The Life List

by Lori Nelson Spielman

  He smirks in a way that makes me want to pinch it off his face. “The truth is, Sanquita was a stubborn girl. She refused to believe her mother had her best intentions in mind.”

  “Objection!” Brad cries.

  “Sustained.”

  Mr. Croft continues. “Sanquita left Detroit the very day she and her mother argued about terminating the pregnancy.”

  I’m stunned. Could this be possible?

  Mr. Croft turns to the judge’s bench. “This has nothing to do with Ms. Robinson’s home environment, Your Honor. Ms. Robinson was simply trying to save her daughter’s life.” He hangs his head. “I have no further questions.”

  My hands tremble so violently, it takes effort to fold them. They’re making Ms. Robinson out to be Sanquita’s savior … and Sanquita to be the wild child who refused to listen.

  “Thank you, Mr. Croft,” Judge Garcia says. He nods to me, indicating I can step down. “Thank you, Ms. Bohlinger.”

  “Would you like to call your next witness?” he asks Brad.

  “Your Honor, I’d like to request that we take a break.” Brad says. “My client needs a short recess.”

  Judge Garcia checks his watch, then slams down the gavel. “The court will resume after a fifteen-minute recess.”

  Brad practically drags me through the double doors and into the corridor. My body has turned to lead and I can’t think straight. My baby is being given a life sentence. I need to save her, but I’m powerless. I’m the one person Sanquita trusted. And I’m forsaking her. Brad props me up against a wall and grips my arms.

  “Don’t you dare break, B.B. We’ve done everything we can. It’s out of our hands now.”

  My breath comes out in jagged spurts and my head feels light. “He made Sanquita look like a juvenile delinquent.”

  “Could it be true?” he asks. “Is it possible she left Detroit over an argument about her health?”

  I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway. What matters now is Austin. That woman didn’t shed a tear when I described Sanquita’s final moments. And you know what she did to her son. She’s heartless, Brad!” I grab his jacket sleeve and stare into his face. “You should have seen her last week, when she was being hauled away by security. It was disgusting. We can’t do this to Austin. We’ve got to do something.”

  “We’ve done everything we can.”

  I start to cry, but Brad shakes me. “Buck up, now. You’ll have time to cry later. We need to finish this trial.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we shuffle back into the courtroom. I drop into my chair beside Brad. I’ve never felt so useless. My baby’s life is about to take a horrific detour, and I can’t do a thing about it. Garrett’s words come back to me: You can’t save them all. Just this one, I pray. Please, God, just this one.

  As I pray, I work to breathe, but my lungs won’t fill. Panic sets in. I’m going to pass out. I can’t do this. I cannot survive another loss.

  Just as the bailiff pulls shut the double door in the back, I hear her voice. My head snaps to attention and I spin around. Jean Anderson lumbers down the aisle, dressed in a smart wool suit. But the back of her hair is matted, and she’s wearing sneakers instead of her usual pumps.

  “Jean?” I say aloud. I turn to Brad.

  “Just sit tight,” he whispers.

  Instead of scooting into one of the pews, Jean marches directly up to the judge’s bench. She whispers something to Judge Garcia, and he mumbles something in return. Then she takes a paper from her purse and hands it to him. He puts on his reading glasses and examines it. Finally, he looks up.

  “Will the counsel please approach the bench?”

  The four of them mumble for what seems an interminable length of time. I hear Mr. Croft above the others, and the judge telling him to lower his voice. When they finally return to their seats, Brad and Jean are smiling. I warn myself not to get excited.

  Judge Garcia holds the paper aloft for all to see. “It appears Ms. Bell put her request in writing, after all. We have a notarized statement dated March fifth, several weeks prior to her death.” He clears his throat and reads aloud in a monotonous voice. “I, Sanquita Jahzmen Bell, being of sound mind, do hereby declare my intentions for my unborn child, should he or she outlive me. It is my heartfelt desire that Ms. Brett Bohlinger, my best friend and my homebound teacher, get sole custody of my child.” He takes off his glasses. “It’s signed, Sanquita Jahzmen Bell.” He clears his throat.

