Jingle Bell Bark (23 page)

Happiness bubbled up inside me; I laughed out loud. “Don't worry,” I said, wrapping an arm around my brother. “We'll take care of him.”

“Him?” Bertie called from inside the room. “What about me? Come on in here and see the newest member of the family.”

She didn't have to ask us twice.

B
ertie was sitting up in the hospital bed, looking flushed and radiant. One of the nurses had combed her auburn hair off her face and tied it back with a velvet ribbon. Her arms were curled protectively around a tiny bundle, swathed in a pink blanket.

As we drew near, Bertie nudged the edge of the blanket aside and revealed her daughter's face. The baby's eyes were closed in a blissful sleep but she had her mother's creamy skin and high cheekbones. I thought I could see Frank's contribution in the pink bow lips and strong chin. Both tiny hands were fisted and pressed against her cheeks.

“Oh my,” I whispered. “She's perfect.”

“I told you,” said Frank.

“I can't believe it.” Bertie sighed happily. “I can't believe I really have a baby.”

“You had nine months to get used to the idea,” I pointed out.

“I know, but it didn't seem real until she was actually here.”

“It seemed real enough in the car,” Frank muttered.

Sam punched him in the arm. Good call, I thought.

“Isn't she just the sweetest thing?” asked Bertie. The question didn't seem to need an answer, but we all nodded in unison anyway.

“Look how tiny she is.” Sam reached out and touched the baby's fingers with one of his own. Her hand opened, then curled closed again around the tip of his finger. I could see Sam's heart melt.

“I can't believe she's asleep,” Frank said, gazing down at his child adoringly. “She just got here.”

Sam chuckled. “If my sister's kids are any indication, there will be plenty of times to come when she'll be up and you'd give anything if she would just fall asleep and let you do the same.”

“Besides,” I said, “getting here was the hard part. She probably wore herself out.”

“Tell me about it,” Bertie agreed.

Despite her words, she didn't look tired. She looked... serene, blissful, even Madonna-like. It took me a minute to readjust the image I'd always had of my sister-in-law. Bertie was one of the smartest, busiest, most competent people I knew. There was always something going on in her life; it was unusual to see her sit still.

Marriage to my brother had gone a long way toward unwinding Bertie's tension. It had softened some of her hard edges. But now, seeing her looking like she never needed to move again, as though everything she wanted was right within her reach, I realized that Bertie had finally found the peace she'd always sought.

Good Lord, I thought, drawing in a sniffling breath. I was about to cry.

Sam slipped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. When he turned his head, his lips grazed my hair. “There's nothing like a new baby to put everything into perspective,” he said.

With a sudden spear of intuition, I realized how badly he wanted a child of his own. Sam made a wonderful surrogate father for Davey and I knew he doted on his nieces and nephews. But he and I had never spoken about having children. In the beginning our mutual desire for them had simply been assumed. Then our marriage plans had gotten derailed and the subject seemed moot.

Maybe it was time to reawaken it. Not right now necessarily ...but soon.

“She needs a name,” said Frank. He looked at Bertie expectantly. “We have to make a decision. The bracelet on her wrist says Baby Girl Turnbull.”

“Not Godot?” I asked innocently.

Sam grinned as Frank shot me a look. “I think they were kidding about that, Mel.”

“Just checking.”

“We wanted a family name,” said Bertie. “Something that came with some history. Your grandmothers' names wouldn't do.”

Agnes and Ethel, I thought. I could see why not. “What about yours?”

“Lavinia and Charlotte,” Bertie admitted.

“Maybe Charlotte... ?”

We all looked down at the baby. One by one, we shook our heads.

“But then I remembered Great Aunt Emma,” said Bertie. “She lived at the beginning of the last century, and when I was little my mother was always telling me stories about her adventures. She was way ahead of her time, fiercely independent, and probably a bit of a wild woman.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “And of course anyone would want to have a daughter with
those
traits. I was thinking of something demure, maybe Sarah or Rosemary.”

“Sorry, honey, but I don't think so,” Bertie said with a smile. “Between your genes and mine, that die is already cast in the other direction.”

“Emma's a great name,” I said.

