Hurry Home

by Roz Nay

  Result! Buster removed from parents. And I’m telling Morris about Ruth. I wait for a few seconds. He usually texts me back instantly. But there’s nothing. Aren’t u pleased? I type.

  I look down at my phone again. No new message. I miss u, I type. Had a great time last night. No reply.

  There’s a tap on my door and Morris’s head peeps around. “Can we have a quick chitchat?” he asks. “In my office.”

  I follow him down the hallway, pleased. Once we’re inside, I close the door as he moves papers off the extra chair so I can sit down.

  “You’ve read my email,” I say. “Haven’t you?”

  He raises an eyebrow as he sits and steeples his fingers in front of him. “The thing is, Alex,” he says, “I’m onto you.”

  “What?” Blood rushes to my neck and throat.

  He drums one finger against the other while my mouth gets tackier. “You can try to play things down all you want, but the fact that you’ve written that email at all tells me the situation with your sister is serious.”

  I exhale in a rush of held breath. “You’re right. Maybe I should have come to you sooner.”

  “With family, things can be … very … murky. We often give loved ones more credit than they deserve.” He pauses so the lesson drives home. “I suspect you’re too loyal to Ruth to really describe the depths of her problem. That must have been a hard email to write.”

  When I speak again, my voice cracks. “It was hard to write. It really was.”

  “And the baby is due very soon. Let me ask you this: Is there a likelihood of future harm to the child?” He doesn’t let me speak before he flaps a hand at me. “Obviously there is. The father’s history of violence and drugs. Her past history.”

  “Yes, you’re right, Morris. There is a likelihood of harm here. In fact, I have to tell you I’ve also mentioned this to Sully. He investigated Eli Beck, discovered he’s a fugitive. He’s keeping an eye out for him and will arrest him if he’s seen around town.” I pause. It’s all in the timing. “But my sister. I’m worried she’ll get caught in all this.”

  “Isn’t she already?”

  “Yes. She’s involved with the drugs. But her baby shouldn’t have to pay for her sins.” There. It’s done. No turning back now. “And there’s one more thing I need to tell you. She’s hidden drugs in my house.”

  Morris pales. “Do you know where they are? Are we talking a lot of drugs?”

  “Yes. Thousands of dollars’ worth, and cash. I’m afraid it’s enough to classify her as a dealer.”

  “Good Christ, Alex. Does Sully know that part? Did he confiscate the drugs and the money?”

  I stand up and pace in the tiny room. “I probably should have come to you earlier, Morris. But I…”

  His face softens. “You were frightened you’d get your sister into more trouble, that she’d be another pregnant mother in custody. So you didn’t go that far with Sully.”

  “Yes.” I stop, cover my mouth with a palm. “I hope I haven’t made a mistake. I’m worried there’s not enough time to do the right thing.”

  “I’m sure there’s still time.” Morris holds out a Kleenex box, waits while I sit back down and dab my eyes. “The first thing we have to do is report the drugs. Do you know where they are?”

  I nod, burying my face in my tissue for effect.

  “We removed Buster Floyd for much less. Alex, you have to know what this means. You do, don’t you?”

  He thinks he’s leading me. I look up at him, my eyes steely and real. “Ruth’s child is in danger. And he’s my blood. He’s mine. I’m ready to accept that now. I hear you, Morris.” I let out a shaky breath. “We have grounds for removal.”

  Morris reaches out his hand, places it on the papers in front of him. “I know this is hard for you. But we have to move quickly. Those drugs need to be confiscated, and we must put a birth alert out at the hospital, let them know a child is due to be born who will need protection.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Can we go and get the drugs ourselves, though? Rather than call the police? It just seems so much less intrusive that way. And, honestly, Ruth’s a bit of a flight risk.” I’ve come this far. I have to finish this myself.

  “It’s not really procedure, Alex, but for you I’ll make an exception. We can do this subtly, keep our footsteps light. We don’t want her disappearing. That’s the worst-case scenario for the child.”

  “Exactly.” Exactly what I knew you’d say.

  “You’ve done the right thing in coming to me.” He stands. “I applaud your commitment.”

