Masquerade (29 page)

              “What in particular? A lot of things happened back then.”

              “You know . . .” She nodded, locked eyes with him, hoping he’d pick up some clue from her intense facial expression.

              No  trace  of  recall  registered  in  those  gorgeous,

blue eyes.

Or was he pretending? How could he forget something like that? But then she may have been one of many girls he wooed back in college days.

She sat on the other end of the couch. “Why isn’t a guy like you married? You could have any girl you wanted.”

“Too ambitious, I guess. No girl could hold on long enough to see me through medical school.” He inched over. “But I sense you’re different. A woman of real commitment.”

Was she? “Don, I . . .” She wanted to tell him about Lily, but it was too soon. Timing was so crucial in all of this. Until she could verify Golden Girl belonged to her, she’d best keep quiet.

“Shh.” He ran a smooth finger along her brow, then gently planted a kiss on the tip of her nose, working his way to her lips.

She gently pushed on his chest. “Too fast, Don. I’m not ready for this. And as you say, it’s getting late.”

He threw his hands up, palms out, in an act of surrender. “Right.”

“There is something you can do for me, though.”

“Name it.”

“You said something earlier about not having to work tomorrow. You up for a drive?”

“Where to?”

“Hmm . . . Fort Wayne area? Got some research I need to do concerning a student. I’d really enjoy the company.” She winced. “And the reliable transportation.”

###

             
In the kitchen, Joe sprinkled a few flakes into the fish tank. Rhett and Scarlett, his newly-acquired bettas, darted from underneath a plant toward their breakfast, feathery fins gliding in the water. A bag of corn curls lay open on the counter, and he snitched a bite. The crunchy chips had been his salvation since the doctor advised him to give up alcohol. That and a pack of peppermint gum on the ready in his pocket. Chewing not only kept his mouth occupied, but also exercised his facial muscles.

              Not a bad life he’d created over the last month, but one he wished he could share with Celeste. Yesterday’s encounter on the playground had been tenuous at best. She’d been reluctant to face him, let alone speak to him. She’d scrutinized him like he was some sort of odd curiosity piece, her expression wavering between empathy and dismay. Of course, it couldn’t have been easy to confront the man who survived the same explosion that claimed her husband’s life.

              Wearing boxer shorts and a tee-shirt with cutoff sleeves, Joe opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto his private patio. The cement slab felt cool beneath his bare feet, and the slight chill in the morning air invigorated him. Terracotta pots of varying sizes and shapes lined the cinderblock partition that separated his unit from the adjoining one. Potting soil, spades, and a watering can sat ready for spring planting.

              How he wished he could slip over and clean out Celeste’s flowerbed, make it look beautiful for her. But at least he could send her money now and again.

             
As he eased garden gloves over his deformed hands, he reveled in the memory of Celeste’s touch, her hand so soft and delicate when they shook yesterday. Like angel breath on a calloused soul. Oh, how he loved her. How he always would.

              His mind drifted to the theater where he held her hand for the first time.

              Celeste munched through a tub of buttery popcorn, the whites of her eyes aglow in the bluish aura of the movie screen. Characters spewed their lines and scenes changed, but Joe couldn’t follow the plot. His thoughts centered on one thing: kissing Celeste. But not here, not like the couple making out two rows up. That wasn’t his style. His father, God rest him, always said, “Ya gotta woo a woman, son. That’ll drive her crazy and keep her coming back for more.” So, Joe determined to take their relationship slow, and he’d start by holding her hand.

              Fighting against nervousness, he slipped his hand gently over hers. She flashed a smile worth all the sweat he’d worked up over how she’d react. 

              Two years later, their physical relationship progressed from holding hands to much more.

              And then he left.

Stupid. He stabbed a spade into an open bag of potting soil. He had her, and he left her.

An idea played on his mind. But wasn’t that what he was doing now? Leaving her? He thought he’d been doing her a favor. But maybe he was just the same old Joe trying to find himself.  That guy hadn’t died.  Instead, he’d

emerged from the fire with a keener desire to find his place in the world, at least once he adapted to his appearance. Maybe in some strange way he needed the flames to test what he was really made of. Sure, he flunked at first, but now he was doing better. So much so, he decided to attend community college in the fall and study horticulture.

He’d finish out the school year at The Brighton Center and then leave his volunteer spot. He loved the kids, but he couldn’t bear watching Celeste from afar. That pain sliced right through his heart like a dull-bladed butcher knife.

###

Celeste and Don studied the door: Larson’s Real Estate. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

She folded her arms and surveyed the surrounding area, certain this office space housed William-Myer Women’s Clinic. What had happened? Did the doctor get caught and the practice shut down? It would serve him right, and Father, too. Her father had likely paid big bucks for Celeste’s abortion. She shuddered at the deceit and treachery. What would she have done if the clinic were here anyway? Storm in and demand to talk to someone? Another crazy idea. Yet she needed to retrace all her tracks, no matter how painful the process might be.

“I’m so sorry, Don. I don’t know what I was thinking. I must have gotten the wrong address.” She jammed her hands in her sweater pockets.

“You mentioned possibly stopping by Kinser General. How about we try that?”

“You’re being awfully patient about this.”

“Hey, I like a good intrigue as well as the next fellow.”

She wilted. She hadn’t been upfront with him about her true quest, and he hadn’t questioned her, seemingly happy to tag along. “But going to a hospital on your day off isn’t exactly what you’d like to do for fun, I imagine.”

