Maternal Harbor (12 page)

Bryan Winslow filled his lungs with damp air scented by wet pine.  At last, he thought, back in the Montana Rockies.  Gray drizzling clouds encased the top half of the mountains; below them, the swift current of the Flathead River churned against rocks and frothed in a never-ending cascade of white water rapids.

Rain dripped from the brim of his ball cap.  Bryan hefted two five-gallon water cans into a wheelbarrow and pushed back up the path.  The chilly rain gathered on the needles of lodge pole pine, fell and hit the back of his neck.  Moisture-laden leaves barely moved on aspen trees.  Odors of moss and dank rot rose below his footsteps with a remembered pungency.  This drenched wilderness just might cleanse away the years in Oklahoma and give back the self-assurance he knew before he left Seattle.

He had yearned for this place in the dry, dusty years spent in Oklahoma.  Here Bryan returned to the excitement of a childhood spent lazily fishing from a high boulder for a whole morning or climbing to where no one else had.  The isolation was complete, simply him and the elements: no suits, no shaving, and no barbers, only living macho, and eating red meat.  He liked the thought.

In the midst of a dense stand of larch and pine, Bryan’s grandfather cleared the space needed for the cabin, outhouse, and woodshed.  A piped spring provided drinking water.

On Bryan’s first summer stay, his grandfather explained, “Water for bathing is your choice.  Either haul it from the river or take a bar of soap with you.”  As a ten-year-old, Bryan picked the cold river and the bar of soap; now he preferred water heated on the stove and poured into an ancient high-backed tin tub – better than a Jacuzzi any day.

He pushed the wheelbarrow close to the cabin door and hauled the cans inside.  Warmth from the wood stove radiated throughout the large main room and dispelled his damp chill.  He lifted a water can onto the stove.  Drops sizzled against the hot surface, sounding merry in the silent room.  He shed his jacket and hung it on a nail near the fire.

The room’s raw-lumber walls were still brightened by grandma’s needlework.  A glass-fronted bookcase contained grandpa’s classics.  Plank shelves along one wall supported dishes and canned goods.  A rough lumber partition at the back separated his grandparent’s small bedroom from the rest.  The long, worn leather couch in the main room held a young Bryan, a teenage Bryan, and a full-grown Bryan in a comfort like no queen-sized bed could.  His grandparent’s whispered conversations over a last cup of coffee while they waited for him to sleep, added to his wellbeing.  He’d quickly learned how to fake sleep and listen to their plans or worries.  Later he realized that Fiona knew he was faking and let him learn about grownup things first hand, hard to put anything over on her then, harder now.

This time the cabin belonged to him alone.

He put away groceries and carried his belongings into the bedroom.  After one look at the bed, he decided to sleep on the couch.  Not because of the sacredness of his grandparents’ coupling, but his own.  The sense of Teagan still filled the room, leftover from the only time he brought her to the high country.  She’d shared the ocean depths with him, and he shared the mountain tops with her.  He’d forever be grateful to his grandmother for handing them the key and pretending to be too busy to join them.

Fighting a good case of regret, Bryan left Teagan’s memory in the bedroom.

The water on the stove simmered, and he used potholders from a nail behind the chimney to pour it into the tub.  When he added a pail full of cold water, steam rose in a cloud that again reminded him of Teagan.  He heard afresh her words, “We might spend the night together, but my bath is private.”  She pointed at the door.  “Go.”

Laughing at her indignation, he stepped outside and, feeling like a Peeping Tom, peeked through the window.  All pale lines and soft curves in the flickering light cast from the fire, she stepped into the tub and sank below the water.  Never would he forget that image.  Nor slouching on the steps to wait, hoping she’d invite him inside, when suddenly the door opened behind him and she yelled, “Sneaky peeper,” and dumped a pail full of bath water on him.

He’d caught her tight to his wet shirt.  “Marry me.”

“I will,” she whispered.

How had he let her slip away?