  “Thank you.” I open the door and walk out in front of him, concealing my smile with my tissue. I check my watch. It’s just after ten. If I read Ruth’s text message right last night, she should be meeting Eli now. The house will be empty, unless Chase is there, but I can deal with him. “Should we get going now, Morris?”

  “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. Let me just tell Minerva we’re popping out for an hour or so.”

  Morris drives at a measured pace, following the mirror-signal-maneuver rules of the road, hands at two and ten. Every now and then, he gives me a sympathetic smile. Neither of us speaks. We don’t turn on the radio.

  When we park in front of the apartment building, I notice that the bay window of the loft is open, but that doesn’t mean anything. Chase leaves it open day and night through the summer whether he’s home or not.

  “Will anyone be in?” Morris asks.

  “Ruth’s on bed rest, so yes,” I lie. “Chase might be keeping her company.”

  “Well, I’ll take the lead. You can let me do the talking. I’ll keep things vague.”

  Perfect. I walk Morris in through the main entrance and up the stairs to our front door.

  “Deep breath,” he whispers as I slide the key into the lock. But as the door swings open, it’s obvious there’s nobody home. Ruth’s couch sheets are neatly folded, and both her and Chase’s shoes are gone. I was right. And he must have gone with her.

  Morris looks around, raises his eyebrows for a second as if surprised by the designer loft on my social worker’s salary.

  “Wait here,” I say. “I know where she’s hidden the drugs.” Quickly I move to the bedroom and close the door. I crouch low and ease off the front panel of the heating vent, but when I put my hand into the gap and feel around in there, it’s empty. I strain lower, reach deeper. The tin is gone. What the hell? I think, blood starting to thrum in my ears. Who’s moved it? Who knows? I turn a full circle in the bedroom, kick the chair so it rams into the wall. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Alex?” Morris calls from the living room. “Is everything okay in there?”

  I take a deep breath and walk back out of the bedroom. “The tin’s not here, Morris,” I say. “Ruth’s taken it. Maybe she’s hidden it somewhere else.”

  “Oh, that’s not good.” Morris frowns.

  I grab my cell and call Chase. But the call just rings and rings. Eventually it goes to voice mail. I lower the phone and stare at the screen in confusion. Is Chase ignoring me?

  “I think the best thing to do at this point, Alex, is to notify the police and have them do a full-scale sweep of the apartment. It’s standard procedure. We need to follow the rules. They’re in place for a reason.”

  “Yes,” I say, distracted. I check my phone. Sully still hasn’t gotten back to me. What the hell is going on? Just as I’m putting the phone back into my pocket, it rings. I press the cell to my ear without looking at it.

  “Hi, Chase,” I say quickly, but it isn’t his voice on the line.

  “It’s Sully.”

  “Oh, sorry. Hi,” I say.

  “Your sister’s in labor,” he replies. His voice is cool, clipped.

  “She’s what? She’s not due yet.”

  “Her water just broke. I’m heading up to the hospital with her and Chase.”

  “You and Chase are at the hospital together?” There’s nothing but silence on the other end of the line. “Is the bab
y all right?” As I’m talking, Morris moves to the bay window and takes out his phone. He’s calling in the birth alert. Good.

  “They’re both doing fine,” Sully says. “I gotta go.”

  “Wait! Sully—” But there’s a click, and the line goes dead.

  Morris finishes his call, then looks over at me.

  “We need to get to the hospital now,” I say, heading toward the door. But when I turn, he hasn’t moved an inch.

  “I know you’re desperate to see your sister,” he says. “But you can’t, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If we’re going to remove a newborn from a mother’s custody, we can’t have you—her sister, and a social worker in our employ—on the scene. It’s a conflict of interest. Remember: by the book, okay? I’m so sorry.”

  “But, Morris—”

  “You’re an excellent sister. Truly dedicated. And you’re doing the right thing. Come on, let’s get back to the office.”

