Hope House

by Tracy L Carbone

  Gloria nodded agreement, still stunned by both the revelation of Tommy’s involvement and Kurt’s betrayal.

  “Gloria, once I met you, I knew Tommy was wrong about you. Since the first time I saw you, I felt—”

  Gloria wanted to give in then, forgive him, pretend she had never heard what he said. But she couldn’t. “Kurt, what kind of person hires himself to two people at once. Plays both sides. That says something about your character.”

  “I don’t have any excuse for it. I don’t even know your ex, just did some work for the firm. They pay well, they don’t ask questions. He called and asked me to basically babysit you till you found out there was nothing to find.”

  “But there was something to find.”

  “Of course there was, and I swear to you from now on I’m only working for you. I mean, hell, I stopped reporting to Tommy days ago. You need to do the same.”

  He smiled at her and damn it, it melted her resolve more than she wanted. He edged closer and touched her hand. “Last night was great. I’m not big on words about stuff like that but, God, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in that clothing store.”

  He moved closer and Gloria’s heart told her to allow it. Kurt continued. “It killed me that Tommy had hired me first but I fell for you right away and didn’t want to ruin what we could have had. What we do have.”

  Gloria leaned closer to him and he kissed her soft, then a little harder. She moaned with excitement, but he pulled away. “We do have something right? Something too good to throw away?”

  “We have something,” she replied breathlessly. “But promise me, from now on, no more secrets.” Gloria ran her fingers down his chest, along his stomach, to his crotch. He penis bulged beneath his jeans.

  Kurt hesitated then spoke. “Okay.”

  “Say you promise. No more secrets.” She unzipped his fly and moved her fingers along his shaft.

  Kurt breathed deep and moaned out, “I promise. No more secrets.”

  4.

  Maison D’Espoir, Haiti, late morning

  Tad pulled off his mask and sighed. Martine looked at him and nodded that it was all right. She knew he did the best he could. Another premature birth for a patient at Maison D’Espoir because Mr. Puglisi put too many babies inside. Dr. Tad had told him several times it was not a good idea but Mr. Puglisi did not care about life or death. Only money.

  At least Stefanie was alive. But what kind of life did she have to look forward to?

  “Will you put more babies in her?”

  “No. No more babies in any of the girls. And any new ones born are not going to Mick. If the girls don’t want the children they give birth to, we’ll take them with us when we leave. I’ll adopt them.” He looked at her with bloodshot sad eyes. “We will adopt them.

  “Anni is due to birth in two weeks. After that, we are not expecting any more for over a month.” That was a relief to Martine. Maybe until she and Dr. Tad ran away there would be no patients and no births. They could meet at the clinic only to talk and plan their future together. Only be a few more days he had told her, and then they would be free of this place forever.

  He pulled off his gloves with a snap and tossed them in the trash. “Well, we weren’t expecting Stefanie to go into labor today.”

  Martine patted the girl’s forehead with a cloth. “No, we were not. Anything could happen, but maybe this is the last of the bad luck. Poor thing. She will be sad that the babies died.”

  Stefanie was asleep. Lucky to have had a C-section and been spared seeing what Martine had: more death at the hands of Mr. Puglisi.

  “At least Mick won’t get his hands on them,” Tad began as he wheeled Stefanie from the room. “Better God take them than Mick. She’ll have closure.” He wheeled Stefanie from the room.

  As Martine picked up the dressings and surgical instruments she wondered. Was it better they die than for Mr. Puglisi to adopt them to families? She would rather Luke had lived even if she never saw him again, than to know he’d died. Closure was when you found out something was over and you could put it behind you, even if you did not want to. Dr. Tad said closure gave people peace. Always wondering and hoping was foolish, he said.

  Not to Martine though. And probably not to Stefanie.

  She wished every night that Luke had lived. Knowing he was buried somewhere did not give her closure or peace. Dr. Tad was wrong about that most certainly.

