Baby Love Lite

by ANDREA SMITH

  The bar started filling up so we didn’t get the opportunity to discuss Tristan any further.

  I was making a couple of skinny martinis for a table of young women clearly having happy hour after work. I was reaching for the shaker when I heard Gina.

  “Holy shit. This can’t be good.”

  I followed her gaze and saw a very pissed-off Libby approaching the bar. We didn’t have bouncers at the club this early as it was just a little after 6:00 p.m. Libby was dressed in dark purple leather. Leather pants, a leather jacket, and leather boots covered her tall, thin body. She was making fast, angry strides to where Gina was standing at the bar. I moved closer to Gina to let her know I had her back.

  “You bitch!” Libby shouted at Gina, causing the patrons at the bar to look over quickly. “I know you video recorded our conversation the other day and gave it to Tristan. What the hell were you hoping to accomplish?”

  I stepped up to the bar before Gina had a chance to respond.

  “Hey, it was me, Libby. I’m the one that told Gina to send the video to my cell phone so that I could show it to Trey. It was Trey’s decision to share it with Tristan. They're brothers you know?”

  “Oh, like you give a shit about Tristan’s feelings.”

  I wanted to slap her right then and there because Tristan was my brother-in-law and a very sweet one at that.

  “You were just pissed, Tylar. You wanted revenge because you were afraid that I'd fuck your husband better than you ever could!”

  Oh hell no; the bitch didn’t just say that!

  “Hardly,” I responded calmly to Libby. “The truth is Trey and I were privy to your nasty goings on in the bedroom next to ours in Bristol. I believe Trey’s exact words were that you're a freak he wouldn’t take home to his own mama!”

  “Hah! I doubt that very much! It seems that maybe ‘Ken's' getting just a little bored with his ‘Housewife Barbie’ these days. Maybe all he really needs and wanted was to take a dive under my fig leaves at Tristan’s birthday party last month.”

  I could hear Gina cuss under her breath, instructing me to bitch slap her. That wasn't my style.

  “Sweetie,” I said, leaning over the bar and smiling at her. “I can guarantee you that what you had under those fig leaves held no interest for my man. You see, he actually prefers ‘Housewife Barbie’ to ‘GI Jane’ any day of the week. My only concern's that Tristan had the foresight to properly armor his manhood while he was in the clutches of a whore like you. I’d hate for my best friend, Gina to catch any of your crotch rot!”

  “Why, you uppity little bitch!” she snarled. “Someone needs to put you in your place and maybe I’m just the person to do it!”

  Libby drew her arm back to swing full force into me just as Gina pushed her way in front of me. Libby’s hand never found its mark because at that point, Trey had come up right behind her. He grabbed her arm on the upswing, staying it motionless to reach its target.

  She turned immediately to see who had stayed her hand.

  “Libby,” Trey said, “I think it’s time you left and found someone else to torture.”

  She squirmed out of his grip; her face was red with humiliation and anger. Some of the patrons at the bar were looking over at her and snickering. She looked pathetic. She turned on her heel and stomped out, mumbling about how much better she could do than Tristan and she hadn’t wanted to keep his goddamn ring anyway.

  I looked over at Trey and saw a trace of amusement in his eyes.

  “What did she mean about all that with the ring?”

  Trey smiled. “I guess Tristan had the foresight to get the ring from her bedside table where she'd left it before she went to shower that evening. He packed it, along with the rest of his stuff and left her a note. He signed it ‘Lucky Seven.’ He wasn’t about to let her add his ring to her collection.”

  Things calmed down once Libby had left. I wasn’t sure that we'd seen the end of her; she still harbored a lot of anger and ill will towards Gina and me in particular. I didn’t quite get it. It wasn’t like she'd been with Tristan all that long.

  Trey was seated watching me.

  “Yes sir, what can I get you?”

  “Hmm, let’s see; how about a Kiss on the Lips?”

  “Sure thing,” I replied leaning in and kissing him.

  “Uh, Tylar, I kind of meant that I'd really like to try the drink?”

