. They just couldn’t!
The woman with the folder cleared her throat. A stern-faced nurse, the one who told the doctor that this was all normal, forcibly took the baby from me. I wanted to hold on and tensed my arms, but she warned, “The baby is fragile.”
So I let go.
I let go.
They placed her in a plastic crib on a rolling cart.
“She’s losing her hat,” one said, but they wheeled her out anyway.
She was gone.
“I have all the paperwork right here,” the woman with the folder said.
“Mom?” I asked again. “Is this what you decided?”
“We can’t keep the baby,” she said. “It’s an abomination.”
Tears flowed down my face. She was not. She was perfect.
The woman held out the folder but I turned my face away.
“Just bring it here,” Mom said.
“She’s a minor,” the woman said. “Here is where your signatures go. But we still want her to sign.”
“I won’t,” I said.
A rumbling voice came from the doorway. It was my father, holding my brother Andy. “You will.”
My insides quaked. He looked large and formidable in the stark room.
My joy at seeing the baby, and my resolve to fight them, crumbled. Andy squirmed in his arms, trying to get down to me, but my father held him tight.
“I’m just here to sign those papers, and then we’ll leave,” my father said.
He passed Andy to Mom and took the pages from her. He scribbled his name and brought the paper to me.
“Sign right here, Livia,” he said.
My hands trembled on the sheets. I was coming down off the high of seeing the baby, and exhaustion was setting in. I wanted to be alone to cry.
I took the papers and found the line with “Birth mother” below it. I scrawled my name.
The woman flipped the page. “Also here and here, and initial these three places.”
I did what I was told. There was nothing I could do anyway. Where does a fifteen-year-old go with a baby if she’s kicked out of her house?
“Leave the baby’s name blank,” the woman said. “I’ll get that from the adoptive family.”
“I don’t get to name her?” I asked.
“You should detach yourself as quickly as possible,” the woman said. “It’s for the best.”
I lay back, starting to feel all the places in my body that throbbed. My boobs felt funny too, hot and tingly. If they were all going to stare at me like I was a monster, I would just as soon all of them leave.
“Are we square on the paperwork?” my dad asked.
The woman flipped through the pages again. “Yes, I already had most of it filled in.” She picked up her bag from the corner. “I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”
She whisked herself from the room.
“Come on, Dorothy,” my dad said. “We can pick her up when they discharge her.” He turned to the curly-haired aide, who had returned to quietly pick up the bedding and trays. “When will she get out?”
“Probably tomorrow,” she said. “She’s a minor. Are you sure you should leave her?”
“She’s old enough to get in this situation,” he said. “She’s old enough to get through it on her own.”
The aide bit her lip and flashed me a sympathetic glance. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”
My mom hadn’t moved from the chair, her face grave. “Ray, are you sure? She’s our daughter, alone in a hospital.”
“You will obey me,” my father said. “Not a lick of you in this family knows how to handle themselves.”
“A social worker will be coming,” the aide said. “Standard procedure when a girl this young has a child.”
My father turned to her. “I do NOT consent to anyone talking to her. Do you hear me? Nobody.”
The aide bit her lip again, but didn’t say a word.
“Come on, Dorothy,” Dad said. He took Andy from her. “It’s late and we need to get our son to bed.”
Mom picked up her sweater and purse. “Your overnight bag is here,” she said, patting the red duffel. “I’ll call later and see how you are.”
Dad grunted at that, striding for the door without a backward glance. Mom gave me a quick hug and followed him out.
When they were gone, the aide turned to me and helped me change into a new gown. “The social worker is required by law to come. If you’ve been abused or harmed, that would be the time to speak up.”
When I was dressed again, I sank down in the bed. They were worried the baby was my father’s, I guessed. I would assure them that wasn’t true, and that everything that happened was my own decision.
But I would never ever tell them the truth. That part of the secret was something I agreed with my dad about. No one needed to know about Denham.
Chapter 20
Blitz and I wake up Tuesday morning with groans and whimpers.
“I can’t move my arms,” Blitz says with a laugh. “Jenica killed me.”
“My butt will never be the same,” I tell him. “We did too many arabesques for a week, much less a day.”
Blitz turns to me and rolls me onto my belly. “Well, rubbing your butt with my sore hands should help both of us, right?”
I laugh. “Maybe. Wait. Oww!” The pressure is like a bruise being punched. I reach and grab his upper arm and squeeze. “How is that?”
“Hurts so good,” he says, collapsing back down on the bed. “We need a hot tub in our room.”
I lean up on one elbow. Even that sends a howl through my midsection. “Why don’t we have a hot tub in our room? Did you get cheap on me?”
