Lost Innocents

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “That doesn’t make any difference to the gossipmongers. You are living in an ivory tower if you think…Oh, forget it. All I know is, I need some sleep before I go back to work.”

  “I know,” she said. “I know you need rest. We both do.”

  “While I’m gone, you better talk to her and let her know they have got to get out of here today.”

  “All right, all right,” said Maddy. She called to Amy, “Come on, honey. Let’s go in and see Sean.”

  Amy toddled over and handed her the bouquet. Maddy took it with a distracted smile and kissed her as Doug got in the car and drove off in the direction of the auto repair shop. Maddy opened the front door and Amy went in. Maddy looked around the house in dismay. There seemed to be clutter everywhere she looked. Not that Bonnie was messy. On the contrary, she was punctilious in her habits. But two extra people in the already chaotic conditions of the last two days added up to disorder. Maddy could see that Bonnie and Sean were not downstairs.

  She got Amy settled down with a puzzle and began to tidy up. The familiar routine of housework had a soothing effect. As she threw laundry into the washing machine she realized that her guests probably had things that needed washing. If she was going to put them out on the street, a load of laundry seemed like the least she could do.

  She climbed the stairs and started down the hall to the guest room. As she approached the door she could hear Sean’s familiar fussy cry. She tapped gently on the door and Bonnie said gruffly, “What do you want?”

  Maddy pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

  The room was very neat. All of Bonnie’s belongings were clustered close by her suitcase, as if she did not intend to get comfortable here. She was sitting on the bed, reading a book. Maddy glanced at the cover and saw that it was a historical romance novel. Sean was propped up on the floor against a chair, fussing and gnawing on his fingers. Beside him on the floor was Amy’s stuffed Big Bird.

  “I was just going to do some laundry,” Maddy said. “I wondered if you had anything you’d like me to throw in.”

  Bonnie looked reluctantly at the little pile of clothes by her suitcase.

  “Maybe some of Sean’s things?” Maddy asked.

  Bonnie swung her legs off the bed and went over to pick up the suitcase. In contrast with his mother’s worn and shabby wardrobe, all of Sean’s clothes had the cheerful freshness of new clothes. Typical, Maddy thought. We always care more about how the kids are dressed than ourselves.

  Bonnie weighed a couple of pants and shirts in her hand and then, reluctantly, handed them to Maddy. “I guess if you’re washing…,” she said.

  Maddy took the clothes and wadded them up in her hands. She knew she had to tell Bonnie now about leaving. She had told Doug she would, but now that the moment was at hand, the words were difficult to say. She wondered how much of that conversation about the insurance Bonnie had overheard. No one had mentioned it again, but Maddy wondered if Bonnie would bring it up now. Threaten her, even, when Maddy asked them to leave. There was a volatile quality about Bonnie, as if something unpredictable could set her off. Don’t avoid it, Maddy told herself. Go ahead and say it and let her react however she’s going to.

  “Umm, Bonnie, there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

  Bonnie zippered the little suitcase and looked up warily.

  “I know I said you could stay as long as you need to…and I feel bad about this, but…”

  “You want us to go,” Bonnie said flatly.

  Maddy grimaced apologetically. “Doug’s gone to see about getting your car for you.”

  Bonnie replaced the suitcase carefully on the floor as if it were potentially explosive. Maddy could not see the expression on her face.

  “I don’t want you to go, really,” Maddy said hastily. “It’s just that with the baby crying at night…My husband has been out of work for a while, and he has to start back tomorrow, and he’s kind of…worried about not getting any sleep.”

  Bonnie straightened up but did not look at Maddy. For a moment Maddy had the panicky feeling that the woman was going to turn on her in a rage.

  “I’m really sorry, Bonnie,” said Maddy.

  Bonnie sat back down on the bed and regarded Sean coldly. He was still whimpering. “That’s all right. I can hardly stand it myself,” she said.

  There was no resentment toward Maddy in her tone. In fact, it was the most agreeable she had seemed. It made Maddy feel even more guilty about forcing them out. “It’s tough when they cry a lot,” Maddy agreed.

  Bonnie studied her child with a frown. “It’s hard to figure out what they want sometimes.”

