Song of the Brokenhearted

by Sheila Walsh

  Twenty-One

  SHE WOKE TO A QUIET HOUSE. THE HEATER RUMBLED THROUGH the vents, and her down comforter pressed upon her with a cozy warmth that she fought not to leave. She rolled to her side and felt achy all over. A glance at the clock told her it was after ten already, which shocked her, yet she didn’t feel compelled to get up. As she tucked her hands under her chin, she cried out at the sting in her palms.

  Sitting up, she opened achy hands to see them covered in dried blood and blisters.

  The tree. She’d cut it down. Reminders were everywhere. Her cashmere pajamas and slippers that cost more than her first car were stained with blood and dirt. Muddy footprints made a trail from her bedroom door to the bed. She touched her face and head and tugged out leaves stuck in her tangled hair.

  One glance in the mirror depicted her face as it had been decades ago. The tangles, the tear stains, the expression of loss . . . Ava felt as if she’d morphed back into the child she’d been.

  She showered, opening her hands beneath the searing hot water, and scrubbed her fingernails, trying to get at the dirt. She wrapped herself in her robe, padding down the stairs. She’d never escape that little girl she’d been, no matter how often she shopped at Neiman Marcus or which Versace bag she bought. She was playing dress up, and now, finally, the game was over.

  As she put Band-Aids on her blisters, Ava had a sense of relief that she didn’t need to run from that girl any longer.

  She made coffee and let her eyes sweep over the kitchen. It was as spotless as she’d left it yesterday, with only the mud-prints across the floor as evidence of the night before. She suddenly felt like she could be Alice in Wonderland.

  Ava picked up the house phone where she’d left it on the counter and considered calling Dane. They’d be out on the river or climbing through the smooth rock canyons. She felt like she had so much to talk to Dane about, but the words would have to wait.

  “Are you doing anything fun with your friends?” Dane had asked her before leaving with Jason.

  “I don’t have any money, what can I do?” Ava couldn’t keep the bite of accusation from her tone. Usually, she would have taken this weekend with the girls—they’d drop in at the spa and return to her house exclaiming over how great they felt after massages, pedicures, facials, body wraps. They’d lounge around the pool, drink wine, and maybe catch a movie or local show.

  “I have some money in the safe.” His voice remained full of optimism and hope, and that bugged her. Everything about him bothered her lately. Even his new habit of praying aloud irritated her. She was the spiritual one, and now he was telling her they should seek God more.

  “We keep spending money. I wouldn’t enjoy myself knowing it’s going to be gone soon.”

  “Yeah. But get some rest and do something fun. We’re going to be all right.”

  “I know,” Ava said. Why was his confidence so annoying? Was it a brave front? If so, she should be standing beside him, not joining ranks to make it all harder for him.

  Self-pity—Ava was wallowing in it; she knew it and didn’t care. A few days of feeling sorry for herself, under these circumstances . . . wasn’t that acceptable?

  She’d been in that shameful state when Dane drove away.

  The coffee pot filled the house with a rich aroma. Ava opened her schedule to plot out her day, then realized she had nothing to plot after canceling everything. Maybe she’d stay in her pajamas the entire day. It was only Friday—she could stay in her pajamas the whole weekend if she wanted.

  A screen appeared, showing that her laptop was trying to connect to the Internet but it wasn’t working. A page appeared asking for a payment. Dane hadn’t paid the bill and their Internet was turned off. Ava closed her laptop and went for her phone. She typed a message to Dane, then stopped herself from sending it.

  Instead Ava carried her Bible from her desk and chose one of the coffee mugs from the set she and Dane had bought in Hawaii one year. They were handmade with a deep forest pottery and etched with palms and hibiscus flowers. They’d planned another trip to Maui, but the wedding plans had changed that. Now there’d be neither.

  A hard knock on the door disrupted her thoughts, followed by several rings to the doorbell. The chimes echoed through the house again and again.

  No, Ava groaned. This was not a morning to be sociable.

