Michael's Baby

by Cathie Linz

  Reluctantly he handed it over. “What makes you think you can come waltzing in here and expect to get your baby back after abandoning her for months?”

  “I don’t expect anything,” the young woman replied, sniffing back the tears that threatened to make her double coat of mascara run down her pale face. “I just want to make sure my little girl is fine.”

  “She’s fine,” Brett whispered huskily. “Would you like to come in a minute, have some tea or something?”

  Michael looked at Brett as if she were out of her mind as she put an arm around the trembling young woman and guided her to the chair closest to the front door.

  “I don’t want anything, thanks,” Denise said. “I don’t mean to be a nuisance.”

  “I know.” Brett patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Do you think you can tell us what happened, what made you do what you did?”

  As Brett listened to Denise’s story, which was an all too familiar one, full of bad decisions and rotten luck, something just didn’t ring true.

  Denise ended her sad tale by saying, “I ran out of money and couldn’t take care of my little girl any more.”

  Whereupon Michael said, “So you want us to continue to take care of her. Adopt her, maybe?”

  “Oh, no. She’s mine. I couldn’t give her up.”

  “And it doesn’t look like you can take care of her, either.”

  “If I had more money I could.” Jumping up and slipping past Michael, the woman rushed to the playpen, where she grabbed Hope. Picking her up, she hugged the little girl, who immediately started crying.

  “Put the baby down,” he ordered in a tone of voice that had made grown men cringe.

  The young woman gave him an openly defiant look before doing as he’d directed.

  Brett rushed over to soothe the upset baby while Michael took Denise aside. Handing her his business card, he said, “Come to my office tomorrow afternoon and bring that birth certificate with you, along with every other piece of identification you’ve got.”

  “You can’t keep my baby without my permission,” Denise said, her previous timid demeanor replaced with a swagger he suspected was more in keeping with her normal personality.

  “First off, I intend to verify that she really is your baby.”

  “I already told you…”

  “And I’m telling you that it won’t hurt you to wait until tomorrow.”

  “You better bring my baby to the meeting,” Denise stated a low voice that was clearly a warning. “Otherwise I’ll go to the authorities and tell them you’ve kidnapped her.”

  “Child abandonment is a serious crime in this state,” Michael retorted. “I don’t think you want to involve the authorities.”

  “I don’t want to, but I will if you try and double-cross me. You can count on it, mister.” Any trace of tears had long since disappeared, replaced by a sneer that twisted her brightly colored lips. She walked out, her three-inch heels clicking on the wood floor. Michael closed the door behind her, vowing to find out everything there was to know about Denise Petty before another twenty-four hours had gone by.

  “Oh, Michael, what are we going to do?” Brett asked in a trembling voice as she held Hope in her arms, her hand cradling the little girl’s head protectively.

  “I can tell you what we’re not going to do. We’re not going to panic. And we’re not handing Hope over to that woman.”

  “We can’t keep a baby from her real mother.”

  “What makes you think that woman was any kind of good mother?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Brett whispered.

  “I can’t believe you invited her into our home. And I can’t believe that you’re even thinking of handing Hope over to that woman!”

  “That woman is Hope’s mother.”

  “You’re out of your mind, do you know that? The way you were treating her, offering her tea, practically offering her Hope on a silver platter. What’s the matter, are you tired of taking care of the baby already?”

  She looked at him with stricken eyes. “How can you say that? I love Hope more than anything.”

  “So do I. And I plan on fighting to keep her!”

  Putting a calmed-down Hope back in her playpen, Brett handed her a plastic key ring which was a favorite toy of hers, before speaking to Michael again. But by now anger replaced her pain as she glared at him. “How dare you insinuate that I’m tired of looking after Hope!” Infuriated, she socked his arm. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  Rubbing his arm, he frowned. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I know how much you love Hope.”

  “Have I ever done anything to indicate that I was tired of her?”

  “No, you’re great with her. I panicked, okay? The thought of that woman walking off with our baby made me panic for a minute. And you’ve got such a soft heart, you’d give someone the coat right off your back.”

  “Well, I don’t plan on handing Hope over on a silver platter, okay? I’m not that generous. Not by a long shot. Do you have any idea how much that little girl means to me?” Her voice quavered.

  “J know. I was an idiot. I’m sorry I hurt you,” he murmured, running his fingers down her cheek. “I’d rather cut off my right arm than do that.”

  “Keep your right arm. We might need it to fight off the dragon lady.”

  Her irritated description made him laugh. “So you didn’t like her, either?”

  “There was just something about her…And then there was the way Hope cried when Denise picked her up. Granted, Hope is going through this period now where she has separation anxiety…”

  Michael knew how that felt. He was secretly worried that he and Brett would be separated somehow.

  “But still you’d think she’d have some memory of her mother,” Brett continued. “Even if she didn’t, I didn’t like the way Denise held Hope. I didn’t sense a lot of caring there.”

  “Good. Then you’re with me about fighting her.”

  “I don’t know how successful we can be. We always knew there was the possibility that Hope’s real mother would come back for her.”