“I like it,” Sam agreed.

“Emma.” Frank let the name roll of his tongue experimentally.

He reached down, took the baby from Bertie's arms, and lifted her up to cradle her gently in his own. Frank dipped his head until he and the sleeping infant were almost nose to nose. “Little baby Emma,” he said on a soft breath. “Welcome to the world.”

“Now you are going to make me cry,” I said, fighting back another sniffle. Even Sam was looking a little teary eyed.

There was a discreet knock at the door, then Aunt Peg's imposing frame filled the doorway. She seemed to be holding an entire gift shop's worth of helium balloons in her hand. There were smiley faces, and bunny rabbits, and silver latex orbs bearing the message “Congratulations!” The balloons bounced and bobbled at the end of their strings, vying for space in the opening with my aunt.

“Am I too late?” she asked. “Did I miss all the excitement?”

“You're just in time,” I said. “Come in and meet Emma.”

Peg released the strings she held fisted in her hand and a dozen balloons floated up to rest on the ceiling. Eyes never leaving the bundle in Frank's arms, she crossed the room with cautious steps. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand toward the tiny infant. Then abruptly she pulled back and laughed self-consciously.

“I know everything in the world about puppies,” she said. “And not a single thing about babies. Can I touch her?”

“Of course,” Bertie said from the bed. “The doctor told me she's very sturdy. You can even hold her if you like.”

“Oh no...” Aunt Peg said quickly, then stopped to reconsider. The tip of her finger traced the shape of the sleeping baby's face. “Well, maybe if I sit down.”

A chair was brought forward. Aunt Peg settled into the seat. I thought of all the times I'd watched her show Poodle puppies to prospective families. How she always made the children sit on the floor before she placed the puppy in their arms. Babies were babies, I decided. And Aunt Peg wasn't as ignorant as she thought.

She raised her arms and Frank, the proud papa, handed Emma over. Aunt Peg sat back and nestled her close. “Little Emma,” she whispered. “What a lovely name.”

Frank cleared his throat. He and Bertie exchanged a look. “That's not her whole name,” he said. “Bertie and I were still thinking about first names, but we always knew what her middle name would be.”

Bertie looked at Peg and smiled. “We're going to name her Emma Margaret Turnbull. I hope that's all right with you.”

“All right?” Aunt Peg lifted her head; her eyes were shining. “I'd be honored.”

Now I was crying. Tears slid from my eyes and down my cheeks. I brushed them away, took the handkerchief Sam held out to me, and gave myself up to the moment.

 

 

The next afternoon I drove back to Davey's school for the third time in little more than a week. This time I didn't run into Annie Gault; the buses were loaded and gone before I arrived.

I'd called ahead earlier in the day and spoken to Carrie Baker. She said she had some work to finish up after school but if I could drop by around five, she'd be happy to chat. I arranged for Bob to pick up Davey, dropped the Poodles off at home, and went to see what she had to say.

The parking lot at Hunting Ridge was just about empty when I pulled in. Most times of the year, the school would have still been busy at that hour, but two days before the start of Christmas vacation, nobody wanted to work any harder than they had to.

The only car in the lot was an older model Toyota sedan with a slightly dented fender and a bumper sticker that read “Have You Hugged Your Teacher Today?” I parked beside it, got out, and let myself in the side door to the building.

The lights in the outlying hallways and classrooms had already been shut off. Only the dim emergency lighting remained. Familiar with the layout from my years of working at Hunting Ridge, I strode through the darkened building toward the front lobby where I expected to find Carrie. The tap, tap, tap of my shoes on the slick linoleum floor echoed in the silence around me.

There wasn't any cause for concern; even so, I felt my heart beating faster as I made my way through the labyrinth of corridors and intersections. At one point in my life, this building had been as familiar to me as my own home. Now, in the shadowy gloom, everything looked different and slightly off-kilter.

Finally rounding the last corner, I saw the lights of the lobby up ahead. Feeling foolish, I expelled a shaky breath and headed toward them. Then I reached the edge of the reception area and stopped.