  “That’s certainly true,” said Maddy, hesitating in the doorway. “It gets easier when they can talk.”

  Bonnie spoke in a dull voice. “My mother always said I would be a terrible mother. She warned me. Of course, she never thought I was good at anything. She said no one would marry me, either. That no one would want me.” She gave a brief bark of a laugh. “She didn’t know everything.”

  Maddy saw the expression of a wounded child surface briefly in the other woman’s face. Why would a mother undermine a child that way? she wondered. No wonder Bonnie seemed so defensive.

  “Well, the first year of a baby’s life is the hardest, I think. At least it was for me,” Maddy said.

  “It was hard for you?”

  “Oh gosh, yes,” said Maddy. “It’s so confusing, and so hard to know what to do.”

  “When they cry all the time it makes you feel like a failure,” said Bonnie. Her shoulders slumped, and Maddy had the urge to put an arm around her.

  “It’s just a phase,” said Maddy. “I think the best thing you can do for them is hold them a lot.”

  Bonnie looked at Sean as if this idea had not occurred to her. I’ll bet nobody held you a lot, Maddy thought, looking sadly at Bonnie. “He might be teething,” Maddy said carefully. “Amy used to cry like that. Sometimes it helps if you give them a wet washcloth to chew.”

  Bonnie tensed up, as if she were about to bristle, but then she nodded. “Maybe,” she said.

  “Let me get one,” Maddy said. Before Bonnie could protest, she walked across the hall, got a clean white washcloth out of the linen closet, and wet it under the bathroom faucet. She brought it in and handed it to Bonnie.

  “Here you go, Sean,” Bonnie cooed, but the child did not look up. Maddy wondered, not for the first time, if the boy might be deaf. He never seemed to respond when anyone called him. And it would account for his frustration. She decided not to say anything; Bonnie would surely take it as a criticism. If he was hard of hearing, they would find out soon enough.

  Bonnie bent down and started to lift him. Startled, Sean let. out an angry wail. Bonnie raised a hand as if to smack him, then immediately set him back down on the floor. “He doesn’t want it,” she said brusquely.

  Maddy felt both sorry for her embarrassment and worried about the baby. Through no fault of his own, Sean made Bonnie feel rejected.

  “He’s got a mind of his own,” Maddy said lamely.

  “He doesn’t like me,” Bonnie said, her eyes welling with tears.

  “Of course he likes you,” Maddy protested. “He loves you. You’re his mother.”

  Bonnie lifted her glasses and wiped her eyes impatiently. “Excuse me. It’s just that I’m a little…worn out,” she said.

  Maddy nodded. She could see the fatigue etched in Bonnie’s face, her dejected posture. She recognized the feeling. It was hard to cope with a fretful baby, harder still with your husband in the hospital. And now Bonnie had to try to find them a place to stay as well. That kind of fatigue could pose a danger to the baby—he didn’t know enough to give his strung-out mother some breathing room.

  Maddy hesitated in the doorway, thinking about what Doug had said—that they had to leave today. What was the big hurry? she thought. What did it matter if they stayed another day? What about simple human kindness? You had to think about that, too. �
�Look,” said Maddy. “Why don’t you take a little nap? I’ll watch Sean for a while. Amy would love to play with him. I’ll take you over to the hospital later.”

  “I have to get us a room,” Bonnie said tiredly.

  “That can wait till later,” Maddy insisted. “Your car isn’t even back yet.”

  Bonnie looked longingly at the pillow. “I am tired,” she said.

  “Here,” Maddy said firmly, reaching out and taking the wet washcloth from Bonnie’s limp hand. “You lie down for a while.”

  At Maddy’s insistence, Bonnie put her feet up on the bed and turned over. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “You’ve been nice to me.” She said it in a way that indicated few people had ever taken the trouble.

  “No problem,” said Maddy. She bent and picked up Sean from the floor. He seemed feather light compared to Amy. Sean reached for the white washcloth, still in Maddy’s hand. Maddy gave it to him, and he examined it curiously for a moment. Then he put it in his mouth and began to gnaw furiously on the cold terry cloth. Maddy turned him away, so that if Bonnie looked up, she would not notice. In her weary state of mind, she might take it as a betrayal. Although there seemed little danger of that. She lay slumped on the bed facing the wall as if she were already asleep.