  “Yeah, we should have prepared for this eventuality. I guess both of us were enjoying the world we’d made too much to want to disturb the dream.”

  Did that mean he thought they’d only been playing house while the reality was that Hope wasn’t really theirs? Had the happiness they’d shared these past weeks just been a fool’s paradise? If so, Denise’s arrival had brought them down to earth with a crash.

  “I read on the birth certificate that Hope was born on June 1st,” Michael said. “That means you judged her age right on the money.”

  His words brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, Michael. What are we going to do if she takes Hope away?”

  “We won’t let her.”

  But his words didn’t console Brett. Even being in his arms couldn’t comfort her, couldn’t erase the terror striking her heart.

  What would she do if she lost Hope? How could she survive such a loss? Brett’s panic ran so deep, she couldn’t even cry, much as she wanted to. It was terrifying to think how fragile her happiness had been, built on dreams.

  She lacked the blind faith to believe everything would work out in the end—it never had in the past, not unless she’d worked and fought for it.

  Don’t be a nuisance, Brett.

  Why do you always have to want more?

  I need a woman who can be a real wife.

  Her past was there again, nipping at her heels and eating away at her self-confidence.

  Was this what she got for wanting too much? She’d had a family, but she’d wanted more. She’d wanted Michael to love her. A physical attraction hadn’t been enough. And now look what had happened—she could lose everything.

  Michael had just made some headway in his efforts to pull every bit of information on Denise Petty from his office computer when the phone rang. Denise hadn’t shown up, and he hadn’t brought little Hope to the office. Stalemate.
>
  He had to be missing something…

  His secretary buzzed him. “Collect call for you on line one.”

  “Who’s it from?” he demanded, annoyed at the interruption.

  “I couldn’t make out the name.”

  Muttering under his breath, Michael punched the blinking extension button.

  A tinny message said, “Collect call from…” There was a pause as the recorded message was inserted: “Juan.”

  “Will you accept the charges?” the operator asked.

  “No. I don’t know anyone named Juan.”

  Slamming down the phone, Michael’s attention immediately went back to his computer screen. Two minutes later Lorraine buzzed him again. “What?”

  “Collect call on line one. Claims it’s an emergency.”

  Thinking it might be Brett, he grabbed the phone, impatiently waiting for the tinny message before the recorded section said “Juan-Brett’s-friend-from-the-youth-, center-about-Brett” all in one rush.

  “Yes, I’ll accept the call,” Michael told the operator. “Has something happened to Brett?” he demanded of Juan. “Is she hurt?”

  “Not yet, but she could be,” Juan replied.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that some kind of threat?”

  “Man, you are so ignorant! Brett is too good for you!” Juan retorted.

  “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “Not over the phone. Come meet me at the youth center. In half an hour. It’s about Brett.and that baby you’re keeping, the one that was left on your doorstep.”

  The next sound Michael heard was the dial tone. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed his coat from the coat rack and headed out the door.

  “Where are you going?” Lorraine demanded.,

  “Personal business.”

  “That’s all you seem to be doing lately. At this rate you’re not going to have any clients left.”

  “Considering the fact that I’ve worked my butt off for my clients every day since I took over this faltering business, I think they could cut me a little slack here. That goes for you, too.”

  “Ah, it’s good to have your old fighting self back,” Lorraine said approvingly. “You’ve been brooding up a storm all day. Not at all like your old self. Besides, you’ve got enough business as it is.”

  “Listen, while I’m gone, get that security report done up for Anderson Construction. The cassette is on my desk.”

  “With a voice like yours, you should be reading those books on tape, not dictating security recommendations,” she told him for the umpteenth time.

  “Yeah, right. If my wife calls, be sure and have me paged.”

  It was only three o’clock, but heavy traffic and sleet turned a twenty-five minute trip to St. Gerald’s into a forty-minute one. Throughout it, Michael’s thoughts remained on his newfound family and what part Juan played in all this. What if the kid was just being a smart-ass, leading him on some juvenile wild-goose chase?

  Squeezing his car into the nearest parking space, Michael ran into the youth center, nearly sliding on the slippery pavement as he yanked open the door.

  “You’re late,” Juan said from just inside.

  “Listen, you’re lucky I chased out here at all,” Michael growled, his patience at an end. “This better be damn good!”

  “It will be worth your while,” was all Juan said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Brett shifted her book bag as she climbed the steps to her building’s front door. She’d almost skipped her Wednesday class, wanting to stay home with Hope and hold her tight so that no one could take her away. But Michael had convinced her that wouldn’t be the best thing to do. After all, she’d only be gone three hours. So she’d left, only to worry about Hope the whole time. As she walked into the building, her fears were intensified by the crowd waiting for her in the hallway—Mr. and Mrs. Stephanopolis, Frieda and Consuela and Keisha. The only one missing was Tyrone. And Hope.

  “What’s wrong? Is it Hope? Did something happen to her?” Brett demanded, her heart in her throat, squeezing the words as she tried to get them out.

  “Hope is fine,” Frieda hurriedly reassured her. “Consuela is watching over her while she naps.”

