“One way to find out. Get a wash cloth from the bathroom.” Papi unsnapped the baby’s sleeper and deftly removed her diaper.
Gabe sighed and trudged into the bathroom. He might have known Papi wouldn’t fall for the marking pen bit. But, feeling trapped and desperate, Gabe thought it was worth a shot.
Papi scrubbed at the blue rose, first with warm water, then with soap. The baby screeched in outrage, but the birthmark remained unaltered. Papi dressed her quickly and thrust her into Gabe’s arms. “Your child is upset. Do something.”
Brows furrowed in dismay, Gabe held the screaming baby and watched as his father settled himself at the table and calmly resumed reading the paper. Gabe sank into a chair, cradled the baby in his arms and gently rocked her back and forth. He whispered, “Shhh, baby, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
From behind his newspaper, Papi said, “Her name is Birdie . . . unless you can come up with something better.”
Gabe shrugged. “Birdie’s fine.” After all, when the diapers ran out, the name wouldn’t matter. The kid would be history.
As if he could read Gabe’s mind, Papi lowered his paper. “I believe your school has a child care facility. Is that correct?”
Gabe’s mouth dropped open. Did Papi really expect him to haul the kid to school every day? To Ho Hall? That’s what Gabe and his buddies called the little building at the back of the campus. When they spotted a teen mom pushing a stroller across the courtyard, one of the group would say, “There goes another ho, heading for Ho Hall,” and they’d all crack up laughing.
“Get serious,” Gabe said. “How can I take care of a kid? It’s my senior year. Basketball starts next week. We’ve got a chance to make it to the state tournament.”
Papi just stared at him without saying a word. A tight band of fear snaked around Gabe’s chest and squeezed. He gulped in air and tried another tactic. “The baby would need a birth certificate and medical records and stuff like that. Come on, Dad, think about it. We don’t even know if she’s had her parvo and distemper shots.”
A rare smile bloomed on Papi’s face. “Gabriel. Parvo and distemper shots are for puppies. Don’t worry about it. Pablo will take care of the vaccinations and Simon can dummy up a birth certificate.”
Gabe ripped a handful of paper towels from the holder and mopped his forehead. Geez, Papi had thought of everything. Uncle Pablo, aka Dr. Paul Delgado, was Papi’s brother, a successful pediatrician. Brother Simon had great aptitude for producing fake documents on his computer.
Still clutching the baby, who’d fallen fast asleep, Gabe pushed away from the table and stood. “No way! I can’t do it.”
“You should have thought of that before you began spreading your seed.”
“But I used a rubber. Every time.” He raked his fingers through his hair. Rubbers break, idiot.
Why that particular thought? Why now?
“Did you make a list of all the girls like I told you to?” Papi asked.
Gabe nodded. “No redheads. I’m not attracted to redheads.”
“Thank God for small blessings,” Papi mumbled. “No matter. Remember Mendel and the peas? Recessive genes? Somebody in Birdie’s gene pool had red hair. Maybe even a Delgado, but I doubt it. After all, we’re descended from . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gabe interrupted. “The Spanish royal family.”
Gabe and his brothers had suffered through Papi’s version of Delgado family history about a bajillion times. Their father insisted the blue rose on their butts was the mark of royalty, proof that the Delgados were destined for greatness. Each and every time, the boys listened politely and tried not to smirk or roll their eyes until after their father left the room.
Papi shook his finger at Gabe. “I know you doubt me, but this baby is here for a reason. We just need to figure out what it is.”
Gabe tried to hold onto his temper. Unsuccessfully. “You need a reason? I’ll give you a reason. It wasn’t enough I spent the summer with Aunt Lorena in Michoacán, milking goats and riding a girl’s bike into the village to buy corn meal. Oh, no! I’m still being punished. ’Cause now I get to spend my senior year trying to get good grades, win basketball games, and take care of a kid who screams all night.”
Papi stood and folded his newspaper into precise thirds. Before he walked out of the kitchen, he leaned over, kissed the top of the baby’s head, and patted Gabe’s shoulder. “It will make a man out of you, son.”