  “Oh, okay,” I laughed. I fixed Trey his drink and then waited on a couple of other patrons before returning to him. He had a serious look on his face and I knew that there was something he wanted to share with me.

  “Tylar, I had a call today from Judge Tylar.”

  I immediately stopped wiping the counter of the bar to look at him.

  “Judge Tylar? Why was he calling you?”

  “He had my contact information from the case file. He wanted some information on you, since he saw we were together.”

  ‘Trey,” I breathed, my heart racing, “Does he think he’s related to me?”

  “Well, honey, it’s complicated. He saw the extreme resemblance that you apparently have with your mother. He noticed the antique pearl drop earrings and teardrop necklace that he'd given to a girl named Marley that he'd known briefly years ago. He was wondering if your maiden name was Renaud. Though he hasn’t quite drawn a direct connection, if I had to guess, I'd say that if he's your father, he'd no idea that you even existed.”

  “What'd you tell him?”

  “I told him your maiden name was ‘Preston,’ and that your heritage was sketchy at best.”

  “It’s time you took me to see Maggie. I'll know the truth, even if I have to beat it out of her.”

  He smiled and put his arm around me. “I’ll make some calls in the morning.”

  CHAPTER 30

  I'd just gotten home from spending the morning at the salon getting trimmed, highlighted, waxed, and manicured, when Trey phoned from his office. Jean had watched Preston and managed to clean the apartment while she was there.

  “Hi, sweetie,” I said when I answered the phone. “You won’t recognize your wife when you get home. I spent the morning getting a major overhaul.”

  “Tylar, I've some news for you. I’m not sure if you'll consider this bad news or not.”

  Immediately my heart dropped to my stomach.

  “I talked to the Deputy D.A.’s office this morning to see what the status was on Maggie’s arraignment. It's been postponed twice and I now know the reason.”

  “What is it, Trey?”

  "Maggie's been in the jail’s infirmary. They moved her this morning to St. Matthew’s. She's in the intensive care unit of the hospital; extremely ill and it is life threatening."

  I didn’t know how I felt about what he'd just shared with me. Part of me wanted to feel happy; to hope that any threat she posed to me or my family was on the verge of being snuffed out like a candle that's burned too long. The other part of me wanted her to linger long enough for me to interrogate her and gain the information she owed me after the years of lying and deceit.

  “Did you hear me, Tylar?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I was kind of lost in thought there for the moment. Do you know the particulars of her illness?”

  “She had an extremely high fever when she got here from West Virginia. No one's sure how long she'd been ill, but my guess is that since extradition was imminent, the authorities there didn’t seek the necessary medical assistance for her. They probably preferred having it picked up on Georgia’s tab being she was ultimately coming back here. The information I was given was it likely started out being a low grade viral or bacterial infection that affected her internally. They suspect she's been bleeding internally for a while. It's now manifested itself into a major bacterial infection that's gotten into her blood stream. It could be fatal if she goes septic.”

  It sounded to me as if Maggie was on borrowed time. I needed some of that time. I was determined to have it.

  “Is she coherent, Trey?”


  “I'm not sure. They started her on intravenous antibiotics at the infirmary. The jail chaplain went with her to the hospital and she's to contact me as soon as Maggie's stabilized. She understands you're a relative, so it's possible you'll be permitted in the ICU.”

  “Trey, please do your best. I need to talk to Maggie and this may be my last opportunity.”

  “I understand, baby. I'll call you just as soon as I hear from the chaplain. I’m not letting you go up there by yourself, though. Do you have someone to watch Preston?”

  “Jean’s just finishing up here. I’ll see if she can stay over.”

  “Okay sweetie; make those arrangements and wait to hear back from me."

  I busied myself with getting dinner prepared. Jean had finished the cleaning just as Preston awoke from her nap. She went ahead and changed her while I showered and dressed. Preston was in her playpen playing when I emerged. She scrambled to her legs holding onto the netting of the playpen as she pulled herself up. She was smiling and gibbering at me.

