Maternal Harbor

by Marie F. Martin

  Goose bumps tightened her skin. She remembered the click of the lock on the door of her childhood room – a faint slip of metal and then a light thunk as the lock settled into place. The sound repeated each morning from her earliest memory. The kiss goodbye from her father and mother was shortly followed by Lolita turning the key. The sound of the nanny’s footsteps would fade and not return until late afternoon.

  On her fourth birthday, Teagan pushed her play table to the window and climbed up. A big branch pressed small limbs and reddish green leaves against the glass. She spotted small black and white birds playing in the branches. She giggled. They had little black hats on their heads and white bibs.

  Daily, she’d sit with her palms and nose against the glass, waiting for the birds to arrive. One day, she fiddled with the lock on the window ledge. It released. She pressed her palms on the glass and pushed upwards. The window opened. She let go. It slid back down. She pushed again and held it up. The unconstrained leaves reached in, tickling her tummy. Finally, the birds flitted around the corner of the house and lit in the tree. They hopped and chittered. She spoke to them. They flew away, but came back. Gradually, they became her friends, her simple little friends who had grown used to her.

  And a year later taught her to fly.

  She recalled the day she followed their chirps out onto the tree limb. Felt again the rough bark gouging her flesh when she shinnied for freedom, felt the terror that Lolita would catch her. She followed the birds to the bay and stopped to touch the water that had lain beyond her reach for so long.

  Lolita found her there, wet and dirty. “Teagan! You scared me half to death.”

  Teagan backed away.

  Lolita extended her hand, palm up. “Come with me. You cannot be here alone.”

  “I want to play by the water.”

  “Well, you can’t. Your parents will have a fit. Look at you. You’re all muddy.”

  Teagan stiffened arms tight to her sides, chin down, and not a tear in her eye to hide the defiance. “I will not stay in my room anymore.”

  “That is how I keep you safe. I cannot cook, clean and watch you at the same time. Your mother expects too much.”

  “I won’t stay in there.”

  “I’ll nail the window shut.”

  “My dad won’t like nails pounded in the wood.”

  And so their pact of never tell, never trust began; the locking key ended. From then on, Teagan was sent out in the mornings, not to return until the big hand on Lolita’s old pocket watch pointed straight up and the little hand pointed at the four. The hours alone were spent learning ways to fend for herself on the waterfront of Puget Sound. The independence followed her into the first grade, never to leave.

  Charlie released Teagan’s nipple, and she patted his back. He spit up a little on her shoulder. She sponged it off with a diaper wipe, and then changed him. Glancing at her watch, she was surprised at the hour and she hadn’t even begun working on the receipts and billing. “Charlie, where does the time go? Pai will be at our place before us.” She rubbed his tiny chest and tickled his chin. “But we can take the work home. We might as well get used to it. Looks like billing will be a home job now.”

  Charlie studied her as if he knew what she said.

  In a rush not to leave Pai waiting by her door, Teagan fought to release Charlie’s car seat. Finally, it clicked open. She grabbed it, slung the diaper bag on her shoulder and hurried for her condo.

  In the elevator, she pushed the third floor button. This time the small space and jerk into motion didn’t bother her. She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, listening to the clunks and hum of the elevator’s rising, trying not be impatient. As soon as the door opened, she saw Pai leaning against the door, holding Jimmy in his carrier with both hands, looking miffed.

  Teagan set Charlie’s infant seat down and dug in her purse for her key. “You know, Pai, cave women had it all over us. They just killed an animal, skinned it, wrapped up their kid and slung them on their backs.”

  “It was your idea to get together. I’m scared standing in the hall where anybody could . . .” Her words trickled away as the elevator opened and a man stepped off. Grinning at the babies, he walked by without comment. As soon as he passed, Pai hissed, “Open the stupid door.”

  Teagan twisted the knob.

  Pai brushed inside. She needed to slow down and get a hold of herself. Teagan forgave the bump, carried Charlie through, flipped the deadbolt, rattled the chain lock on to its glide, and declared, “I’m beat.”

  A smile traced along Pai’s lips. “I am too.”