His chest rumbles with a throaty chuckle. “I think there are jets in the bathtub, actually.”
I drop back on the pillow. “Then call somebody to come fill it,” I say.
Blitz drops a kiss on my forehead. “Being spoiled agrees with you,” he says. “How about I go get a steaming, jet-powered bath going for us?”
I drag myself to sitting. “I’ll help,” I say, grimacing at all the places that hurt. “Are we really going back to Jenica’s today?”
“It was fun,” Blitz says. “But it didn’t feel quite right. Did it for you?”
I want to collapse with relief. “No. I missed Betsy something awful.”
“They were killing each other for the sake of doing it,” Blitz says. “I’ve had trainers like that. They think it’s noble to sacrifice your body.” He stretches his arms and winces. “I’m the first to want a hard, solid workout, but being unable to function the next day is no good in my business.”
> “Or getting injured,” I say. “That would be the worst.”
“Yeah, we were pushing it,” Blitz says. “So, okay, we’ll figure something else out.”
“Even if that means you never get to see your super fan Weeza again?” I tease.
“I’ll have to live with that.” He drops another kiss on my hair.
“To the bath?” I say.
Blitz nuzzles my neck. “Definitely.”
After an hour’s soak, among other things, we start to feel human again. Blitz calls up a simple breakfast with healthy pressed juice and carbs, and we prepare to head to Dreamcatcher for the wheelchair ballerina class.
“You think BD will be there today?” Blitz asks. “Or did he get enough charge out of his outburst on Friday?”
I slide my Crocs on over my tights. “I honestly don’t know. Danika should have security there by now. And presumably she has a restraining order in place.”
“He still hasn’t seen our gray car,” Blitz says. “I could put a mustache on you.”
I hold up my hands. “No need. I’ll just wear sunglasses.”
“So not fun,” he teases. He calls down to the concierge to have the car brought around.
I shove my dance shoes in my bag. I don’t really know what I will do if Denham is there again. He shouldn’t be, if the order is in place.
“All set,” Blitz says. “Let’s go dance with your daughter!”
The idea of Gabriella being there makes me anxious. Denham has seen the pictures of me as a young girl. They were hanging in the halls. But that was a long time ago. Surely he won’t remember them well enough to recognize Gabriella in them.
Although it’s possible he could recognize something about himself. She has his eyes. Seeing him again confirmed it for me.
We head downstairs, where the gray Mazda waits. Blitz pulls a ball cap low on his face. With his sunglasses, he isn’t recognizable. I wrap my head in a floral scarf and put on my own pair. Now I see why celebrities look like they do.
We drive in silence the short distance to the academy. Blitz approaches it slowly, watching for the green truck.
It doesn’t take long to see it.
“Shit, he’s right there,” Blitz says. He makes an abrupt right on a side street to avoid driving past him.
“You think he saw us?” I ask.
“No,” Blitz says. “He was fiddling with something on the sidewalk.”
“He was out of his truck?”
“Yeah, kneeling on the ground.”
We circle the block and approach Dreamcatcher from the other direction. The green truck is on the opposite side now. Denham is still sitting down low.
“What is he holding?” I ask.
“It’s one of those construction-sized measuring tapes on a reel,” Blitz says. “He’s measuring something.”
We turn into the drive, but I keep my face angled away. “Did he see us?” I ask.
“He glanced up, but he didn’t recognize us in this car,” Blitz says. “He looked right back down again.”
“Did you figure out what he’s doing?”
“The end of his measuring tape was the corner of the parking lot,” Blitz says. He drives around to the back of the building and parks. “I’m guessing he’s making sure he’s outside the zone of the protective order.”
“Is it that small?”
“I talked to Jeff about it when I was in LA. He didn’t think we had enough evidence of a threat to get one, but that was before baby daddy decided to go nuts at a place with children. In Texas, it’s typically two hundred yards.”
“So a couple football fields,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“How could they have served him?” I ask. “He doesn’t have an address.”
“Jeff said he’s on probation,” Blitz says. “Most likely a stipulation of his probation is to maintain contact with an officer. They could serve it.”
“Would getting one violate his probation?” I ask.
“I could call Jeff and ask,” Blitz says.
“That’s okay,” I say. “Danika might know.”
“I doubt we’ll be able to get in the back door today without calling her,” Blitz says.
“Looks like she has somebody back there.” I point to the backstage exit.
Sure enough, a familiar tall man is there. Ted!
We walk up to him. “Fancy seeing you again,” Blitz says. “I was just too good-looking to pass up.”
Ted snorts. “They called and asked for me, since I already knew the place. I rotate with another guy, front entrance and back.”