  Perhaps it was simply a troop of Girl Scouts selling their cookies. But no, not on a school morning. Or a Jehovah’s Witness. Ava could take a pamphlet and be alone again. It might be UPS, but she hadn’t heard the rumble of the brown van coming up the road.

  Usually Ava could distinguish a warped shape through the stained glass double doors, but nothing moved as she padded quietly toward the front door. She peeked through a square of clear glass, but no one was there. Just as she turned away, something on the cobblestone walkway caught her eye.

  What was that? Perhaps a package after all.

  Pushing the door open a crack, she suddenly flung it fully open while it felt as if the blood froze in her veins.

  She stared at the sight.

  Resting neatly on the doormat that read "Welcome To Our Home" sat a car seat with a pink blanket stretched over the carry bar. The seat sat on a base, the kind you keep in the car to easily snap the seat in and out.

  Two tiny, sock-covered feet stuck out from under the blanket.

  Ava looked down the driveway and then up and down her street. There was no one in sight.

  She took several steps forward, half expecting some prank ster to jump out and start laughing, then bent low to peer beneath the blanket.

  Lifting a corner, she gasped, dropped the blanket, and took several steps backward, banging her back against the door frame. “What in the world?”

  A bird chirped and Ava heard the sound of cars down at the main intersection. Then a slight breeze touched the edge of the blanket, drawing her back for another look inside.

  She peered in again. A baby slept with her head resting against the side of the car seat. As Ava watched her, the baby’s mouth moved, making a sucking sound as if she dreamt of milk. The pink car seat, frilly dress, and headband made it obvious that the baby was a girl.

  Then Ava saw the note.

  A white envelope stood upright, resting near the baby’s feet. It had her name written on the front.

  “What?” she muttered, picking up the envelope and hoping the baby wouldn’t wake up.

  Dear Aunt Ava,

  I’ve been glad that we’ve been talking. It’s been real nice. I kind of guessed that you never heard that I got pregnant even, but I did. This is my baby girl, Emma Louise Sterling. I call her Emma. She was born June 22nd. She was a small little thing, maybe cause I sometimes sneaked a cigarette when I was pregnant. I felt awfully bad about that, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve gotten in all kinds of trouble because of taking the easy road. That’s what Grannie tells me. Everyone in the family says that you have everything. They say that you left your family behind because you’ve got it all and now you’re too high and mighty with your fancy house and fancy husband and fancy life. But I’d leave our family behind too if I could have a good life, and especially if I could give Emma everything. So I decided if I can’t give her all that she should have, I want you to take her and raise her right.

  Ava hurried past the car seat and ran out to the road. She spotted someone sitting in an old car with a faded hood a few houses up. It was certainly not the type of car usually seen on these streets. Ava tried to get a better look and suddenly the engine roared to life. The car jerked forward as the driver put it into gear, then it raced past her house.

  “Bethany, wait!” Ava called to the girl behind the wheel. She caught one panicked expression as the girl looked her way before zipping past and then around the corner down the street.

  Ava still held the note in her hand.

  It breaks my heart to do this. She might not believe that I love her as I do since I’m just leaving her here for you. But I do. My Emma is th
e most beautiful, miraculous thing I’ve ever seen in my lousy sixteen years. I hope she’ll understand and forgive me for this some day.

  You are family. I’m believing that you haven’t forgotten that. So please, take good care of my Emma. Please give her the life she can’t have with me.

  Love,

  Bethany

  P.S. I wanted to bring some dahlias for you, but I couldn’t find any at Kroger’s. So I hope you like the orchid they had there.

  Ava hadn’t noticed the potted orchid sitting a few feet from the car seat. The letter fluttered out of her hand, landing in the hedges. She grabbed it back up, turning it over in search of a cell phone number or some way to contact the girl.

  The baby stirred in her car seat, and a panic filled her.

  Ava stared at the car seat, acutely aware that she was standing outside in her pajamas staring at a baby. She realized that the object beside it was a cheap diaper bag stuffed full and straining against its latch.