Gabe set the sleeping baby in the middle of the table. She should be safe there. He was pretty sure she was too little to roll over. He reached for the phone and tried to think who he could call this early in the morning. He really needed to talk to somebody other than his family. But who?
Kevin, who’d been his friend since kindergarten? Nah, Kev would just laugh his ass off. Trevor Lombard? He was a good listener, but he was also a big blabbermouth. He would text everybody in Maple Grove within an hour of hearing the news. Gabe rested his elbows on the counter top and stared out at the rain lashing the window, mentally going through his list of friends and, in the end, rejecting all of them for one reason or another. Even though it was almost seven, it was as black as pitch outside. No sign of dawn. Gabe sighed. Sounded like a metaphor for his life.
A light flashed on in the house next door and Abby Templeton, dressed in her pajamas, rounded the corner of the house lugging a bag of garbage. Abby. She’d be perfect. A couple of years younger than Gabe, she didn’t hang with anyone from his dating pool or circle of friends. And, she was a little on the shy side. Hopefully, that meant she could keep her mouth shut. As a bonus, she took care of a neighbor’s kid during the summer, so she must know all about babies.
Gabe flipped on the yard light and threw the back door open. “Hey, Abby! Can you come over a sec?”
Abby stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him for a full minute before replying, “Eh?”
Abby and her mother, Luanne, were Canadian and, as such, had a few peculiarities. Their fondness for the word eh was but one example.
Apparently, Abby realized her response wasn’t adequate and said, “Hi, Gabe. What are you doing up so early . . . in your underwear?”
“Oh, this and that,” Gabe said. “Come on over.”
“Maybe I should get dressed first,” she said. “Maybe you should, too.”
“No, no, that’s okay. It won’t take long. Better hurry up. You’re getting soaked.”
Abby slung the bag of garbage into the bin and hurried through the gate connecting their back yards. Gabe stepped back inside, trying not to grin when she squished through the door in her giant bunny slippers.
The bunnies came to a screeching halt in the middle of the kitchen. Abby said, “There’s a baby on your table.”
“Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” Gabe said. He glanced over at the table, shocked to see Birdie was now lying on her stomach, dangerously close to the edge. The baby spotted Gabe and her face lit up in a huge, toothless smile. She slapped the table with both hands, said, “Gah!” and then arched her back and rolled.
With Abby’s scream of horror echoing through the kitchen, three things happened simultaneously. Gabe dove for the baby. His head struck the edge of the table. And Birdie vanished into thin air.
Chapter Three
SPRAWLED ON THE floor, Gabe groaned and tried to see through the river of blood streaming from the gash in his forehead. He heard Abby saying, “Oh my God! Oh my God,” and saw her bunny slippers scampering to and fro as if they’d come alive and were chasing each other around the kitchen. A few seconds later, she crouched next to him and pressed a wet dishtowel against his forehead. Her face was so pale, the freckles on her cheeks looked like stars dotting the night sky.
“Gabe,” she whispered. “The baby’s gone. No, that can’t be. I thought
I saw a baby, but maybe I’m wrong. There wasn’t a baby here . . . right?”
Birdie was gone? Gabe struggled to a sitting position just as Papi burst through the swinging door. He scanned the room, grimacing when he saw Gabe. “Son, what happened? Where’s Birdie?”
Abby jumped up. “Something weird is going on, Mr. Delgado. Just a few seconds ago, I thought I saw a baby on the table. She started to roll off. Gabe tried to catch her and hit his head, and then . . .” Her voice, growing more high-pitched with each word, faded into silence or a perhaps a sound only perceived by dogs.
Still holding the cloth to his head, Gabe grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself upright. Fighting waves of dizziness and growing panic, he croaked, “This is stupid! She has to be here. Babies don’t go poof and disappear. Hey, I bet she rolled into the pantry. The door’s open.”
Papi strode into the pantry. He flipped on the light and carefully checked every corner, even moving a bag of potatoes and the re-cycling bin. “No baby in here.”
Abby and Gabe stared at each other in disbelief. Abby said, “What about the back door? Maybe she got outside somehow and the wind blew the door shut.”