  “In light of this notarized request, I’m granting temporary custody to Ms. Bohlinger until adoption procedures are finalized.” He slaps the gavel on his desk. “This court is adjourned.”

  I drop my head into my hands and sob.

  I never ask Jean about the notarized paper. I don’t want to know how she got it, or when. It doesn’t matter. We’ve done right by Sanquita and her baby. That’s all that matters. Brad suggests we three celebrate after the hearing, but I can’t. I head straight to the hospital to see my baby. My baby! I round the corner and scurry down the hall. The doors to the neonatal unit open and I practically sprint to room seven. I enter and my heart skips a beat.

  Dressed in khakis and a navy sports coat, Herbert sits in a rocking chair, with Austin in his arms. He’s smiling down at her, watching her sleep. I come up behind him and kiss his neck.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Congratulations, love,” he says. “I came here as soon as I got your message. I knew you’d be right behind me.”

  “But who let you in?”

  “Nurse LaDonna.”

  Of course she did. Every nurse in the unit is half in love with the incredible, gift-giving Herbert—and now that they’ve laid eyes on him, there will be no going back.

  “Since you’re now Austin’s custodial parent,” Herbert continues, “you’re allowed one support person. You don’t mind, do you?”

  I push away thoughts of Shelley, or Carrie, or Brad, and stare down at my beautiful daughter. I wrap myself in a hug. “I can’t believe it, Herbert. I’m a mother!”

  “And a fine one you’ll be.” He rises and holds out the sleeping bundle to me. “Have a seat. Perhaps you want to properly introduce yourself to this little one.”

  Austin punches a fist into the air before settling back to sleep against my chest. Her eyes are at half-mast and I plant a kiss on her nose—a nose free of oxygen and feeding tubes. “Hey there, pretty girl. Guess what? I’m going to be your mommy. And this time I promise.” Her eyebrows furrow, and I smile through tears. “What did I do to deserve you?”

  With his camera poised before him, Herbert moves in to get a close-up. The camera seems intrusive at this moment of intimacy. But he’s excited, and what more could I hope for than this kind of enthusiasm and support?

  He retrieves sandwiches and coffee from the cafeteria, and we stay with Austin until visiting hours end. Strangely, it’s easier to leave tonight, knowing she’s mine. I’m not going to lose her, now or ever. As we walk to the elevator, Herbert stops suddenly and snaps his finger. “Forgot my coat. Be right back.”

  He returns—with a khaki Burberry trench coat draped over his arm.

  I gasp. “That coat!” I say, staring at it as if it were a magician’s cape.

  He looks embarrassed. “Yes, well, it was a bit nippy this morning.”

  I laugh and shake my head. He’s not the man from Andrew’s building, the man I saw on the train, or on the jogging path. But maybe, just maybe, he’s my Burberry man.

  The April evening is warm, and the sweet smell of lilacs tints the air. To the east, a moon as slender as a fingernail clipping hangs low in the slate-colored sky. Herbert walks with me to my car, his Burberry coat slung over his shoulder.

  “If she continues to thrive, she could come home within the next two weeks. I’ve got so much to do to get ready. I’ve asked for a leave of absence from work. School’s going to be out in a few weeks and Eve said she’d substitute for me. I need to get the bedroom ready, a rug and s
ome baby furniture. I’m thinking just a bassinet and changing table for now, since that’s about all that’ll fit in our tiny bedroom.” I laugh. “And I thought—”

  He turns to me and places his index finger on my lips. “Stop. I’m hearing too much about what you have to do. You and I are partners. Let me help you.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me. It’s what I want.” He takes me by the arms and gazes into my eyes. “I love you. Do you realize that?”

  I stare up at him. “I do.”

  “And if I am to believe what you’ve been professing, you love me, too.”

  I take a step back. “Uh-huh.”

  “Let’s revisit this life list you’re expected to complete.”

  I shake my head and turn away, but he moves closer. “Look, it doesn’t scare me, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I want to help. You should consider each and every one of those goals accomplished, do you understand?”