  She didn’t want to carry the baby into the house. Yet she couldn’t leave it outside while she retrieved her phone. But if she brought the baby inside her house, it seemed some line was being crossed. She did not want to cross that line.

  Ava saw the garage door rising across the street. Old Hal Johnston must be coming out to walk his dog like he did every morning. His dog walking was more about visiting any neighbor in sight than actual exercise. Ava was not prepared to explain an abandoned baby to him.

  And then the baby opened her eyes.

  Twenty-Two

  AVA ROCKED THE CAR SEAT IN THE ENTRYWAY OF THE HOUSE. THE baby appeared fascinated by the scene around her—the sweeping wood stairway and especially how the sun caught the chandelier. Ava turned on the light, and the baby squealed and kicked her feet, arching her neck to try sitting up, then falling back to the view above.

  “It’s okay, you can just hang out there. It’s cozy, right?”

  The baby strained against the straps, staring at Ava with large brown eyes as if trying to communicate.

  “I know I’m a stranger, but I won’t hurt you. Your mama probably will be right back. She’ll get a few miles down the road and turn around . . .”

  Ava’s house phone rang, making the baby jump. She glanced at the child, then down the hall toward the den, then made a sudden run for it while keeping her eye on the car seat the entire time.

  She scooped up the phone sitting on its charger and pushed On while racing back toward the baby.

  “Your cell phone is off and you are not going to believe my date last night,” Kayanne said cheerily.

  “Can you come over?” Ava sputtered in a near frantic tone.

  Silence hung over the phone. “Wh-en?”

  “Now?” Ava tried to keep her voice steady, but an unexpected emotion welled up, threatening to bring her to tears. Why couldn’t she control herself?

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

  Ava swallowed back the emotion and mustered a weak, “Just come soon.”

  “I’m at work. But . . . okay. On my way!”

  She riffled through the diaper bag. There were diapers— five of them, and how many did a baby use in a day, she couldn’t remember.

  The diaper bag was clean but unorganized. There were several rattles and a teething ring. Two bottles were empty with instructions on how to make a bottle taped on the outside. Formula was in a small container. At the very bottom, she found a pacifier.

  This baby needed clothing, more formula and diapers, and most of all, her mother.

  The baby let out an irritated cry, again straining against the car seat straps.

  “Okay, okay,” Ava said, bending down. She unlatched the straps and reached beneath the baby’s arms to pull her out.

  Her small body was lighter than she expected.

  Ava wasn’t sure how to hold her and tried cradling her in her arms. The baby strained again as if wanting to be up, so she moved her to her shoulder.

  And she smelled like a baby, that wonderful scent that didn’t compare to anything else. Her hair was downy soft and smelled of baby shampoo.

  The baby rested her head against Ava’s chest, then squirmed and let out a howl. She leaned back, staring at Ava with a confused expression. Her soft pink mouth dipped into a pout, then she cried again, turning to look around the room.

  The baby grunted, arching her back as she squirmed in Ava’s arms.

  “It’s okay.”

  Surely the baby sensed the panic building in her. The more panicky she felt, the more the baby squirmed and fussed. She rubbed her eyes and suddenly let out a howl. Ava bounced and paced back and forth across the living room and kept talking as the baby calmed. The moment Ava paused, the baby cried again.

  “You like the sound of my voice? But I can’t talk all day. What can I tell you about? You don’t want to hear about the crazy family you were born into. But don’t worry, I was too and I escaped . . .”

  Then she remembered rocking Jason to sleep. Babies like rocking, she reminded herself, and sat in the chair. The baby kicked up with her feet and threw herself backward. Ava almost lost her, which made the baby howl.

  “It’s all right, baby, it’s all right,” she said, and started making a shushing sound as she rocked. The baby settled down as she patted her back. Before long, the baby was moving less and feeling heavier as her muscles loosened. The feel of the baby against Ava’s chest soothed her as well, then panic washed over her again as the reality of a baby abandoned on her doorstep sunk in.

