by Kinney Scott
Unable to mask his shock, Rick kept his eyes on the floor as his mother sat down.
She recognized his expression, “What’s happened to Grace?” Laura grasped Linnea’s hand and held tight waiting for the news.
Kent put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, encouraging Rick to speak, “This was in the mail. It’s a collections bill from a hospital.”
Laura’s free hand slid to cover her mouth as she inhaled a broken breath of air, “She’s in the hospital? Is Grace hurt?”
Rick’s head snapped up to meet his mother’s eyes, frustration increasing the momentum, “No mom, this isn’t a bill for Grace - the bill is for her baby.”
“Oh, my God,” Linnea gasped as Laura inhaled a silent sob, unable to breathe. His mother’s sound was delayed, but when Laura found volume, her cry didn’t sound human.
“Where! Where’s my grandbaby? On the streets?” Laura moaned, rocking back and forth. Linnea encased the broken woman in her arms, holding the pieces together.
“Rick will find them,” Linnea promised passed tears, praying that he could.
Kent waited. He wanted to snatch the paper from Rick’s shaking hands. To make calls. To get in his truck and begin the search. He paced behind the couch, coiling for action.
Rick kneeled in front of his mother, “Kent and I will find them,” Rick said over his mother’s sobs. He looked desperately toward Linnea, hating that she’d become ensnared in his endless nightmare.
Linnea supported his mother in her arms and turned her head to Rick, “I’ll stay here. Please text me. I’ll do anything I can from here to help.”
The intensity of his gaze would have frightened her if the force behind it was directed her way. Uncurling his body from the floor, Rick bent and kissed the top of his mother’s lowered head. His hand met Linnea’s jaw, turning her lips to his. “Thank you for being here for me - for my family,” he whispered before he kissed her, capturing peace from the touch.
Linnea’s fingers slipped over his hand and held him in place a little longer. The sound of Kent’s long strides communicated urgency, and she let Rick go.
***
“I’m driving,” Kent said pulling out his keys. Rick had his phone in one hand and the crumpled paper in the other. Reversing out of the driveway Kent asked, “Which hospital?”
Typing the address from the document into his phone he said, “Get on the freeway. It’s the hospital off 84.”
The engine growled as Kent picked up speed, finally feeling the tension in his body ease as his adrenaline found an outlet. This relief was short-lived, as the staff at the hospital refused to release any information. Rick growled, understanding the protocol, but despising those who enforced it.
“Let’s get out of here, Rick,” Kent blurted. “They can’t tell us a damn thing. How about the police station?” he added, not knowing what to do next.
“No. Not yet. Do you remember that church downtown?”
“The gothic looking place with the shelter?” Kent asked, merging into holiday traffic.
“Yeah, that’s the last place I saw her.” Using his phone as a light source Rick looked again at the document, scanning it for information. The billing dates etched a timeline in his mind.
“Shit, I can’t believe this,” Rick growled.
“What?”
“Grace was pregnant when I saw her last winter. Why didn’t she say anything? I should have paid closer attention.” He tried to recall anything but couldn’t remember what she wore or how she looked. He swallowed back bile. Grace had been in front of him, carrying a baby, but he’d rushed away after the exchange. Rick blamed himself for ignoring the obvious signs.
Volunteers crowded the church. Thanksgiving weekend launched the shelter’s busiest season. The community rose up to give the city’s homeless population annual assistance. Following Christmas, the help would again dwindle to a trickle, but for now, the shelter accepted everything the public was willing to give.
Rick wove through the too well-dressed, attempting to find a face that looked accustomed to the work. “Rick!” he heard a familiar voice and turned his head. It took a moment for him to place Maggie, the owner of Ashwood’s Goldfinch Bakery in the sea of volunteers.
“Hi, Maggie. What are you doing here?”
“I volunteer once a month. I bring in pies, bread, whatever they need,” he nodded and tried to smile, but the taut muscles in his face could only form a grimace.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked pulling him to a relatively quiet corner. Only then did she notice Kent a few feet behind. Her fear edged up a notch seeing two men from Ashwood at a shelter in Portland.