  “Hi sweetheart,” I gushed at her going over to where she was. “Did Mommy’s baby have a nice nap?”

  “Da da da da.”

  I looked at her and she was holding her arms up. I scooped her up, nuzzling my face against her soft cheeks, chanting 'ma-ma' over and over again to her. Jean came into the room while I was nursing asking if I wanted her to puree some of the boiled turkey and sweet potatoes I'd cooked.

  “Thanks Jean, I'd appreciate that. I also want to thank you for all of your help these past few weeks.”

  “I love caring for Preston and for you and Trey too, for that matter,” she said with a smile. “I was telling my daughter Cathy just last week how much I was going to hate it when you moved out to the county in a few weeks.”

  “Jean - Trey and I've been meaning to discuss that with you. I apologize that we haven’t done it sooner. Would you consider moving out there with us? The house is plenty big and you would draw a full-time salary.”

  “Why, Tylar, I don’t know what to say,” she said, starting to get a bit choked up. “I’m so honored that you would ask me. Of course, I'd love that. I love my daughter Cathy - don’t get me wrong, but sharing an apartment with her and her husband Hank these past few weeks hasn’t been the ideal situation.”

  “Fantastic,” I said. “Then its official, and I for one couldn’t be happier, Jean.”

  Just then Trey called on the landline. “I’ve been trying to call your cell,” he said.

  “Sorry, Trey, I must’ve have left in the bedroom after my shower.”

  “Good, I’m on my way to the apartment and should be there in five minutes. I'll pick you up front. Maggie's lucid; this might be the best opportunity you'll have to talk to her.”

  I made haste to let Jean know I was leaving. I grabbed my jacket and gave Preston a kiss and was out the door. Once on the elevator, I had a few moments to reflect on all that was happening. I realized that I'd no clue how I'd react when I saw Maggie again after all of this time. I'd no idea what emotions would rise to the surface.

  Trey had just pulled up to the curb when the doorman opened the door for me and I stepped out onto the sidewalk

  “Hi, baby,” he said as I got in and fastened my seat belt. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I’ve been ready for this for a long time. I’m scared and anxious. I’m not sure what to expect.”

  “That’s natural, sweetie,” he said. “Let me fill you in, as far as what I know. The chaplain said that Maggie is resting comfortably. She's still on IV antibiotics and some pain meds as well. If they can eradicate the infection from her blood before it kills off her organs, she'll survive.”

  “What are the odds of that, Trey?” It was a question that had to be asked.

  “Not in her favor from what the doctor conveyed to Sandy Meyers, the chaplain.”

  I looked over at my husband knowing that he was waiting for me to say something.

  “I don’t feel anything at all. I mean, I don’t hate her as a person. I hate the things that she's done, but I don’t harbor any hate for her as a human being. I think I pity her and the wasted life that she’s led.”

  “I suppose, under the circumstances you're more compassionate than I'd be,” he replied, taking my hand into his and squeezing it gently.

  “I’m glad that you'll be there with me, Trey.”

  CHAPTER 31

  The ICU at St. Matthews allowed for each patient to have a private glass-walled room. There was a large triage in the center where nurses constantly monitored the screens overhead for the various patients’ vital signs. Sandy Meyers, the jail chaplain that had accompanied Maggie to the hospital met us in the waiting area just outside of the ICU. She introduced herself to me, still referring to Maggie as my mother. I decided not to press the truth at the moment because I needed my ticket inside. Sandy told us which room she was in and said that my mother was anxious to see me.

  Trey held my hand as we went to Maggie’s room. I went into the room first. Seeing her lying in the hospital bed looking frail and small, hooked up to IVs and monitors was surreal for me. She looked over as Trey and I got closer to her bed.

  “Well, now look at you, Tylar, all grown-up and married to such a fine looking man.”

  Maggie looked as if she'd aged ten years since I'd last seen her. I tried to fake a smile, but it wasn’t coming off very well.

  “Hello, Mom,” I said.