Even though he knew he was grasping at straws, Gabe shuffled to the back door, flung it open and gazed around. No baby. Gabe slammed the door and turned to face the others. “This sucks!”
“Maybe we should call 911,” Abby said in a tiny voice.
“Are you nuts?” Gabe yelled. “And tell them what? That, last night, somebody put a kid on my front porch and now she’s gone?”
“Take it easy, Gabe,” Papi said. “She’s just trying to help.”
Gabe raised a fist and slammed it down on the counter top. He wanted to throw back his head and howl. Before he could act on the thought, Simon, wearing only pajama bottoms, popped through the swinging door with Birdie tucked under his left arm. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair stuck out in ten different directions. He snarled, “This is really lame, ya know? The kid is your responsibility, not mine. How’d you sneak her into my room anyway?”
Papi crossed himself and whispered, “Thanks be to God.”
Abby inhaled sharply and sank into a chair.
Gabe snatched Birdie out of his brother’s grasp. Without waiting for an explanation, Simon turned and headed back to bed.
Papi crossed to the table and gestured to Gabe. “Come. Sit. We must discuss what happened.”
“Discuss what happened?” Gabe checked to make sure his head had stopped bleeding and tossed the bloody cloth into the sink. He sat next to Abby. “How can you discuss the impossible?”
Papi whispered, “Magico. The baby has magic.”
Gabe held up a hand. “Uh, uh. No way! Don’t start with the magic shit.” He knew his father’s mind was totally somewhere else when he didn’t acknowledge the swear word.
“Okay, smart guy,” Papi said. “Tell me, then, how did this child vanish from the kitchen and turn up in Simon’s bedroom?”
Gabe shrugged. “You’re the engineer. You figure it out.”
“Magico,” Papi said again.
Gabe gazed at his father, thinking, I hate it when you go all old country native on me. Magico? My ass! You’re an engineer for God’s sake. Engineers work with facts and figures, not hocus-pocus horse shit! However, he knew better than to voice the words.
Abby cleared her throat. “Um, Gabe? Is this your baby?”
Papi nodded. Gabe said, “Maybe, we don’t know for sure.”
“Oh, we know for sure,” Papi said. “She has webbing between her second and third toe and a blue rose birthmark on her cute little behind, just like all the Delgados.”
“Why did you want me to come over?”
Gabe squirmed in his chair and, after a quick glance at Papi, said, “I needed someone to talk to. Someone who won’t judge me.”
“Well,” Abby said. “Since I’m kinda in the middle of this mess, do you want to know what I think?”
Gabe nodded.
“I think your dad’s right. About the magic, I mean.”
Gabe stared at her, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. “But . . .” he began.
Abby lifted a hand. “Think about it. Magic’s the only thing that makes sense. And, if she has the ability to disappear, a lot of people would want to get their hands on her, like scientists or even government agencies. She’d never have a normal life. So, maybe you were chosen. Maybe you’re supposed to keep her safe.”
“Exactly!” Papi said. “You’re one smart girl, Miss Abby.”
Abby blushed and ducked her head. “Guess I’d better get going. See ya around, Gabe.” She stood.
Gabe studied Abby’s face. Why isn’t she freaked out like I am? And Papi’s magico thing? She jumped on that explanation with both feet. Strange.
As Abby shuffled to the door, Gabe called, “Abby? I know you’re not a gossip girl, but maybe we should keep this little episode to ourselves.”
With a shy smile, Abby said, “No problem. Bye, Mr. Delgado.”
GABE WAS READY for bed by eight Saturday night, exhausted after an endless round of formula mixing, diaper changing, baby rocking, and, to top it off, searching for a cardboard box big enough to use for a baby bed. No way was the kid sleeping in his bed tonight. When he finally found a box the right size, he padded it with his old comforter and two pillows. When Papi saw it, he threw a fit.
“Pillows, Gabriel?” he said. “Do you want the child to smother?” When Gabe didn’t respond in the dramatic pause that followed, Papi said, “Well, do you?”