  Teagan led the way into the nursery, laid Charlie in his crib, and cleared a spot at the other end for Jimmy.

  Pai tucked her baby in and stepped back. “Aren’t they cute? Maybe we should climb in, too. I could sleep for a month.”

  Teagan doubted if sleep would cure trouble in Pai’s eyes. “I have some new mint tea. We need a cup.”

  In a kitchen alcove, a round cherry-wood table sat in front of a large window, and Pai landed on one of its padded chairs like a swan finding a wildlife refuge.

  Teagan turned on the burner under the copper tea kettle and gathered mugs from a rack. She took extra time, giving Pai a chance to relax. A minty scent drifted from the brewing tea as Teagan placed the mugs on the table.

  Pai steeped her bag. The small dips slowed and stopped as though those small movements were too much. Her hands rested on the table top, limply curled.

  Teagan hoisted her bag from her cup and squeezed it. She wanted to pry the lid off Pai’s box of worries so they could figure out what caused them, instead she said. “An old crone wandered into my shop. She wanted to trade some fresh tea from China for a piece of sea bass. She was stooped, wrinkled, and smelled like the freshest mint. I think she grew it and bagged it herself.”

  Pai studied the bag for a long minute. “Doesn’t look homemade to me.” She breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “Something, or someone, is watching me. There’s this black truck . . . .”

  Teagan’s skin tightened.

  “I’m afraid.” Blinking back tears, Pai laid her head in her arms.

  Teagan clasped Pai’s hand. “This is important. Tell me about the truck.”

  Pai lifted her head. Her silky black hair shimmered with the motion, before the short pageboy settled into place, framing her delicate, drawn features. “Now you are the one who sounds scared.”

  “I want to know about the flippin’ truck.”

  Pai threw her hands up. “They all look alike. They’re evil.”

  Teagan wanted to shake her. “Black trucks aren’t evil. Was it a pickup or an SUV?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “I was followed by a black Blazer this morning.”

  “Are you making that up? If you are, I think I’m mad at you.” Pai rose. She bumped the cup handle, and tea spilled across the table.

  Teagan grabbed a dish towel and mopped up the brown liquid. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Pai lowered her eyes. “I’ll go.”

  “Pai, look at me. I did not lie about the Blazer.”

  Pai’s eyes questioned, her lips were parted, like she needed extra air. She sat back down.

  “I was scared too,” Teagan said softly. “It stayed right on my bumper all the way to the market and even slowed down to see where I parked. Pete did a pretty good job of reassuring me, told me to call him if I see it again. At least I have him. You really need someone to stay with you till Duffy gets home. Please phone your mother.”

  “She disowned me when I married Duffy.” She tilted her chin upwards. “Shocked you a little, huh?”

  “Not so much. Disowning would be better than forgetting. At least anger is real.”

  “Your Mom forgot you?”

  “I hope you told your doctor about how nervous and scared you’ve been.”

  A puzzled frown wrinkled Pai’s flawless brow. “Why would he care?”

  “You might be expe
riencing baby blues.”

  “Someone watching me isn’t postpartum depression. I felt this way before Jimmy was born. In fact, Duffy left his revolver with me, but I still don’t feel safe.”

  “Will you make some egg rolls if you stay here with me for a while?” Teagan didn’t know where her offer came from, loner that she was, but she meant it.

  Pai blinked. Doubt clouded her almond-shaped eyes.

  “My place is small,” Teagan continued. “But if you want to stay until you’re stronger, it’s okay.”

  “I’m not weak.”

  Teagan exhaled. “I am. I’m weak from worrying about you. Please stay. It’s better to stick together.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Teagan stood and hugged Pai’s shoulders. “Go home and pack some things. Jimmy is fast asleep. Hurry and he’ll never know you were gone.”

  Chapter 11

  Erica staked out Pai’s apartment from a pocket in a thicket of blackberry canes and morning glory vines which clung to the top of a bramble-filled ravine. Not only could she see the sliding glass doors two stories up, but she also had a clear view of the parking lot. She’d spent hours of surveillance tucked away in this hiding place and learned Pai mostly stayed home, visitors seldom knocked on her door, and her husband spent months at sea – all important elements in finding perfect playmates for Derek. And Pai was the right race. That had been high on the list. Still was – the only difference was the boys would visit Derek where he now played.