He touched her elbow. “I’m with you, aren’t I? That’s enough.”

Her internal thermostat kicked into high, and she waved her hand over her face. “Well then, let’s go to Kinser.”

With a hand on her back, Don led her to his BMW. A few minutes later they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

In the lobby, Don said, “It’d probably be best to go straight to admissions. They might be able to help you. Although they likely won’t release information without signed consent from Lily’s legal representation.”

“But you’re a doctor. Won’t they release to a licensed doctor?”

“Lily isn’t my patient.” He took her by the hand and moved toward the elderly woman sitting behind the information desk.

Celeste’s knees buckled, and the sausage biscuit she’d eaten in the car hovered at the back of her throat. “Wait a minute. Would you mind terribly if we went up to maternity first?” Somehow, she needed the connection, but was the torture of the nursery worth it?

Yes, she needed to take this process slow, no matter how painful.

              Confusion skipped across Don’s face.

              “Just for a few minutes.” She glanced toward the elevator.

              The silver-headed woman with two chins leaned forward, and her chair squeaked. “Third floor.”

              Don tapped the desk. “Thanks.”

              The elevator ride only aggravated her nervous stomach. The doors swished open to the sound of baby wails. Stepping out, she hesitated, but Don headed toward the nurses’ station.

              “Don?”

              He spun on his heel.

              She walked toward him. “I’d like to see the babies first.”

              “I thought you wanted to find out more about Lily.” He looked at his watch. “If we speak to the right people, we could get outta here and eat some lunch.”

              “Oh, I
have
inconvenienced you.” Celeste rubbed a sore spot on her shoulder.

              He studied her with physician eyes, then extended his hand. “Let’s go see the babies.”

              After checking in at the station, they moved to the nursery. Behind the glass, several incubators housed newborns. Some red-faced and squalling, others sleeping, and still others sucking feverishly on their fists. All adorable. One nurse rocked a bundled baby while another nurse changed a diaper.

              Celeste  caressed  the  window.  Tiny Lily struggled

for her life in this very room almost eight years ago. Compassionate nurses had cared for the rejected infant. Had saved her life, in fact, when Celeste had tried to take it.

Her fingers curled into a fist as she lowered her head. What kind of monster takes a child’s life?

              “You okay?” Don squeezed her arm.

              She’d forgotten he stood beside her. “Let’s go ask some questions.”

              At one end of the station, a nurse arranged medication on a tray. Her head popped up when Lily and Don stepped up to the large semi-circular island. “Can I help you?”

              Don glanced at Celeste.

              She sucked in a breath. “I’m a special education teacher in Schreiber. One of my students, a little girl named Lily, was likely brought to this neonatal unit about eight years ago.”

              Another nurse jotted notes on a patient chart. She stuck a pen in her uniform pocket and frowned at Celeste.

              The medication nurse nodded slowly as if placating a deranged woman.

              “I’m trying to find out who brought the baby to Kinser and the name of the caseworker who picked up Lily.”

              “Have you checked at Child Protective Services?” The med nurse propped a fist on her hip.

              “I tried. Uh . . .” Her gaze flickered to Don. “We thought you might be able to help. Anything—”

              “You  need  to  go  to  admissions.  I  can’t  help you

here.” She resumed arranging meds on the tray, signaling the end of the conversation.

              Don took Celeste by the arm. He had that smug “I-told-you-so look” on his face, but she kept quiet. Now was not the time to expend energy on a frivolous argument. Not when she needed to unravel Lily’s mysterious arrival at Kinser.

              Halfway down the hall, she felt a hand touch her back. She spun around. The other nurse at the island, the one jotting notes on a chart, stood before her. “I might be able to help you. Care for some coffee in the cafeteria? It’s not the greatest, but it’s hot.”

              “Sure. Is that okay with you, Don?”

              He shrugged. “It’s what we’re here for.”

###

              Settled at a round table, the threesome sipped their coffee.

              “I don’t have long. Short break.” The nurse cupped her hands around her mug.

              “Thank you for taking the time to talk to us.” Under the table, Celeste twisted her hands. She wanted to reach across the surface and rip the words out of the nurse’s throat. Instead, she took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

              “I shouldn’t be telling you this.” She leaned across the table, her voice low. “But if Lily is who I think she is, she’s the product of a botched abortion.”

              Celeste’s heart plunged to her stomach. She struggled to stay calm. “That would explain the deformed arm, I suppose.”

              “Yes, the baby brought to us had no forearm, just a stub from the shoulder to the elbow.”

              Don leaned forward, folded his hands on top of the table. “And who brought the baby to you?”

              The nurse glanced from Don to Celeste, paused and narrowed her eyes. “You’re not media, are you? Doing some sort of crazy documentary?”

              Celeste shook her head. “No, nothing like that. As I said at the desk, I’m Lily’s teacher.” And her mother, it seemed. Her mouth suddenly dry, she took a sip of coffee.
Hot!
She coughed and massaged her throat.

              “Like I said, this coffee’s not much to brag about.” A wobbly smile fluttered across the nurse’s lips. She played with the sugar packets. “I sure don’t want to get Kate in any more trouble. She lost her job over that one act of kindness.”

              Celeste pushed her mug away. “Kate?”

              “Kate Dryden. My friend. And the nurse who brought Lily to us. I happened to be working the night shift.” She stared into space, lost in some interior field of vision. A deep groove appeared between her eyebrows, and her eyes filled with tears.