  I follow Morris out to the car. This is the one turn of events I hadn’t planned for, and it puts everything in jeopardy. The drugs. The baby. Everything. I reach for the cell in my pocket and dial Sully back. It rings and rings. I hang up and try again. The realization wheezes like a flu in my chest. He’s refusing to answer my call. All the way back to the office, my brain scrambles to figure out why.

  RUTH

  There’s a din in my head that sounds like wailing. It takes me a moment to realize the sound is coming from outside of me, that it’s beyond my pain. Chase drives me through the town as Sully leads us, carving a path through traffic to the emergency room with his siren on and police lights flashing. Everything about me feels about to burst. What are we going to do? I want to yell at Chase, but I’m woozy, and the words won’t take shape. My bag lolls at my feet with the tin of drugs still inside it. Chase skids to a halt behind the police car as three nurses come running, easing me out of my seat and onto a gurney, rattling me fast toward the main entrance.

  “I’m right behind you,” Chase shouts, but I’m not ready, I can’t go, Sully is going to find everything out. The last I see of Chase, he’s hooked my bag over one shoulder and is hurrying to lock the vehicle. Then the main entrance doors sweep close behind me, and I’m rushed along vinyl yellow hallways, ceiling lights streaking above me like comets. Flat on my back, I battle not to pass out.

  The nurses wheel me into a private room and transfer me into a bed just as a fresh stab of pain hits and I begin to cry. For Alex, for me, for this baby. For everything that’s happened that I can’t undo. More than anything I want my mom, to have her kiss me on the forehead like she used to, and love me again. My little owl. But I can’t think about Mom for too long: nothing about her memory is steadying.

  “It’s all right, dear,” a nurse says, strapping a heart monitor around the bulk of me. Another nurse jams my finger into a plastic clip. Machines begin to beep at the side of my bed.

  “What’s happening?” I ask. “Is my baby okay?”

  “You’re doing fine,” the nurse says, her eyes kind. “Deep breaths. Nice and steady. Have some of this.” She hands me a cup of ice chips, but another wave of pain breaks over me, and I bat her fingers away, the ice skittering into the corner. The beep of the heart monitor hammers like a boat motor.

  “I need to talk to Chase.”

  “Chase? Is he your husband, love?” The nurse reads monitors as she speaks.

  “I need him. I need my bag!”

  She pats me once on the knee. “I’ll go find him for you.” As she leaves, she passes a doctor in the doorway. “This baby’s coming fast. No time for an epidural.”

  The doctor glances at the monitors at the foot of my bed, then looks up at me. “Let’s get ready to push, Ruth.”

  He says something else, but it’s like I’m watching him through glass: I can see his mouth moving, but I can’t fathom any of the sound. I’m all grit and sweat as I grapple to bear down. Then Chase is there, and I grab at his hand.

  “Chase, my bag.”

  “I’ve taken care of it,” he says. “Concentrate on this now.”

  I squeeze his hand as another contraction rips through me. He flinches, but he doesn’t complain. You’re doing great, he mouths encouragingly, but his face is tight.

  I push and push, curling in and in on myself, forgetting everything else around me, trying to survive. Every now and again, I slide out of the present, as if I’m somewhere else in the room, wake-dreaming through these moments and other, older ones. I see Pim on the gate. His little knees beside me. Then, as another contraction rips through me, I blink feverishly at the sight of Alex beside me, switching off all the monitors. She’s wearing a surgical mask, only her eyes showing above it, and she’s moving in toward the lower half of me, a scalpel in one hand. I scream out loud and the outline of her shimmers away. It’s the pain, I think, grimacing through the dream fever, trying to keep a grip on what’s real.

  And then there’s one last effort, so strong that my lower half feels galvanized—a stinging, savage heave that splits my body in two—and everyone’s crowding my knees, all eyes above masks are smiling. I peer down to see. They’ve got a towel around little legs, little arms, dabbing at a face as they check it. The doctor passes me a bundle in a raspy blanket.

  “Congratulations, Ruth,” he says. “You have a baby boy.”

  And he’s in my arms. My little boy. His face is squashed, but he’s warm and perfect. His hair is mocha brown, his skin olive; it’s Pim all over again. A perfect copy of my little brother rests in my arms, and everything I know about the world changes and aligns. He’s here, my son, my boy. And I know exactly who I am. I know the very thing I was meant for.