  She would rather have believed, if she had been allowed, that Luke lived in a mansion full of toys, with parents who read to him every night and told him how special he was.

  Closure was not good. Martine tossed down the scalpel and clamps and ran after Dr. Tad to tell him that he needed to lie to Stefanie. Let her think the twins were fine. Let her live her life thinking they went off to a rich couple in the United States. It was a small lie but to tell the truth sometimes was the surest way to break a heart.

  5.

  Key West, late morning-Gloria

  “This is the address but I don’t see a sign that says Hope House, do you?” Gloria asked as Kurt and she pulled up in front of the large gray Victorian seaside home on Windy Key.

  “No. Maybe they moved? What was most recent birth record in the stack?”

  “Four years, I think,” Gloria replied.

  Kurt stopped the truck in the front and shut the car off. Gloria jumped at the loud ratcheting of the emergency brake as he pulled it up. “Sorry. Not used to standards?”

  “No. That’s all right. A little jumpy. Life’s been a roller coaster lately.”

  Kurt grinned proudly. “Part of the ride’s been fun though?”

  She took his hand and squeezed. “Part of it yes, but this morning, what you told me, not so fun.” She was still stung by his news this morning despite the incredible after- sex that followed. Deep breath, Gloria. Good sex isn’t everything. Correction, great sex.

  “I really am sorry. You have to believe me.”

  “I know, but it still hurt.”

  It’ll take awhile to trust you again. But I’ll need to set it aside for now. “I’m glad my phone ran out of battery before I told Tommy we were coming here,” she said as they both studied the house from the road. Pink shutters and a pretty white picket fence. Charming.

  “So am I. We’ll have to start feeding him false information. He has faith in both of us, oddly enough, so whatever we share with him can be made to work to our advantage.”

  “Yes, and we dare not trust anything my ex tells us.”

  “And we can bank on the fact that whatever you divulge to him, will be relayed to Mick Puglisi immediately, truth or not,” Kurt said.

  “I got it. Should we go in?”

  “Sure. If this isn’t the place, whoever owns the house now maybe knows where the new birthing center is,” Kurt said as he opened his door and stepped out.

  They walked toward the house together. Kurt took her hand in his.

  “We’re in this together, okay? Nothing’s changed.”

  That was good in some ways but to her a lot had changed. ‘In this together’ took on new meaning.

  Kurt knocked. The shadow of a figure came close to the door and opened it the inch or so the slide chain lock allowed.

  “Mickey is that you?” A woman called to them, her voice brimming with joy.

  Kurt looked at Gloria and mouthed, Bingo before saying, “No Ma’am, but we’re friends of Mickey’s. He sent us here to talk to you about Hope House.”

  The door shut and then opened again, this time without the lock.

  A pretty woman, about sixty, faced them. She had the bottled red hair of brunettes past their prime who refused to give into gray. Bright lipstick and eye makeup plus a fitted suit in expensive fabric told Gloria that this woman still cared a great deal about her appearance.

  A deep scar across her check and another that disfigured her bottom lip told Gloria it was an uphill battle. The woman’s right eye sagged. It wasn’t a stroke. Some kind of accident.

/>   “Hi, I’m Gloria.” She extended her hand.

  The woman took it. Fresh manicure, red nails, warm soft fingers adorned with diamond and gemstone rings. Lots of them. Good moisturizers and precious stones could stall time.

  “I’m Kurt. Mickey wanted us to stop by. He said you could give us some information about Hope House.”

  “Oh yes. Code words, I get it. Come in.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know your first name,” Gloria ventured. Of course she didn’t know her last name either.

  “Maria. Maria P—Parker. How well do you know my Mickey?”

  “Pretty well, we just didn’t want to sound so formal,” Kurt said.

  “Meaning you weren’t sure which name I was using?”

  Gloria looked to Kurt, not sure what that meant.

  “Well, come in and sit down, why don’t you? I can get you some iced tea. I just made some.” Her lips moved when she talked but out of synch with her words. The bottom lip was a syllable or two behind.