He searched through his grandfather’s books and settled on
Masterpieces of Mystery
by Edgar Allan Poe.  With a bottle of Jack Daniels and the book placed near the tub, he undressed and sank to his neck in the steaming water.  He thumbed though the book and stopped at “The Purloined Letter.”

At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the autumn of 18--, I was enjoying the twofold luxury of meditation and a meerschaum.

The cadence of the words hooked Bryan into the scene of three men puffing pipes and discussing a stolen letter.  Rain beat steadily on the roof as time slipped by.  He read, pitting his mind against C. Auguste Dupin, trying to figure out the hidden clue until Dupin said . . . .

At length my eyes, in going the circuit of the room, fell upon a trumpery filigree card-rack of pasteboard, that hung dangling by a dirty blue ribbon, from a little brass knob just beneath the middle of the mantel-piece.

Bryan chuckled at the simpleness of a letter hidden in plain sight and let the book slide to the floor.  What conspicuous clue had he missed in the person of TJ?  The opposing elements is his personality and physical makeup had no meaning as far as he could figure.  But, the boy needed a friend to help him out of either jail or flight.  Why did he care?  The son he didn’t have?  The student he hadn’t taught?  Then the forgotten longing he’d squelched in college rose with a sarcastic question.  If you wanted to teach children, why didn’t you?

Bryan toweled off and pulled the plug, letting the bath water flow into another of Grandpa’s clever inventions – a sluice in the floor.

The couch didn’t fit him like it used to, but was comfortable enough to drowse.  Teagan’s image taunted him until he mumbled, “If you wanted to marry Teagan, why didn’t you?”

The infernal cell phone jangled him awake.  He grappled for it, but it slid beneath the cushion.  He finally flipped it open.

“Bryan?”  His grandmother’s voice sounded hesitant.  “I know you want to be alone, but something weird happened.  I was raking wet leaves in the front yard and wishing for a healthy young man to come along and--”

“
I would’ve done it.”

“
You’ll never guess.  When I tried to rake them into the boulevard this angel appeared.  He asked if he could help.  I handed him the rake quick enough.”

“
Grandma?”

“
He threw me for a loop when he asked if I was moving.  Made me so nervous I hurried inside and locked the door, but then got to cursing myself for being such a suspicious old crab.  I took some money and walked back outside.  I told him to put the rake by the door when he was through and held the bills out for him to take.  You know what he said?”

Bryan tried to control his exasperation.  “Grandma, he might have been dangerous!”

“Let me finish.  The boy said he didn’t want money and called me Mrs. Winslow.”

“
He knew you?”

“
Nope.  He knew you.  It was TJ, the runaway hitchhiker.”

Bryan’s hand tightened on the phone.  “Did he hurt you?”

“Do I sound hurt?  He figured out who I was from the phone book and your big old U-haul setting in my driveway.”

“
I’ll come back to town right away.”

“
All he wanted was his pack and I told him the cops have it.”

“
Where is he now?”

“
Gone.  He seemed a good guy.”

Bryan exhaled.  “He ran from the cops.”

“He even told me he was sorry for making me nervous.  No way could I see criminal in any part of that boy when he walked away.  I wanted to call him back, but didn’t.  I was too tired to make the effort.”

“
He’s gone now?”

“
Didn’t I say that?  I’m glad you’re worried.  Do you good to think about something besides your divorce and whatever else is badgering you.”

The beauty of the Seattle sky at twilight meant nothing.  Instead, Teagan frantically checked through her picture window to the street below.  Pai should have returned hours ago, answered her phone, or called.  Teagan pressed her palm against the pit of her stomach to ease pricks from acidity.  If worry really did cause ulcers, she now understood why.

Jimmy fussed again, driven by hunger.

She scooped him up from the blanket on the floor where she’d placed both boys.  “Hush, little baby, your mother will be home soon.”  She fed him a bottle of sugar water and finally tried to nurse him, but didn’t have enough milk for two.  Thank God, Charlie was having a good day.  With two cranky babies on her hands, she might run away like Pai apparently had.