The school office was visible on the other side of the expanse. Lights were on in the office, but from what I could see through the windows, the outer room where Carrie worked appeared to be empty. Surely she wouldn't have left without speaking to me, I thought. And wasn't that her car I'd seen parked outside? But if she wasn't waiting for me at her desk, where was she?

Something... not a sound exactly, more a change in the air around me made the hair on the back of my neck quiver. Acting on instinct, I shrank back into the shadows and pressed my back against the cold corridor wall. As my eyes readjusted to the darkness, I looked around and saw... nothing. The portion of the lobby still visible to me appeared silent and empty. I'd lost my view of the office, but there hadn't been anyone there anyway. Or had there?

My heart was beating wildly now; adrenaline pumping into my veins. I clutched my purse strap with cold fingers and wondered if there was anything inside I could use as a weapon. Quietly, sliding on my toes so as not to make any noise, I inched back toward the corner. I had to find out what was going on.

All at once I heard a door slam, followed by the sound of running footsteps. For a moment I stood paralyzed, unable to tell whether the runner was heading in my direction or the other way. Then the footsteps began to fade; whoever it was was getting away. I leapt out into the now empty lobby.

The office was directly across from me. To my right was another corridor much like the one I'd just left. A shadowy figure, moving quickly, had nearly reached the end. Without stopping to think, I took off in pursuit. Only a moment earlier, I'd felt like a target. Now with my quarry in sight in front of me, I was the hunter.

In the time it took me to cross the lobby, the runner disappeared from sight. Either he'd turned at one of several intersections or else ducked inside a classroom. I stopped and strained my ears, listening for the sound of muffled steps. After a moment, I heard them. He was still moving. And then so was I.

My loafers slipped and slid on the linoleum as I raced after him. Days are short in December; night had already fallen. If I didn't see the intruder before he reached the outer door, I'd lose him in the darkness outside. I knew he had to be counting on that.

I wasn't gaining ground, but I was pretty sure I wasn't losing any either. Maybe I'd get lucky, I thought, and the door on this end of the building would be locked. Then that thought brought me up short. If the exit was barred, the intruder would be cornered. He wouldn't have any choice but to double back in my direction....

The moment of inattention was fractional, but it was enough. Chasing around the last corner, I felt my shoes slip on the slick, shiny floor. When my feet went flying out from under me, I was moving much too fast to hope to regain my balance. My hands grabbed for purchase; my fingers grazed briefly over a smooth concrete wall.

Then I was spinning out and going down. I landed sharply on my hip. Pain shot up through my side then into my shoulder, as my elbow crunched on the hard, unyielding floor. Momentum sent me flying across the corridor and into the wall opposite where I bounced off of a bank of metal lockers.

A dizzy, disorienting minute passed before I realized that I was finally still. At the end of the hallway, the outside door flew open, rebounded off the outer wall, then swung shut. My quarry vanished into the night.

“Oow!”

It was a wail born partly of pain, and partly of frustration. I let my head fall back down on the floor. My knee and elbow stung, the rest of my body just seemed to ache all over. The linoleum floor felt cold and hard beneath me.

In pain or not, I couldn't just lie there. I needed to find out where Carrie was, and what she'd been doing during my wild chase through the darkened school.

Slowly, painfully, I hauled myself to my feet. My purse was on the floor beside the wall where I'd flung it as I fell. Scooping it up, I reached inside and pulled out my cell phone. Under the circumstances, it felt good to have a connection with the outside world resting in my hand.

This time, as I made my way back to the front lobby, I heard nothing at all. No sign that there was anyone around but me. Quickly, I crossed the lighted expanse and reached for the office door. I half expected it to be locked, but instead it opened easily. It must have been the door I'd heard slam earlier.

I hesitated in the doorway. “Carrie?”

The office was a square, workmanlike space, crowded to capacity with four boxy, metal desks, matching chairs and credenzas, plus several banks of gray file cabinets. My eyes skimmed over the room, going first to the desk near the window that had been Carrie's when I'd worked at Hunting Ridge. The other desk tops were mostly clear, but that one held what I first took to be a dark, bulky envelope. Then I looked again and realized it was a leather clutch purse. Carrie's purse.