  Before I can answer, he takes my hands in his. “I realize we’ve only known each other a short time, but given the fact that you now have a child, as well as the fact that I am completely, head-over-heels in love with you, I think we should consider marriage.”

  I gasp. “You mean … you want …?”

  He chuckles, and gestures at the parking lot. “Don’t worry, darling. I would never choose such an unworthy backdrop for an official proposal. I just want to plant the seed. I’d like you to mull it over, start thinking of us as a couple—a permanent couple—sometime down the road.” He grins. “And I’d prefer it be an expressway rather than a meandering country lane.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come.

  He reaches out and touches my cheek. “I know it sounds crazy, but from the moment I met you, that very first night at Jay’s, I knew you’d be my wife someday.”

  “You did?” My thoughts immediately turn to my mother. Is she responsible, in some way, for this man falling in love with me?

  “I did.” He smiles and kisses the tip of my nose. “But the last thing I want is to pressure you. Just promise me you’ll think about it, won’t you?”

  His thick hair is mussed, and his eyes are like two sparkling sapphires. When he smiles, it’s as if a lily has bloomed. This man is the closest to perfection I’ll ever find. He’s smart and kind, ambitious and loving. My God, he even plays the violin! And for some crazy reason, he loves me. And best of all, he loves my daughter.

  “Yes,” I say. “Of course I’ll think about it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Gray clouds spritz a fine mist into the warm May air. Carrying my red umbrella, I sprint down my porch steps clutching Rudy’s leash. Like a child of divorced parents, my poor dog has been shuttled back and forth between my apartment and Selina and Blanca’s for the past six weeks. Lucky for me, my wonderful neighbors love the silly mutt as much as I do. But this weekend they’re at a marching band competition in Springfield, so Rudy and I pile into the car and head to Brad’s house.

  “This will be the last time I abandon you, Rudy boy,” I tell him as we travel north to Bucktown. “Tomorrow our baby’s coming home.”

  Brad has coffee and warm poppy-seed muffins waiting when I arrive at his duplex. I sit at his kitchen table and, beneath a bowl of strawberries, spy two pink envelopes. Since Judge Garcia’s decision, I’ve been expecting goal number one, but when I see the second envelope for goal number seventeen, FALL IN LOVE, my pulse quickens.

  Brad sits down across from me. “Want these now, or after breakfast?”

  “Now, please,” I say, hiding behind my coffee cup. “But just envelope number one today.”

  He chuckles. “You said you’re talking marriage now. That means you’re in love, right?”

  I pluck a strawberry from the bowl and study it. “I just want to spread them out a bit. There aren’t many left.”

  He gives me a sidelong glance.

  I thrust the first envelope at him. “Go on, open it.”

  He waits a beat, then slices the seam of envelope one with his finger. Before he has time to realize he’s missing them, I go to the end table and fetch his glasses. He smiles at me.

  “We’re a pretty good team, huh?”

  “The best,” I say, and feel a small tug on my heartstrings. Could we have been a team, if our timing had been different? God, how awful of me to even consider what-ifs. I’m practically engaged to Herbert!

  “ ‘Dear Brett,

  “ ‘Someone once asked Michelangelo how he was able to create the amazing statue of David. He replied, “I didn’t create David. He was there all along, in that massive block of marble. I just had to chip away to find him.”

  “ ‘Like Michelangelo, I hope I’ve helped find you these last months—that I’ve chipped away at that hard exterior until the real you emerged. You’re a mother, darling! I believe that nurturing, caring woman was in you all along, and I’m thrilled to have had a role in finding her.

  “ ‘I believe motherhood will be the seminal event in your life. You will find it in turns gratifying, frustrating, amazing, and overwhelming. It will be the most marvelous, challenging, vital role you’ll ever play.

  “ ‘Someone once told me, “As mothers, our job is not to raise children, but to raise adults.” I am confident your child will become a fine adult under your careful sculpting. And at some time or another, take a moment to imagine a world where, instead of teaching our children to be strong, we teach them to be gentle.

  “ ‘Now dry your eyes and smile. What a lucky child you have. If there’s a heaven where I’m going, and if I’m entrusted with a pair of wings, I promise to watch over her and keep her safe.