  “You just rest,” Maddy said to Bonnie’s back, pulling the door shut behind her. “We’ll be fine.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Maddy turned the TV in her studio on to cartoons and gave Amy, who seemed little a listless this morning, a couple of oatmeal cookies. Sean was seated in an old rocking seat of Amy’s, still chewing on the wet rag. Maddy hoisted herself onto the stool behind the huge Formica counter that was her work space. She had a lot of glass to wrap, and this seemed as good a time any to do it. It was a process that didn’t involve a lot of concentration, which was good,considering how tired she was this morning. The kids were both pretty quiet, and the studio was peaceful. Maddy had sipped her second mug of coffee as she folded the copper wiring around the perimeter of the glass pieces she had cut for the window she was working on. Each piece of glass had to be surrounded by wire; the wire-bound pieces were then soldered together. She regarded wrapping glass as the same sort of chore that carding wool was to a weaver—one of the tedious but necessary chores of her craft.

  Amy giggled as her favorite TV cartoon cat chased a mouse for whom he was no match. Chewing and rocking energetically in the the chair, Sean seemed utterly disinterested in television. Maddy wondered, once again, if there was something wrong with his hearing. It was difficult to engage his attention. She took another sip from her coffee mug and picked up a peacock blue piece of glass. The design for this window was beautiful, and she felt it might turn out to be the handsomest piece she had done. She felt a momentary regret that Father…that Nick would not be here to see it.

  The thought of Nick brought to mind their brief embrace yesterday as they parted. She blushed, recalling her reaction to being in his arms. Maddy wasn’t naive—she could sense a sexual current between people. She wondered only why she had never noticed it before. Perhaps she had noticed it but hadn’t wanted to admit it. After all, he was a priest. She had always assumed that priests, who had chosen to be celibate, had some sort of mental block they used to avoid feeling attraction.

  Now, as she thought about it, she admitted to herself that no one could avoid temptation. It was simply that taking a vow—whether it was a vow of celibacy or a vow of marriage— meant that you did not succumb to temptation. When you made a vow, you honored it. It was that simple.

  Still, as she thought of their conversation yesterday, she admitted to herself how much she was going to miss him. His friendship and his conversation had grown very important to her over the last year that they had worked together. There were many times when she thought of things she wanted to tell him. Now, she realized with an undeniable sadness, there was no use in saving up those observations. Nick would be gone, and there was no use in pretending they would keep in touch. Especially now that she admitted to herself she felt some desire for him. It was probably good that he was going—good for both of them. Theirs was a friendship that threatened to become too important in her life. Although Doug was wrong to suspect anything improper between them, perhaps he’d felt the current before she had even been aware of it.

  The important thing, she reminded herself, was Nick’s advice; she had to support her husband and maintain a belief in his innocence. No matter how disappointed she was in Doug, there was a huge difference between carelessness and evil. Besides, she had to get her marriage back on track—for Amy’s sake as well as her own. She had put a lot into this marriage, and she had to try to get the trust back between them. Yesterday everything had seemed bleak, but today she felt better. Still shaky, but with the hope a new day brought.

  The cartoon show ended, and a newscast interrupted the flow of programming. There was a recap of information about the death of Rebecca Starnes. Maddy shook her head sadly at the thought of that poor child, so young, her life cut off. She felt suddenly furious at Chief Cameron; regardless of his anger about his daughter, it was monstrous that he could suspect her husband of such a crime. The announcer intoned that the station would re-broadcast the plea made by the parents of Justin Wallace for their child’s safe return. The tape of Donna and Johnny Wallace was heartrending. Donna Wallace held up a Polaroid photo of her son, which looked, unfortunately, like a milk bottle with red eyes and a mop of curly hair.

  “Whoever you might be, if you have our son, please give him back to us. We won’t be angry. We don’t want to prosecute you. We just want our Justin back again.” Donna Wallace began to weep, and Johnny Wallace put his arm around her and leaned over the microphone.