  Erica licked her lips and tasted salt. Sweat prickled under the band in her uniform hat. The Indian summer contained the warmth of an August day. Bees worked at a few dried berries and her uniform sleeve. She exhaled and shifted her weight to her left leg. Dust coated the toe of her boot, and she rubbed it on the back of her leg. She wobbled, but caught her balance, hating her weakness. Damn that knife. It’s horrible blade hacked away Derek and her strength.

  She pulled her glove from her right hand, picked a few of the berries and tossed them into her mouth, tasting the overripe fermentation--almost rotted. The juice slid down her throat and joined the decay she tasted constantly.

  A blue Honda came down the road and parked in the residents’ lot. Erica’s muscles tensed, every sense zeroed in on the driver.

  Pai stepped out and locked the door. Why didn’t she open the passenger side to remove an infant seat?

  Where was Jimmy?

  “He must be inside with a babysitter,” Erica muttered.

  Pai stood with her hand on the car door and stared in all directions as if searching for some hidden thing. Erica stopped herself from looking over her shoulder to the place Pai studied and shrunk deeper into the bushes.

  Suddenly Pai ran for the apartment, dashed up the stairwell and disappeared into the building. A few moments later, she stood behind a set of plate glass doors, immobile and staring.

  Erica felt the rake of Pai’s pupils, the secretive Asian pupils that never let anyone inside, always wary. She cursed silently. Waiting to make her move wore at her nerves. She sunk her fingernails into the flesh of her scalp, wanting pain to sharpen, to call her attention to what she must do to keep her from slipping to where Derek cried.

  Why hasn’t the babysitter been dismissed?

  “Iska, I can handle Pai and some nanny,” Erica spoke the cat’s name as if it was it was still alive and next to her, not dead and buried under her marigolds.

  Pai moved from view.

  Erica pulled on her calf-skin glove over her berry-stained fingers and ducked from the bushes. She glanced again at Pai’s sliding doors and detected movement behind the glass.

  She’s checking again.

  “I know, Iska, I know.” Erica lengthened her stride and crossed quickly behind the buildings to her right. She circled around them to the stairway side of the apartments and hurried to Pai’s building. She ran the steps and pounded on the door.

  “Come on, open up,” she muttered under her breath. She pounded again. Finally, the door cracked, but the chain remained hooked.

  “Pai, it’s only me.”

  Pai opened the door a tad more. “I didn’t recognize you. Are you a cop?”

  Erica turned her lips down in sorrow and softened her eyes. “I was afraid to. People hesitate to make friends with us.”

  “Look Erica, I’m in a hurry and can’t visit now.”

  “I came to see Jimmy.” Erica added sadness to her tone. “My house is so lonesome now.” She smiled pleasantly, stood with weight on her right side and arms relaxed.

  Pai’s expression mellowed, and she loosened the chain. “We can talk, but only for a minute. I really have to go.”

  “I won’t stay long. Everything is just too much.” Erica let her bottom lip tremble while she assessed Pai’s stretch top and tight jeans, her dark coloring and tiny waist. Diamond chips sparkled in dainty earlobes and gold rings encircled delicate curving fingers with highly polished nails. Envy gnawed at Erica.

  “I’m sorry you lost your baby,” Pai said.

  How dare you, Erica thought. “My son isn’t lost. He’s in the Peaceful Place.”

  Pai leaned back a little. “Many babies are there.” Her singsong voice quavered.

  What do you know about empty arms? Erica stilled the screaming words and smiled. “Is something wrong?”

  Pai withdrew farther into the room and spoke quietly. “Teagan says I worry too much.”

  “Jimmy is well? Where is the nanny?”

  “I have no sitter. Why?”

  Erica closed the door and stood in front of it, noting two suitcases sitting in the hall. “I must see the boy.”

  “I never realized how tall you are. It must be your uniform. I still can’t believe you’re a policewoman.” Pai licked her bottom lip. “I would’ve never guessed.”