  “ ‘I love you both more than I can ever express.

  “ ‘Mom.’ ”

  Brad takes my soggy napkin and replaces it with a fresh tissue. Then he rests his hand on my back while I sob.

  “I wish Austin could have known her.”

  “She will,” Brad says. And he’s right. She’ll know my mother and hers, I’ll make sure of it.

  I blow my nose and look up at him. “She knew I’d have a daughter. Did you catch that?” I pull the letter from his hand and find the line. “Right here,” I say, pointing. “ ‘I’ll watch over her and keep her safe.’ How did she know that?”

  He studies the letter. “I’m guessing that was inadvertent. She didn’t mean to specify a gender.”

  I shake my head. “No. She knew it. She knew I would have a baby girl. And I believe she helped me get Austin Elizabeth. She softened Jean’s heart.”

  “Whatever you say.” He sets the letter aside and reaches for his coffee cup. “Do you think she’d be happy about your relationship with Herbert?”

  For some reason, my heart stammers. “Absolutely.” Rudy comes up beside me and I scratch his chin. “Herbert’s exactly the kind of guy my mother would want for me. Why would you ask?”

  He shrugs. “Oh, I just … I …” He shakes his head. “Look, I’ve only met Doctor Moyer once. You know him better than I do.”

  “That’s right, I do. And he’s awesome.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that. I just …” His voice trails off.

  “Look, Midar, if you have something to say, spit it out.”

  He looks me in the eye. “I just wonder if awesome is enough.”

  My God, he sees it. The tiny ripple in my gorgeous glass pond. The one I’ve been ignoring, hoping time will smooth out. I haven’t told anyone—not even Shelley or Carrie. Because someday soon that ripple will fade, and once it does, I don’t want anyone to doubt my love for him. I can—and I will—love Herbert.

  “What are you implying?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

  He pushes aside the bowl of berries and leans in. “Are you happy, B.B.? I mean wigged-out, over-the-moon happy?”

  I walk to the sink and rinse my cup. Along with Herbert, I think of every good thing in my life. Austin, and my job, my new friends and family …

  I turn to him
and smile. “You have no idea.”

  He studies me for a moment before finally throwing up his hands. “Okay then. It’s settled. I’m sorry I ever doubted it. Herbert’s the guy.”

  The following morning, Sunday the sixth of May, weighing in at four pounds, twelve ounces and wearing a pink layette from her aunt Catherine, Austin comes home. Herbert put up a ferocious battle, insisting the baby and I move back to Astor Street, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Pilsen is our home for now, and besides, Selina and Blanca would be heartbroken. They’ve been gushing over Austin’s pictures for the past month, buying her little sneakers and stuffed animals. Deserting them now is out of the question.

  Herbert snaps pictures all the way down the hospital hallway and into the car. We giggle, struggling to get her miniature body strapped into her car seat. She looks lost in the plastic contraption, so I prop blankets around her to keep her from tipping.

  “Are you certain this car seat is the right size?” Herbert asks.

  “Yes. The hospital inspected it, and believe it or not, it’s the size for her.”

  He looks skeptical but closes the door anyway before rushing over to my side to help me settle in beside her. He extends the seat belt and reaches over me to latch it, as if I’m the second child.

  “Herbert, please. You’re allowed to spoil the baby, not me.”

  “I beg to differ. I intend to spoil both my girls.”

  I loosen my seat belt strap, feeling suddenly cramped and caged. It touches me, his concern for Austin, but his devotion to me still feels overwhelming at times. I reach out to close the door. But Herbert has already closed it for me. I feel my blood pressure rise, and silently chastise myself. I’m the one with issues, not him.

  When I enter my little apartment with my baby in my arms, I feel my mother’s presence so deeply I want to call out to her. She’d love this moment, this baby, this woman I’ve become. She’d greet me with a kiss, then lean in to better see the baby, taking her from me as quickly as I’d allow it.

  “Where would you like me to put this?”

  I turn to see Herbert, holding the hospital bag aloft. He shouldn’t be here. This scene belongs to my mom and Austin and me. He has invaded our special moment.