Gabe barely resisted the urge to say, “Oh, yeah, Dad, I want the baby to smother. That’s why I lined the box with pillows.” Instead, he gritted his teeth to hold the words back and shook his head. Papi’s habit of asking stupid trick questions and then expecting answers made Gabe and his brothers crazy. But they’d all learned it was easier, in the long run, to just roll with it.
“So.” Papi removed the pillows from the box. “We’ll pad the box with an extra quilt until we get her a proper bed. Which, by the way, we can do tomorrow after she gets her shots from Pedro.”
Or not, Gabe thought, counting the diapers left in the bag. Six. He placed the sleeping baby in the box and covered her with an afghan crocheted by his Tia Lorena in Michoacán. When he crawled into bed, his only rational thought was, Please let me sleep tonight, Baby. Daddy needs his rest.
Birdie woke him at midnight. Gabe leaned over the box and rubbed her back, trying to remember the lullaby his mother sang to Henry. The only song his foggy brain could come up with was, “Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?” Gabe patted Birdie’s back in time with the tune. After the third repetition, the baby was fast asleep. No bottle or diaper change required.
The next day, Gabe pulled the last diaper from the bag as the hall clock struck twelve noon. He looked down at the little girl lying on her back in the middle of the living room rug, dressed in Henry’s old Seattle Sounders tee shirt. When she spotted Gabe, she switched on her high-beam smile and kicked her chubby legs like she was riding a bicycle in the air. “Eeep! Gah!” she said. Gabe bit back a smile of his own. “Eeep and gah? Your first sentence, huh?”
He knelt in front of her, strangely reluctant to use the last diaper. If he gave her up, what would happen to Birdie? None of his imagined scenarios had panned out. His only choice would be to contact Child Protective Services, and the result would be foster care or adoption. His breath hitched in his chest as snippets of thoughts flashed through his mind like a slide show. His baby. No doubt about it. Big pain in the ass. No more social life. What about basketball? Birdie in foster care. What if nobody loves her? What if she really is magic? And, finally, his father’s words, “She’s a Delgado!”
Gabe rubbed his stinging eyes and carefully unfolded the diaper.
Tucked inside, was another note in the same handwriting as the first.
Gabe, you probably already know our baby is, well, different. If not, you’ll find out soon enough. Let’s just say she has certain qualities most babies don’t have. The thing is, I’m scared. I’m on my own and can’t keep her safe. But you can. You’re strong. You have a family to watch out for her. Bad people want her. That’s why I left her with you. I don’t really understand what’s going on, but it has something to do with The Abolesco. Don’t try to find me. Please, take care of our baby girl and love her. Okay?
Instead of a signature at the bottom, the baby’s mother had drawn a trail of tiny tear drops that extended to the bottom of the page. The last few were smudged, as if real tears had fallen there.
Gabe stared, unblinking, at the words until his eyes burned. The note confirmed what Papi and Abby had been trying to tell him. For some unfathomable reason, his child had come into the world with a gift. Special qualities. Magico. No matter what you called it, Gabe could only come to one conclusion. Last diaper or not, he knew the baby was meant to stay, and his job was to care for her, even though his life would never be the same.
He tucked the note in his pocket and poked Birdie in her tummy. “Don’t you go disappearing on me again. Ya hear?”
Birdie stuck her entire fist in her mouth and sucked noisily.
“Okay,” Gabe said. “Now that we’ve got that straight, let’s do the diaper bit.”
He reached for the baby wipes, remembering Papi’s three cardinal rules for diaper changing. 1. Off with the old. 2. Clean all the cracks. 3. On with the new. Papi had a fourth rule exclusively for boy babies. Cover the spout in case he squirts.
Papi came down the stairs, dressed in pressed khakis, a blue shirt, and loafers. “Ready to go see Uncle Pablo?”
Wordlessly, Gabe handed his father the note. Papi read it quickly, then frowned and stroked his chin. “Abolesco. Latin derivative, I believe.” He pulled out his Blackberry and tapped a few keys. “Hmmm,” he said. “Perish, decay, die. Second meaning—disappear, vanish.”
Baby Gone Bye Page 2