  Erica controlled her need to mash the delicate meek face. A son for someone like that, and not me, it wasn’t right.

  “But forgive me.” Pai gestured to the dining area. “I’m impolite; please come sit at the table. I’ll brew some tea.” Pai crossed to the counter separating the kitchen from the living room and stood near a statue of Buddha.

  “Let me say hello to Jimmy, and I’ll leave.” Erica moved into position to watch for any weapon Pai might grab. A carving knife lay on a butcher block−such a futile weapon. She smiled and leaned against the end of the cupboard, portraying complete ease and friendliness, blocking any escape.

  Pai lifted tea from a tin. The dangling bag waggled as she tried to place it into a mug.

  “Sorry I make you nervous,” Erica said. “But Derek wants Jimmy to come and play.”

  Pai jutted her chin high, pretending calm. The terror in her pupils remained. She let go of the cup and rubbed the Buddha’s belly. “Want to rub for good luck?” Her hand rested on the counter near the knife.

  Erica continued like Pai’s words were nothing. “There’s a Peaceful Place where…”

  Pai shot a look at the door.

  Erica stretched her arm across the passageway from the kitchen and leaned with her hand on the wall.

  “You need help,” Pai said. “Please let me call someone for you.”

  “The offer dumbfounded Erica. “I help others.” She drew herself up. “Don’t try and confuse me. Derek only wants Jimmy.”

  Pai’s lithe body coiled and she snatched the knife. Double-fisted, she held the blade like a rhino ready to defend. She exhaled in short huffs and charged, blade extended; a horn eager to impale.

  Erica sidestepped and chopped Pai’s windpipe. Flesh and bone buckled.

  Pai crashed to the floor, gasping for air, unable to move, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, fingers clinging to the knife.

  Erica dashed down the hallway, flinging each door open; their bang against sheetrock walls muted. The nursery was empty.

  Where’s Jimmy!

  “No,” she screamed and darted back to the living room.

  Pai clutched her throat and tried to rise. She snaked for the d
oor.

  “I want Jimmy, now!” Erica reached down and snatched Pai’s fine-boned foot. The narrow heel wrinkled strangely from the pressure. So easily the bones would break, as easily as the kittens drown. She dropped the foot.

  Pai instantly curled into a fetal position. The knife clasped in her hands.

  Legs wide, Erica stood over her. “I can crush you like a fly,” she whispered. “Derek needs Jimmy.”

  Fuzz from the carpet irritated Pai’s nose and she sneezed.

  “Bless you,” Erica said.

  Pai suddenly coiled to her knees, and leaping upward, drove the knife at Erica. The blade hit the body armor and bounced away. Quickly, before Pai could strike again, Erica doubled her fists together and smashed Pai in the face; blood spurted from her nose and lips; she crumpled like an origami swan. Erica stomped her foot on Pai’s hand and mashed with the heel. Bones snapped. Erica kicked the knife away.

  Grabbing a fistful of Pai’s hair, Erica yanked her head up. “Stupid mother, you could’ve had more babies. What’s one little boy for Derek?”

  She cupped her right hand around Pai’s chin and applied the required pressure and speed to break the neck; the pressure derived from well-trained muscles, the speed from no hesitation of remorse. She held the head until the tremors slowed. The body twitched again; left foot jumped. Finally, life released and the body grew still, fear stench lessened and evaporated.

  “That’s the quickest way,” Erica murmured and let the black silky hair slip through her gloved fingers as Pai slid to the floor. She stepped across the body, strong in the surge of adrenalin it took to kill. Suddenly her knees weakened and her extremities shook, as bad as when the kittens were pulled from the water. Unable to contain the trembling, Erica fell down onto a chair and waited for calm to return, for her mind to clear.

  She had killed.

  No turning back.

  Not ever.

  And she didn’t care.

  Find Jimmy.

  Erica strode to the nursery and crossed to the empty crib. She ran her hand across the sheet. Her hand vibrated, almost sensed the warmth of the baby. “Little boy, I’ll find you.” She lifted the teddy bear from the foot of the crib and clutched it in her arms for the briefest moment. Yanking drawers open, she dumped more things into the case, adding the bear last. Jimmy would need him.