  “We want our son, back, please,” he said, his deep, gruff voice cracking.

  Maddy, who had been watching with one sympathetic eye while she worked, suddenly heard a noise from Sean’s chair. He was sitting up, as straight as a wobbly baby could manage, apparently galvanized by what he saw on the screen. His little eyes were wide, and he was making a grunting noise that sounded like “Da…da…”

  Maddy felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The child became agitated, rocking madly in his little seat and repeating the sound. “Da…da…”

  Amy turned to her mother. “What is he saying, Mom?”

  Maddy stared at the baby in the chair. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “It sounds like Dada,” said Amy.

  “I know,” said Maddy.

  A game show came on, and Amy said, “I don’t want to watch this.”

  Sean began to wail disconsolately and jab his tiny finger in the direction of the TV screen.

  Maddy came numbly around the corner, changed the channel to Sesame Street, bent, and took the washcloth from Sean’s little hands. She walked over to the sink and started to run the water. Don’t be stupid, she thought. She thought about Terry Lewis in the hospital. He was dark haired, just like Johnny Wallace. And Johnny Wallace, in his distraught state, was certainly unkempt, like Terry Lewis. That was probably all it was. Sean saw that man on TV and it reminded him of his father. If…if…that was what he was trying to say.

  She soaked the washcloth, wrung it out, and then wet it again. She turned back to the children. Sean was pointing at the TV again. “Brr…,” he cried.

  “He’s trying to say ‘Big Bird,’” Amy informed her mother. “Sean can talk.”

  Maddy walked slowly over to where the child sat. He wouldn’t be trying to talk if he had hearing problems, she thought. It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. You couldn’t know what babies thought. She peered at the baby with a new and critical eye. He didn’t look like the missing baby. Well, the same general coloring, but the baby in the picture had curly hair. Long, corkscrew curls. She tilted her head and gazed at the soft, close, cropped hair. It was the same color hair, but so what. That didn’t mean anything. Lots of babies had hair that color. What a crazy idea, she thought. Don’t be stupid. Th
is is Bonnie’s baby. Bonnie and Terry’s baby. Sean.

  He was still rocking in the little chair, tears of frustration coursing down his cheeks as if he were bereft of the images on the screen. Maddy came up behind him and held out the wet washcloth. “Justin,” she whispered.

  Sean swiveled around and looked up at her in surprise. Then he smiled a toothless grin and reached out for the washcloth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dr. Larry Foreman rode the elevator up the three floors of the building to his office suite, holding a paper bag containing a of cup coffee and a sweet roll. He chided himself for starting off his morning on such an unhealthy note, but some days he didn’t feel like fighting the good fight. It was a cold, miserable morning, with nothing but gray skies, and Larry suffered from a sunshine deficit disorder. Right now all he could do was dream of a winter at his in-laws’ condo in Florida. If it weren’t for a hefty mortgage and three girls who needed braces, college educations, and, eventually, weddings, he would spend a few weeks at some luxury resort in the Caribbean. Right now, however, he knew that the only way he was going to live long enough to ever see the Caribbean again was to walk to up the stairs and eat half a dry bagel for breakfast, but there was such a thing as too much self-denial.

  The door to his suite was open and the lights on, which meant his receptionist was already at work. Since he didn’t have an appointment for forty minutes, he have would have ample time to eat his sweet roll and catch up on some paperwork. He greeted Arlene and saw her incline her head toward the chairs in the waiting area. Larry turned around with a frown and saw Charles Henson sitting on the edge of a seat, his briefcase on his lap.

  “Charles,” he said, surprised to find the attorney here in person. He had testified a few times as an expert witness for Charles Henson, but that was usually arranged on the phone, between their secretaries, long before they ever met face-to-face.

  Long ago, when his practice was new and he had very few clients, he had encountered Charles Henson in a very different capacity. He had treated Ellen Henson for depression following the death of their son. It had been a late intervention—Ellen was already deeply depressed when Charles finally convinced her to come and see him—too late, as it turned out. At his recommendation Ellen had entered a hospital, where, with constant therapy and some effective drug treatment, she had started to improve.