No, Teagan knew better; something felt wrong.  Her friend would never leave Jimmy.  She leaned her forehead against the windowpane, willing Pai to hurry, willing her to be all right.

Stately maples lined the parking area.  Teagan searched them too.  Where was the family of chickadees?  When she’d bought the condo, the bird-filled trees cinched the deal, and she watched them daily.  This time, she saw only a few sparrows pecking in the boulevard.  Even her favorite birds deserted her.

Waiting for Pai was worse than waiting for Mac’s boat when a thick cloud smothered Puget Sound, like the one when she was eleven years old.  It had been a thick soupy fog, damp enough to chill right through the woolen coat Mac had passed off to her.  She had sat shivering on the edge of the pier waiting, worrying if he and the others would safely dock or spend the night on the water.  Two days later, his boat finally rode the gentle rock of the water in his moorage.  Relief spurred Teagan and she ran down the pier.  Mac stepped out of the cabin and waved to her. 

“I thought you were lost,” she yelled.

“
I was, but you have found me.  Need help swabbing the deck if you want a job,” he said plainly; her wait was over and to forget about it.

But she couldn’t and yelled back at him, “I was really scared.”

“So was I.  Girl, some storms you just have to ride out.  This one just happened to be a fog too dense to navigate, couldn’t make out my nose.  I anchored off Neah Bay.  Came in when I could see again.

The phone on Teagan’s kitchen wall jangled.  She jumped and reached to answer it.  “Pai?”

“
It’s your mother.  You sound rushed.  Is the baby all right?”

“
We’re doing okay.”  Teagan sounded disappointed, knew it, and didn’t care.  

“
You don’t sound okay.”

“
I’m worried about a friend, and expecting a call.”

“
You have a
friend
again?”

Teagan took a deep breath.  “Not that kind of friend.  One of my friends from the clinic is having postnatal depression.”

“That’s nice.  Anyway, the sale meetings have been extended for another week.”

Teagan glanced at the ceiling for a long moment.  Her irritation receded.  “Your grandson wants to meet you.”

“We’ll have plenty of time after your father is finished.”

“
Let me know when you’re home.”  Teagan hung up, hating the disappointment.  No matter how independent she pretended to be, she yearned for a family that didn’t leave lonely, empty spots.

The doorbell shattered the silence.  “Yes!”  Relief surged through Teagan.  She ran for the door and threw the bolt.  “Where were . . .”

Doretta stood in the hall, weight resting on one side and holding Levi.  “Where’s what?”  She waltzed inside on long, shapely legs, and then stopped short, staring at the baby in Teagan’s arms.  “Why do you have Jimmy?”

“
Why aren’t you Pai?”

“
Skin color’s wrong.”  Doretta peered at her.  “Girl, you look worse than my last boyfriend when I said no.”

“
Pai went home for some things hours ago and hasn’t come back.”

“
I have to sit.”  Doretta graced a chair, moving Levi to her shoulder.  “Now, let me get this straight.  You let Pai disappear?”

Jimmy squalled in Teagan’s arms.  “Do you have enough milk to feed him?”

Doretta’s jaw dropped.  “You mean nurse him?”

“
I don’t mean cut up steak for him.”

“
You have to be kidding.”  Doretta shivered.

Teagan felt like thumping her.  “Then
you
stay here while I run to the market and buy formula.”

“
No.  Oh, don’t look at me like that.”  Doretta hugged Levi tight.  “What if something is out there stealing mommies and you don’t come back?”

Teagan grabbed her clutch purse and hurried through the door.  The elevator didn’t open fast enough so she ran the stairs two at a time.  She burst outside and dashed to the end of the block, dodged traffic, and ran up the next block.  At the far end, she darted into a mini mart.

The aisle with baby supplies held only two brands of formula.  Which would Pai use?  Grabbing a container of powdered Simalac, she hurried to the register.  Six people were lined in front of the counter waiting to pay for gas and snacks.