“Rick. What’s happened?” she asked again.
He brought his attention back to her and blurted, “My sister. She’s homeless. I need to find her.”
Maggie tried to process the information, “What can I do to help,” she asked.
Kent stepped forward, “Maggie, can you help us find somebody who has worked here a while? Someone in charge?”
“Follow me.” She led the way through a swinging door to a dim hallway with office doors flanking both sides. Green chalkboards and child-sized tables recalled a time when kids attending Sunday school ran these halls. The need to serve the homeless community had long ago overtaken the dwindling population of young families attending this church.
Maggie knocked on the only door with light still coming from beneath it. “Come in,” a female voice answered.
A woman with a grey streaked ponytail looked up from her desk. “Maggie, what can I do for you?”
Her cluttered office barely held Maggie, Rick, and Kent as they stepped inside. Worn file cabinets lined the back wall. An ancient copy machine, the size of a small car had papers stacked on top, obviously broken, but not broken enough to toss.
“This is Rick. He’s a friend of mine from Ashwood. We were hoping you could help him find his sister.”
The woman stood and reached across her desk, “Hello, I’m Candace Wills. How can I help?” She smiled past discouraged thoughts, looking at yet another face desperately searching for another runaway.
He took a breath, “My sister met me here last winter when I brought her blankets, clothes, and money. I think she frequents your shelter. I need to find her.”
“And her name?” she asked hoping she could help.
“Grace, Grace Palmer,” Rick blurted.
The woman’s expression shifted to a relieved smile, “You’re Rick Palmer?”
“Yes,” he answered, bewildered.
“I’ve been waiting for you. Grace promised me you would come.”
He felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders and his chest, finally able to breathe, “Is she here?”
“No, I’m afraid not, but her son Ricky is. Please, follow me.”
Ricky, the baby’s name nearly burst his heart through his chest. Grace had a son. She’d chosen his name for her boy. And the baby was here. He couldn’t speak, but his feet moved following her deeper into the old church. The worn industrial tile floor echoed their footsteps. Candace moved rapidly through the halls. Rick, followed Candace toward a tiny child who would permanently change his life.
Just outside the brightly lit room, a bulletin board hung, decorated with tiny paper traced hands cut in the shapes of Thanksgiving turkeys. Bold green letters along the top read CHILDCARE. Rick froze staring at the doorway blinking hard before walking inside.
Unfamiliar sounds, sights, and smells assaulted his senses. The only lessons he’d learned about children came from certification courses through the fire department. Nothing prepared him for this.
The room smelled sweet, a mixture of apple juice and graham crackers. Bells and electronic music filled the air, as tiny hands played with will used primary color toys. He scanned the room and realized he didn’t know what to look for. Tiny faces turned to look at the big man standing in the frame of the door - his glazed eyes stared vacantly back.
Candace appeared in front of
him, with a chubby dark-haired baby perched on her hip. His deep blue eyes stared and he surprised Rick with the unexpected. His hands released their hold on Candace’s shirt reaching toward Rick. His round little body leaned forward, begging to transfer from one person to the next.
Rick’s strong hands carefully wrapped around the surprisingly sturdy little boy. He pulled him to his torso, supporting with two hands for now, unaccustomed to the size, shape, and weight of a baby in his arms.
Kent stepped to one side of Rick and Maggie to the other, “He’s beautiful.” Maggie gasped, reaching to touch the little hand that fisted Rick’s shirt. Then the baby squirmed, saw a bright object on the floor and reached out squealing a high-pitched sound that made Rick tense.
“What did I do?” he asked worried.
Candace laughed, “Nothing, Ricky’s really active, and wants down on the floor to play.”
Rick handed the baby off to Candace and she lowered the baby to the floor. His rounded bottom waddled back and forth closing in on a bright ball. He flipped to sit on his diapered bottom and attempted to reach for the ball, but it rolled away. Maggie squatted on the floor in front of Ricky and rolled the ball back, understanding exactly how to play with the tiny child.