  “That would be great,” Gloria replied.

  Kurt still held Gloria’s hand. This woman, Gloria guessed, must be Mick Puglisi’s mother. My Mickey, she had said. And she had hesitated when giving her surname. Gloria again wondered what had happened to her face.

  Had Mick’s father done this to her?

  “It’s silly really, Mickey naming this place. He said it’s for tax purposes.”

  “So this is just your residence? Not a birthing center?” Kurt asked, letting go of Gloria’s hand and stepping closer to Maria Parker.

  “No. None of them are born here, silly.” She turned around quickly and faced Kurt’s strong body opposing hers. “I—well, you said you were friends with Mickey. So I—” Suddenly she dabbed at her face with her petite, pretty fingers, lightly tracing the scars. “I thought you were dropping off or picking up—oh, dear. I shouldn’t have said anything.” The painted fingers shook violently now, like frightened Vaudeville girls in a raid.

  “Picking up what?” Kurt asked. He seemed to have grown six inches since they stepped in the front door, and his menacing look frightened Gloria. She was damn glad she wasn’t his target.

  “The b—nothing. Nothing.” Still she ran her hands over her face.

  Gloria took a shot in the dark by asking, “How did you get hurt, Mrs. Puglisi?”

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not allowed to be called that. Mrs. Puglisi is dead. Dead. Cheated on her husband. Now she’s dead. That’s what happens. I’m just Marie. Marie Parker.” She ran from the room, looking over her shoulder and batting the air. Fleeing from someone who wasn’t there. Not anymore.

  “Just go,” she called out from the behind the swinging kitchen door. “Just go. You never saw me. I didn’t tell you anything!”

  Then her voice rose in pitch and in fear. “I didn’t say anything to them, I swear I didn’t.”

  “She’s talking to herself,” Kurt said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure but she’ll call someone eventually. We don’t have much time.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go upstairs and look around. No one else is here or she would have yelled out to them. Here’s my phone. Take a quick look around for anything that might help us and get pictures. I’ll watch her.”

  Gloria bolted up the large wide glossy steps, a tasteful Oriental runner and brass rods cushioning her steps. The second floor was a long, wallpapered hallway with a series of doors. All hard wood, all with glass door knobs. Behind one, music played. Classical.

  Carefully and quietly Gloria turned the knob. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Rows of cribs filled the large pale pink room enhanced with yellow wall paper border. Ten cribs. Damn big room. She stepped inside. All empty. She took out her phone and took a picture anyway. It might be evidence she’d need in future.

  Another door in the room off to her left caught her attention. Closet? No, the double doors on the right most likely opened to that. Maybe a bathroom. She opened it and found another room, just as big. This one was light blue. The same music played. Must be a central system that piped music throughout the floor.

  Ten more cribs. But this room felt different. Smelled different. She peered into one of the cribs and saw twin babies swaddled separately but lying side by side. They were asleep and calm. She took their picture. From the smell, they needed a diaper change but she wasn’t here for that. She quickly looked into a couple of the other cribs and saw a few more babies. Five in all. She peered to the other side of the room to see if there were more children but then she heard Kurt yell, “Gloria.”

  She turned and ran, taking one more picture of the room before heading down.

  “We have to go. Now!”

  “You won’t believe—” Gloria started to tell Kurt about the babies and all the empty cribs until she saw the reason for Kurt’s urgency to leave.

  Maria Puglisi aimed a small handgun at them. Her hands trembled violently and her eye makeup ran down her face, carried by tears. Black rivers rolled over her scarred cheeks and across the twisted lip.

  “I don’t want to kill you, really I don’t. I know how it feels to be afraid and I’m sorry I have to scare you. But please leave and don’t come back. Please. You didn’t see anything right?”

  “Nothing,” Kurt promised. “We were looking for Hope House but clearly this isn’t the place.”

  The woman’s arms relaxed a bit and the gun lowered.

  “No?” she asked, obviously wanting to believe she’d fooled them.