“
Sheesh,” Teagan mumbled under her breath and elbowed around a large woman to stand on the other side of the register.  She waved the formula.  “I only have this to buy,” she said.

The heavyset woman raised her brows and stayed planted like a giant redwood, gnarly and unmoving.

Teagan simply asked, “Have you ever tried to take care of someone else’s hungry baby?”

The checker reached across and took the formula and Teagan’s ten dollar bill.  “Good luck,” she called after Teagan.

Teagan ran hard up the hill.  What could’ve happened to Pai?  All kinds of dire things popped into her mind.  The one that kept returning was an auto accident involving Pai’s blue Honda and a black Blazer.  Please, please let her be all right.

Teagan rushed into her building, hit the stairs running and banged back inside the condo.

Charlie still napped on the blanket, Levi beside him, and Doretta was nursing Jimmy.  Serenity, like none other, graced her as she shared her nourishment, a gift of the earthy kind.  She nursed a child because the child hungered, a simple gesture that sustained life.  Her brown eyes locked on Teagan’s.  “Don’t ever leave me with a hungry baby again.”  Her words spit out like a captain chastising his crew, but her tone did not match the softness in her glowing countenance.  She was replete in her giving.

“
Don’t yell at me,” Teagan said, calmly.  “Just tell me what to do.  I’m worried sick.”

“
Call her apartment.”

“
I did, over and over.  All I get is the flippin’ answering machine.  I’ve tried her cell too, but it’s shut off.”

“
Well, there’s has to be a reason.”  Doretta thought a moment, and then straightened like a student with an answer.  “I bet the little scaredy-cat jumped ship.  She sounded more freaked out every time she called.”

Teagan agreed, but didn’t know whether to be angry or frightened.  The mother of a tiny baby was missing.  Yet she hesitated to call 911.  Pai was such a private person and would hate strangers prying into her life.  Surely, she’d show up any minute.  Both women jerked when the mantel clocked chimed.

“Shit,” Doretta muttered.  “I can’t stand waiting.”

“
You really think Pai deserted Jimmy?”

Doretta shrugged.  “Who can fathom the Asian mind?  Aren’t they the ones who leave babies to die?”

“I can’t believe you said that.”

“
Uh-oh, Jimmy, we riled the Irish temper, but it’s her fault.  She has me so damn upset.”  Doretta lifted him to her shoulder and patted his back.  His burp sounded unnaturally loud as the two women stared at each other, their eyes reflecting each others worry.

“
That’s it.  I’m calling the police.”  Teagan grabbed the phone from the end table, punched 911 with her thumb, and told the dispatcher exactly what happened.

“
You have the child?”  The dispatcher asked.

“
We’ve just fed him and he’s sleeping.”

“
I need names, not we.”

Teagan’s dander rose.  This was a damn crisis and the dispatcher should sound more urgent.  “I know something has happened.  Pai wouldn’t just leave her son.”

“Stay calm.  I need your names, addresses and what kind of car she’s driving.”

Teagan recited the addresses.  “She has a blue Honda Accord.  I don’t know what year or the license plate number.”

“I’ll dispatch an officer to her apartment.  Hang tight, we’ll be in touch.”

Teagan hung up, feeling somewhat relieved.  At least now, people were helping.  If Pai was perfectly all right and was embarrassed about the cops, so be it.

Doretta laid a full and satisfied Jimmy on the blanket alongside Levi and Charlie.  She watched them for a minute, and then glanced at Teagan.  “What’s to eat?”

“
Look at Levi.”  Teagan pointed.

Levi’s pudgy fist reached out and pushed on Jimmy’s cheek.  Charlie kicked and squirmed on the other side.

“They are too cute,” Teagan murmured before walking into the kitchen.  “Pai was going to make egg rolls.”

“
Sounds good.”

“
Pai, not me.  I don’t know how.”

“
Then get out of there and let me stir up some soul food.”

Teagan sank on the couch and listened to the clanks and bangs in the kitchen.  “I just hope they send a cop that really cares about a missing mom,” she muttered.