“Is this door locked?” Blitz asks. “Because lover boy is out front measuring how close he can get.”
“We’re aware,” Ted says. “The funny thing is, we don’t even have an order yet. They’re still working on proving the threat. He’s just being careful.”
“Really?” I say. “Even after he went crazy last week?”
“Yeah, the owner wasn’t able to convince them,” Ted says. “I think they are getting some big-gun lawyer to file it now. Some dude named Claremont.”
“Bennett,” I say, and Blitz nods. Bennett built Dreamcatcher Academy for Danika. He has lawyers on top of lawyers.
Ted turns to unlock the backstage door. “Buzz me if anything happens in there.”
“Will do,” Blitz says with a mock salute.
We hurry to Studio 3, where Janel is already working with Daisy and Marissa.
“Good morning,” Janel says as we come in. “Small group so far this morning. Everybody’s late or skipping.”
I set down my bag. “Did anyone call to say why?”
“No,” Janel says, adjusting Daisy’s arms. “I didn’t hear anything.”
By the time we’ve changed into dance shoes, two more girls have arrived. But no Gabriella.
Halfway through class, Blitz comes up and says, “Did anything seem off with her on Thursday?”
I shake my head no.
“Why don’t you go ask Danika about her?”
I nod. The girls are busily working on how to hold formation during a turn, so I head out into the hall and walk toward the front foyer.
Another security guard stands between the two entrances, looking out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that make up the front of the academy. I realize how vulnerable we are, so open and easy to see in.
“Everything okay?” I ask him. “I’m Livia, the girl he’s stalking.”
The man nods in acknowledgment. “He just got served the order,” he says. “The officer is still there, making sure he complies.”
I glance out. I can’t see Denham’s truck, as it’s too far down the street, but Denham himself is picking up his measuring tape. A squad car is parked directly in front of the academy.
I back away before he can look this direction. It’s a good distance across the parking lot, and he shouldn’t be able to see me clearly, but I don’t want to take that chance.
Suze is at the front desk, and I wave as I pass. Then I stop and turn back to her. “Did Gwen call about Gabriella?” I ask. “She’s not in class.”
Suze sifts through her notes. “I didn’t talk to her, but she left a message for Danika to call her. Maybe she’s sick.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Is Danika back there?”
“I think so,” Suze says.
I push through the doors to the recital hall. Danika’s office is just inside. She sits at her desk, tapping on her keyboard.
I poke my head in. “Hey,” I say.
“Hello, Livia,” she says. “I take it you came in the back way? Your friend is out front.”
“Yeah.” I sit on the chair opposite her. “I hear you got the protective order.”
“Finally. The officer who came didn’t write up enough to get it through. We had to push it with Bennett’s lawyer. But they got it done.”
“Did he have a probation officer to notify him?”
“Yes, but we didn’t want to wait on that. He was standing right
out there. We got it rush-served. Anything for a price,” she says.
“How far away does he have to stay?”
“We got three hundred yards, which is the maximum. But that’s just for our property. He can still follow you.”
“I know,” I say. “Blitz doesn’t want an order in the public record with my name on it.”
“That makes sense. You practically have to give up your firstborn child to get one done.”
I freeze, my breath catching.
Danika quickly says, “I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “It’s just an expression.”
She reaches across the desk to grasp my hands. “I think of you as a daughter, Livia. Please know that if you need anything, you can talk to me.”
I’m not sure I can think of Danika as a mother, but I nod. “I came to ask about Gabriella,” then quickly I add, “and Valerie. They aren’t in class today.”
“I’m not sure about Valerie,” she says. “But Gwen heard about the altercation Friday and has put a hold on Gabriella’s enrollment until it blows over.”
“What?” My heart accelerates. “He didn’t even come here on her day!”
“Gwen has some concerns,” Danika says. “She isn’t the only parent who has pulled her child out over that incident. I’ve lost about ten students.”
I can’t believe it. Just like that, Gabriella is out of my life.
Because of Denham!
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have come back here once he found me.”
“I’m really not sure it would have helped. He comes here whether it’s your day or not. He sat out there yesterday while we tried to get the order done.”
“You think Gabriella won’t even do the private lessons?” I ask.
Danika lets go of me and sits back in her chair. “It’s interesting, Livia, that you and Blitz have taken such an interest in her. What motivated you to do that?”
My face flushes hot. I fumble with my answer. “Blitz saw a lot of potential in her when they did the video. She’s really expressive.”
Danika nods. “Well, that is true.” She slides a few of her papers around. “I’ll let you know if she decides to come back. I would assume her private lessons are also canceled for now. But I can check if you would like.”