“I gotta sit down,” Rick said suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Kent glanced at Rick’s greenish face and quickly grabbed a chair.
“Rick sit. Let me get you some water,” Kent said easing his friend to a seat. He’d never seen anyone so pale. Kent pulled up another chair and the two men watched Maggie play with Ricky.
“I guess I better call Mom and Linnea. What am I supposed to say?”
Kent tilted his head, “Tell your Mom you’ll be home soon with her grandson.”
A look of panic slashed across Rick’s face, “I haven’t got a clue what to do with a baby.”
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out,” Kent encouraged.
Candace asked Maggie as she played on the floor, “Maggie will you stay here with the baby? I have some papers for Rick in my office.”
Maggie nodded and rolled the glossy red ball in the baby’s direction.
In her office, Candace pulled a large manila envelope from her top drawer and gave it to Rick. Reaching inside Rick found his nephew’s birth certificate, legal documents, immunization records, and a letter in a sealed envelope with his name on it.
“You can take your time to read the letter later, but I want to let you know Grace did her best. I found her a spot in a family shelter, and hoped she would take advantage of the services we had to offer.”
“But she didn’t?” Rick asked, knowing the answer.
“For the baby, but not for herself. I think she was waiting. Grace knew you would come during the holidays and asked me to keep an eye on Ricky today until you came. During a recent stay, I had our legal counsel visit with her. I was concerned she might abandon Ricky, and I wanted to be prepared. After meeting with our social workers, she finished the paperwork to grant you custody.”
“Grace was here today? But how did she know I would come?”
Candace’s puzzled shrug revealed nothing. “Didn’t she call you?”
He explained, “Earlier this evening we found an overdue bill for maternity services in our mailbox.”
She shook her head, “That must have been such a shock. I’m sorry for all you’ve gone through.”
Rick nodded, but couldn’t speak.
Kent stated the obvious, “We should probably take the baby home. Ricky will need to settle in.”
Candace nodded, “We have care boxes for families with infants. I’ve put one together for you.”
Rick leaned forward, “Thank you, Candace. Thank you for taking care of Grace and her baby.”
“I need to call Mom. Kent could you get the care box from Candace?”
“You’ll need a car seat to get him home,” Candace added. “We have a loaner available.”
“Okay. Thank you. I’ll bring the car seat back tomorrow.”
“No need to hurry. Anytime in the next week is fine. Rick, he’s a wonderful boy. Grace loved him very much. She knew you would provide the best for him”
Rick nodded, “We’ll be fine. Thank you for your help.”
Kent heard the sharp decisive edge in his friend’s clipped tone as Rick’s crisis training pushed to the surface. After talking with Maggie, Rick took her offer for a ride. Kent’s truck wasn’t the safest option for a baby seat.
Maggie followed Kent to Laura’s with a troubled man and a tired baby on the benched seat of her Goldfinch bakery van. At first, Ricky fussed, but soon his long lashes eased down over drowsy eyes as the rhythm of the road rocked him to sleep. Rick watched the boy, his mind whirling with worry.
THIRTEEN
Laura paced the damp lawn in the dark, waiting for her grandson to arrive. Linnea sat on the porch huddled against the cold. When the van stopped, Rick slid the door open bending to release the baby from a confusing array of straps and buckles.
“Let me see him,” his mother said impatiently.
“Just a second, Mom. I’ll meet you in the house where it’s warm.”
With the bundle snugged close to his chest, Rick moved through the door as Linnea held it open. Searching her expression as he passed, Rick wondered what she thought of this colossal shift in his world. He found her eyes the same, welcoming and warm.
Laura moved in an urgent dance around her son stretching to gain a better view.
“Let me hold him,” she whispered sliding her arms to transfer the sleeping child.
“Oh my, he’s precious. Rick, he looks just like you. He’s a Palmer through and through. Have you told your father?” she asked, adding another worry to Rick’s mind.
“Not yet,” he answered efficiently. “Mom, I need to get a few things for tonight before all the stores close.”