  “Hi,” I say, my fingertips shaking at the edge of the towel. He snuffles, pushing at his button nose with a tiny knuckle.

  “Well done, Ruth,” Chase says as he stands to the side of the bed, but his voice is cracking.

  “This is Will,” I say. “I’m naming him after my brother. After Willem. After Pim.”

  “He’s beautiful,” Chase says, his eyes teary like mine.

  When I start to drift off, the nurses take Will, swaddle him, and place him in a little see-through crib next to my bed, and I sink into a soundless, heavy sleep.

  It must be late afternoon when I wake. The beeping of machines sounds less severe. They’ve left the overhead light on in the room, so everything feels brighter. I move carefully onto my side and watch my son in his crib, his tiny swirled head in a soft cashmere hat now, fists in little mittens. Here we are, alone in the quietness, and everything about me is smiling. So this is what it’s like, I think. This is happiness. But then I see the chair on the other side of my room—flat on the seat, is my bag. Chase must have brought it in. But it’s floppy and empty-looking. There’s no way the tin is still in there. I lie rigid, concentrating on Will, trying to believe in nothing but the new beginning of him, while I think over and over again about the possibilities. Where is the tin? Who has it? And worse: Where is my sister? Through the fade of the afternoon, I sleep fitfully, and even in my dreams, I imagine the worst.

  * * *

  Chase comes back the next morning holding a balloon on a string. It’s blue with the word Congratulations written across it in stretched cursive. He ties it to the end of my bed. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  “Like I can’t believe I did it.” I’m holding Will against my chest and he’s awake, gazing up at me. “Look at him. He’s beautiful.”

  “Here, I found this on the floor of the car.” He holds up Pim’s clothespin. “I thought you’d want it.”

  I take it from Chase, wrap it in close to Will’s body in the muslin. Immediately his little fingers curl around the wood.

  Chase stands for a moment, watching the baby, as an easy summer light floods the room and the balloon above my bed sways gently.

  “It suits you,” Chase says. “Motherhood, I mean. I’ve never seen you look calmer.” But there’s something
flat in the way he says it. Something’s wrong.

  “Have you seen Alex? Where is she?”

  “At the loft.” He runs a palm across his jaw.

  “Good,” I reply. She can do less damage from there. When I came to Moses River, I wanted to believe in her, but she clearly didn’t believe in me. She took all the truth I gave her and twisted it into a weapon.

  “She’s—” Chase begins, but then the door to my room opens, and Sully walks in. My grip around Will tightens. Sully’s out of uniform, wearing a faded Rockies baseball T-shirt and jeans.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I invited him,” Chase says, shifting his weight.

  Feathery panic brushes the inside of my head. “Chase, what have you done?”

  “Sully has the drugs now.” His words come out in a torrent. “I told him everything about Pim, about Alex, and her web of lies, and I gave him the tin. I didn’t see another way out, Ruth. So I told him the truth.”

  My eyes lock on Sully. “I should never have brought those drugs into their house, but I’m telling you, I never moved them. They disappeared. Then reappeared somewhere else. And there’s only three people who live there—me, Chase, and my sister.”

  Sully takes a step forward. “You’re not in trouble. Eli’s in police custody, and he hasn’t said anything about the drugs—probably doesn’t want to incriminate himself. I’ve submitted the tin to the police as seized.”

  “Seized from who?” I ask warily.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Alex’s version of events doesn’t match yours and Chase’s. She acknowledged the drugs existed, but she didn’t bring them to me. Chase did.”

  “But they weren’t mine,” Chase says, his eyes wide. “The only person who could have moved them was Alex. What I want to know is why.”

  Sully eyes Chase for a long time with a look I just can’t understand. “I’ve always been a good judge of character,” Sully says, breaking the silence, “but everyone can make a mistake. She asked me to check into your past, Ruth. And I did. She also said she took you for an abortion when you were both young. I checked the records on that, too. But it wasn’t you who had the abortion. It was her.”