  “Is it Michael? Did something happen to Michael?”

  “Not as far we as know,” Frieda replied.

  “But something did happen,” Mr. Stephanopolis said.

  “Don’t leave the girl in suspense,” his wife declared. “Just tell her someone tried to kidnap her baby.”

  “So much for breaking it to her gently,” Frieda muttered.

  “What?” Brett gasped. “Someone tried to kidnap Hope?”

  “They tried to snatch her right out of her bounce chair,” Frieda said.

  “How did they get into your apartment?”

  “Well, she said she was a friend of yours when she knocked at my door. She was wearing a black leather, jacket and enough mascara and eyeliner to sink a battle ship.”

  That sounded like Denise, all right. “How did she even get into the building?”

  “That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Stephanopolis inserted. “I had so many groceries to carry that I propped the outer door open with a flagstone. Apparently she slipped inside while I was upstairs.”

  “When I told her that you were at class, she practically pushed herself into our living room and snatched the baby from her bounce chair. She was all ready to run out the door but I blocked her. That’s when Consuela came in, waving her cooking spoon and shouting for the woman to put Hope down or we’d call the police.”

  “Did you call the police?” Bett asked.

  Frieda shook her head. “Keisha came in at that point.”

  Keisha promptly picked up the storytelling. “I heard all: the commotion as I walked in the building. The door to their place was still open, so I went in and saw what was going on. I grabbed the per…”

  “Stop with the cop-show talk,” Frieda protested.

  “We restrained the suspect,” Keisha said.

  “They retrained her?” Mr. Stephanopolis said with a tap to his hearing aid. “I gotta get a new battery for this darn thing.”

  “You better sit down, you look pale,” Frieda told Brett.

  “I want to see Hope.”

  Nodding understandingly, Frieda ushered Brett into their apartment, opened the bedroom door and showed where Hope was sleeping. Consuela was watching over her, doing some needlework as she rocked in the rocking chair.

  Brett didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until that moment. Only when she touched her baby’s soft arm did she relax. Hope was hers—not by right of biology, but by right of love. And no one was going to steal her. No way! She’d fight to the death to protect what was hers.

  Gathering her composure, Brett kissed the little girl’s dimpled cheek before returning to the living room, whereupon Mr. Stephanopolis said, “Did you tell her about the part where I came down with my big fishing net and snagged her? Biggest fish I ever did catch,” he declared with a laugh.

  Brett closed her eyes. This was beginning to sound like a Keystone Kops episode.

  “Where is she now?” she asked.

  “Keisha has her cuffed to the radiator in your old apartment downstairs,” Frieda admitted.

  “I had to stick a sock in her mouth to shut her up,” Keisha said.

  “How long has she been there?”

  “Only a few minutes. This just happened. We were getting ready to call the police when you came home.”

  “There’s no need to call the police,” Brett said. “I know the woman. I’m sorry she caused such a scene, and I dearly appreciate your going to such lengths to protect Hope.”

  “We said we’d take care of her while you were at class,” Frieda stated. “Of course we’d protect her. We’ve heard stories on TV about babies being snatched and never found again. We weren’t about to let that happen to little Hope.”

  “I’d better go down
and talk to the woman,” Brett said.

  “Who is she?”

  Brett didn’t know how to answer that. If she told them the truth, they might call the police. Handcuffing and gagging Hope’s real mother in the basement wouldn’t look good to the authorities.

  “She’s someone I know,” Brett finally replied.

  “She has mental problems if you ask me,” Frieda declared. “Her eyes were set close together. Never a good sign.”

  “Come on, I’ll go downstairs with you,” Keisha said, putting an arm around Brett. Once they were on the relative privacy of the stairs, Keisha softly confessed, “I figured you wouldn’t want the police involved. I heard the woman when she was here yesterday. I was coming up from the basement with the wash when she stood outside your door and said she was Hope’s mother. It may not have been smart to cuff her to the radiator, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want her taking off with that baby. She looked like trouble. Not the maternal type, you know what I mean?”

  Brett nodded. “I really appreciate this, Keisha,” she whispered unsteadily.

  “Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me now, girl. We got to face this wild woman in the basement first.”

  Brett’s old apartment looked cold and empty, but the hatred emanating from Denise Petty’s eyes was laser-hot. When Brett removed the sock from her mouth, Denise spewed a string of venomous curses before Keisha held up the sock threateningly. “You shut your mouth, girl, or I’ll shut it for you.”

  “You’re going to be sorry you ever messed with me,” Denise spat, reaching out to try and slap Keisha, who wisely stood out of reach since the other woman was still cuffed to the radiator.

  Acting as peacemaker, Brett said, “Calm down, Denise. I know you’re upset right now, but I’m sure we can work things out.”

  “What planet are you living on?” Denise retorted.

  But Brett knew exactly what she was doing. She’d worked with troublemakers like Denise before. “I know you didn’t really mean to scare everyone.”

  Sensing that Brett was now on her side, Denise sent Keisha a triumphant look before lowering her eyes, and her voice. “That’s right. I just came to see my daughter.”