She nodded, “Go. I’ll take care of the baby.”
Kent walked in with the box from the shelter setting it on the dining room table.
Leaving his Mother to enjoy her sleeping Grandson, Rick pulled Linnea, Maggie, and Kent out the back door to thank Maggie for her help, “I’m sorry you were roped into this, but I’m so thankful you were there.”
Maggie nodded, “I feel I was meant to be here today. I’ve volunteered at that shelter each month for over two years. I’ve met Grace.”
“You have? How did she look? I mean, was she healthy?” Rick asked worry edging his voice.
Maggie nodded and placed a calming hand on his arm, “Yes, she seemed well... I thought…well, I thought she might try to reach out to her family soon. Obviously, I had no idea that family was you.”
Rick’s stoic wall crumbled and he pulled Maggie into a crushing hug, “Thank you for helping. Maybe she made the connection to Ashwood through you. Maybe that gave her strength.”
Maggie decided to stay with Laura while the rest left for a rapid shopping trip. They returned to find a late night supper of pasta and salad ready to eat. Maggie left for Ashwood and Kent followed soon after, leaving Rick, Linnea, and Laura in Portland.
A tower of bright wooden blocks toppled. Linnea laughed as Ricky clapped. He chose a yellow block and held it out pleading with a six-toothed smile to have the blocks stacked again. Laura came in from the laundry room with a basket of predominantly blue baby clothes.
Rick set up the portable crib in his room, wondering if he and Linnea would find sleep at all. Laura sat in the recliner rocking her well-fed grandson. “Mom, let me put Ricky in his bed.” She reluctantly released the warm bundle and watched as her son and grandson disappeared down the hall.
Linnea lay on the couch, curled under a fleece blanket. “He’s beautiful,” she whispered quietly.
“He looks so much like Rick did at that age,” Laura nodded. “It takes me back. I know it sounds crazy, but I imagined seeing Mitch when I first glimpsed Rick holding the baby.”
“Will Mitch be coming to visit his Grandson?” Linnea asked.
“I’ll let Rick
handle those arrangements. Mitch and I divorced a year ago, and he’s moved on. His girlfriend doesn’t tolerate much contact with me,” she shrugged, an uneasy sigh escaping her lips.
Lifting her legs, Linnea made room for Rick on the couch. He settled her calves across his thighs and pulled the blanket back in place. “Ricky went right down. He seems exhausted. Hell, I’m exhausted. If I sit here for five minutes, I’ll be snoring.”
Laura stood and yawned, “I’m going to bed. If you need anything, knock on my door. I’d be happy to take a middle of the night feeding.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mom,” he said as she disappeared down the hall.
Linnea began easing her legs off his lap, but he grabbed her by the calves and held her in place. For the first time in hours, he finally saw her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking her ankle.
“For what?” she asked confused.
“I should have known Grace would ruin our holiday. I’m sorry you didn’t spend it with your family.”
She barely suppressed her anger, “Rick. Do you think I would have stayed in Yakima once I learned what you were going through? I’m thankful I was here.”
“But… you deserve better.”
“No, Rick. No one will ever be better than you for me. Don’t you understand?” For weeks she’d been waiting for the right time to say I love you, and she dreamed of hearing that phrase. For now, her eyes attempted to tell him what her words could not.
Rick’s arms stretched across her body. He pulled her effortlessly to his lap. Settling against his chest, she tipped her head and kissed him. The kiss didn’t ignite need. Instead, she comforted him with the soft caress.
“We better get sleep while we can,” he said as her soft curves settled against him. He felt her nod. Untangling from his grasp, Linnea took the first turn in the bathroom while Rick locked up the house.
Slipping silently past the baby and into bed, she waited for Rick. Once they both settled, he spooned her against his body. His minty breath caressed the hairs on the nape of her neck. They listened to the tiny pants of the baby, broken by an occasional whimper. Rick couldn’t unwind until Linnea’s body relaxed, the cadence of her breathing radiated peace and he finally found a few hours of sleep.