  Outside, the sky darkened as rain clouds gathered together for an afternoon storm. Ava could see the terrible mess in the backyard through the living room window, the branches and leaves scattered around and the jagged top of the willow stump—an ugly sight in the light of day.

  A knock sounded on the front door, but Ava didn’t move to get it. A moment later, she heard Kayanne coming inside.

  “Ava, where are you? The front door was open.”

  “Back here,” she called from the living room. The baby stirred in her arms as she rose from the chair, but with a few bounces, she fell back to sleep.

  “I’m here, sorry to take so long. I stopped for coffee and I bought an entire coconut cream pie at Bailey’s Bakery. It sounded like we’d need the whole pie.”

  “For just the two of us?” Ava asked, walking into the kitchen.

  Kayanne froze when she saw Ava with the baby. One coffee tilted to the side and for a moment Ava thought she’d lose everything onto the floor. Kayanne recovered with only one slosh of coffee hitting the tile.

  “What is that?” she asked, unloading the cups and pie box onto the counter.

  “What do you mean, what is it? It’s a baby.”

  “I figured that part out, and why do you have it?”

  Ava smiled and shrugged. “I found it.”

  Kayanne’s eyebrows lowered as she studied Ava, then the baby, then Ava again.

  “And what happened to you—you’re all scratched up. You’re a mess. Are you okay? Am I seeing things?”

  Ava laughed out loud, making the baby jump.

  “Oh no,” Ava said, bouncing the baby in short, hurried jiggles until she settled back against Ava’s chest. Her arms and back were aching from her overnight adventures with the willow tree, and holding the baby was making it worse.

  “Maybe someone slipped me a rufie in my water last night.”

  “You aren’t seeing things. This is real.”

  “This is why you wanted me to come over? I’m so confused. I thought Dane was seeing another woman.”

  “What? You thought Dane was having an affair?” This pricked at the fear she’d been toying with in the past months.

  “You sounded . . . well, devastated. Thus the pie. This ain’t nothing like what I expected, girlfriend.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You better start at the beginning. Why are you all scraped up? Where did you find this baby? And what are you going to do with it?”<
br />
  “I called you to help me figure that out.”

  “Oh boy. Let me get us a piece of pie, or better yet, forget cutting it. I’ll just get some forks.”

  Twenty-Three

  L“LET’S TACKLE THE IMMEDIATE PROBLEM FIRST,” AVA SAID, BOUNC-ing the baby as Kayanne held the note Bethany had left behind.

  “You sound like we’re in a planning meeting. Okay, immediate problems first. Which are what?”

  “Well, we don’t know how long I’ll have her. Bethany might come back any minute, or it might be a few days.”

  “Got it. So diapers, formula, baby food—is she eating solids yet?”

  “I don’t know,” Ava said, lifting the baby to face her. Their eyes met. “Are you eating baby food yet?” she asked and the baby gave her a huge smile.

  “That was seriously cute.”

  “Do you know how to make a bottle?”

  “We both nursed our kids, and I don’t know how to do any of this anymore.”

  “First, we need to sterilize everything.”

  “Her name is Emma. I love that name,” Kayanne said, and Ava realized she hadn’t fully processed the baby’s name.

  “I considered it when I was pregnant with Jason.”

  “Your favorite Jane Austen book,” Kayanne said, with a quizzical expression.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  She seemed to shake it off. “Nothing, I don’t know. Time to sterilize!”

  A little while later, the few baby items from the diaper bag were drying on the kitchen counter—everything they could sterilize had been dipped in boiling water. While they worked, Ava filled Kayanne in on the last twelve hours, from her battle with the willow tree to the knock on her front door.

  Kayanne used her smart phone to find online instructions for the ratios of formula to purified water as she double-checked the handwritten directions. A mom who leaves her baby on the doorstep might not be the most reliable in such things, they surmised.

  “Okay, I’m heading out for some baby shopping,” Kayanne said. She held a list they’d made after taking inventory of the diaper bag and copying a checklist of baby needs from a parenting website.