  “No, we came in and asked you about Hope House and you said it wasn’t the place, remember?” Gloria offered.

  She smiled. Gloria guessed the woman’s brains had been scrambled along with her face if she could so easily block out the last few minutes.

  “Right. That’s right. I didn’t say anything, did I?” She wiped her makeup with her hand.

  “We’re obviously at the wrong house, Mrs. Parker. So sorry to disturb you,” Gloria said as she backed away toward the door, now holding Kurt’s hand for dear life.

  “Parker, yes. That’s my name. Maria Parker.”

  Kurt and Gloria walked out the front door and Gloria heard the chain lock slide behind them.

  “They don’t know!” the woman yelled to the air from inside. “See, I didn’t tell them anything.” After that Gloria didn’t hear her because she jumped in Kurt’s truck and they drove away.

  “So Mick’s mother is hidden away on this island, allowed to live in the big house so long as she doesn’t tell anyone who she is. Her scars are her punishment for adultery.”

  “And being banished from her family,” Gloria added.

  Kurt nodded. “Apart from learning a Puglisi dark family secret this was kind of a wasted trip.”

  “It wasn’t a waste. You don’t know what I saw.”

  “What did you see?” He gripped her arm to emphasize his interest in this news.

  Gloria queued up his phone and displayed the pictures. He glanced from the road to look.

  “Cribs?”

  “Rooms full of cribs. You heard what she started to say. That the babies aren’t born here. I believe it. I didn’t see any evidence of the biological mothers being here. No pregnant women milling about. Just the babies. Maria thought we were here to pick up or drop off,” Gloria reminded him.

  “Okay, so Puglisi uses this place as a holding and distribution center. He brings the babies here before carting them to Miami to his agency when it’s time for them to go to the new families.”

  “Right,” Gloria said. “But where does he drop them off? And why do all the records show the infants being born here?”

  “She said something about tax purposes. Calling it Hope House for tax purposes, she said.” Kurt chewed his lip. “We need to go to the adoptive parents.”

  “We can’t go back to the Ganders. I’ve put them through enough.”

  “No not them. Let’s pick some from the files I grabbed. Maybe they can shed some light o
n this, tell us something that will help figure out why he’d say the births happened here, as opposed to the truth.”

  Gloria reached under the seat and grabbed the files, surprised her hands were steady. She was nonplussed by her their most recent brush with death—an obviously disturbed woman brandishing a gun in their faces. How quickly people could get used to running for their lives. The first time someone had tried to kill her and failed, Gloria had accepted the existence of her guardian angel.

  She looked over at Kurt, his big strong hands handling the wheel as they had handled her body only a few hours earlier. If she did have an angel protecting her from death, his name was Kurt Malone, and he was one hell of lover.

  She smiled and flipped open the first manila folder. “Portland, Maine.”

  6.

  Key West, same time-Kurt

  “Portland, Maine is good. Where else you got?”

  He watched Gloria as she checked file after file and called out the addresses where the adoptive parents lived. He was amazed at her serenity. Only a few minutes earlier a woman whose face resembled a broken and poorly mended vase had held a gun to them. The lady was fractured mentally as well and Kurt had been scared shitless. People like that didn’t think twice about killing, didn’t care about consequences or repercussions. Someone always came along to clean up the mess. Kurt had been eyeing the doorway while feeling in his pocket for something to use as a weapon. But it hadn’t come to that.

  Maria Puglisi had let them go.

  Compared to his inner jitters, Gloria seemed fine. Maybe she was in shock, or there was more than pot in Joe’s brownies and the effects lingered. He’d expected to have a hysterical female on his hands, but he’d gotten nothing of the sort. She held it together and reviewed the files with such nonchalance that Kurt thought she may as well be checking a grocery receipt to ensure she hadn’t been overcharged.

  This gorgeous woman with the hot body and a surprising sexual appetite could really hold her own when the going got tough.

  After she read all the address from the files, Kurt said, “Hold up. Where do you live again?”