  “Oh, I expect you know by this time, that I'm not your mother,” she said with a slight twinge of a smile on her dry, cracked lips. “Why don’t you just call me Maggie? Where’s your manners, girl? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your rich hubby?”

  “Maggie, this is Trey Sinclair, my husband and the father of my baby girl, Preston.” Trey nodded his head at her. He didn’t want to touch her and neither did I.

  “What a handsome man you’ve snagged, baby girl. Come to think of it, he looks much better than Daniel even. Oh, I could have had such fun with you, Trey,” she giggled. Her giggle was followed by a fit of coughing. She reached for her cup of water taking a long sip to quiet her hacking.

  “How's Layla?” she asked.

  Trey and I exchanged confused glances.

  “I named the baby Layla once I got a hold of her. I can’t believe you would name a baby girl your last name. You’re so much like your mama.”

  “Preston's fine. No worse from what you obviously put her through when you had her,” I snapped.

  “I took good care of that baby just like I done you when you were a baby,” she snorted.

  “Really? Why the bruises on her bottom?"

  Maggie didn’t even try to appear repentant. “She constantly wanted to eat. I still had my milk from when I delivered that dead baby. Yep, I kept pumping it so that I'd have it for when I took that baby girl of yours.”

  My heart was racing, my adrenaline was pumping. We were getting down to it now. I needed to keep my calm, no matter what. I wanted to let her talk.

  “Yeah, I figured I was owed a baby out of the whole deal. I'd always wanted one you know? Raising you wasn’t the same as having my own. The one that Matthew made me abort was a girl. I saw that when she came out of me, all bloody.”

  I was starting to feel nauseous. I'd presumed that if Maggie had undergone an abortion it had been done at a medical clinic. Her statement had the hint of some back-alley job done with a coat hanger. I wasn’t up for the details.

  “I believe you were trying to explain the bruises on Preston?”

  Maggie rolled her eyes as if she were already bored with the whole topic. It was reminiscent of how she'd behaved whenever she was faced with explaining her unacceptable behavior while I was growing up.

  “Oh, yeah well, she apparently wasn’t satisfied with my milk supply. She fussed the whole time she nursed at my tit. Then five minutes after she'd finish up, she'd puke it all back up and she’d want to latch back onto me. So, yes, I smacked her bare ass a few times. I finally had to make up
a sugar-tit for her so she’d leave mine alone.”

  I felt Trey stiffen in anger; I felt the same way. Maggie was continuing to rant.

  “Just like I had to smack your bare ass when you were a baby. Same damn thing. You kept trying to nurse from me thinking all tits had breast milk, I suppose; always nuzzling against me and rooting for my tit like I was your mama.”

  That was my memory of skin slapping skin; sometimes it had brought me fear and pain; other times it had made me feel disgusted. Trey had his arm around me peering down at me.

  “Who's Marley?” I asked her.

  I finally saw some emotion cross over Maggie’s pale, thin face at the mention of the name. “That’s what he called your mama; that was his pet name for Marla.”

  “Whose pet name?”

  “Why, your daddy’s,” she said as if it should've been so obvious to me. “Preston Tylar,” she stated.

  I looked up at Trey; I knew that I'd been right.

  “What can you tell me about him, Aunt Maggie?”

  I threw the ‘aunt’ in there hoping that in some way she'd feel some connection to me that might warrant her telling me the truth.

  “I suppose you've a right to know the truth. Maybe I even owe you the truth, after all I've done. I know this is it for me, Tylar. You and your handsome hubby grab a chair and sit down here so that I can see you without straining to look up and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Trey pulled a chair over and sat down, pulling me onto his lap. Maggie took another sip of water and settled back against her pillows.

  “I was three years older than your mama; our half-brother, Matthew was seven years older than me. My mama had borne him out of wedlock when she was just seventeen. Then she'd met Carson Renaud and married him; he adopted Matthew as his own. Mama had me five years after they married and then Marla came along. They were good parents to all of us. Matthew though, he had a wild streak in him.”