Maternal Harbor (7 page)

“Lemme go!” she screeched, thrashing her fat legs.

He pried at her fingers.

Clenching tighter, she spewed blue filth, reviling him with every conceivable curse word.  She tried to twist away, spat at him.

He jerked from her saliva and managed to pull the bills from her fist.

“Dammit,” she shrieked.  “I need that money.  Give it back and I'll let you take the rifle.”

Bryan shook the cash at her.  “No way.”

“But you said you'd buy it.”

“
You ding bat.  You just tried to rob me.  I should call the cops.”

Her eyes watered.  “I got scared about what Billy Bob would do when he found it gone.”  Her double chin trembled, mascara ran under her eyes.

“You're scared of your own son?”

She blinked and snuffed.  “
I’m
the one who raised him.”

Bryan laughed.  “I see what you mean.  Okay, I'll give you two choices.  One, take the rifle out of the trunk.  Two, hand it to me.”

“No way.  Then you'll have the money and the rifle.”

“
I'll stick the money under the tire.”  Stupid idea, he told himself, but figured he could win a tussle with the woman if necessary.  “You give me the rifle and I'll leave the money.”

She nodded.

Bryan tucked the bills as far under the rear tire as he could.

The woman heaved out like a walrus.  She brought the key and worked herself between Bryan and the money before unlocking the trunk.  “All right, get it out,” she said.

“You’re kidding.  Hand it to me.”

She scowled, but did like he said and also handed over a box of cartridges.  “Don't shoot yourself with it.”  She reached for the money.

He jammed his foot against it and the tire.  “You don't get the money until I have a paper saying you sold me the rifle.”

Her massive chest vibrated outrage.  “I don't have a stupid receipt book!”

Keeping his foot tight against the money and tire, Bryan retrieved his checkbook from his hip pocket and tore out a deposit slip.  “Write on the back.”  He handed her a pen from his shirt pocket.

She slammed the trunk closed and laid the slip on it.  She pressed the paper smooth and wrote. 
I sold this Kar 98 Carbine to
.  She raised her eyes.  “Who the hell are you?”

“
It says Bryan Winslow on the other side.”

She turned it over, squinted, then wrote his name, dated it and signed,
Elsa Hatton
.

Bryan removed his foot from the money.

Elsa snatched the bills, stuffed them down her cleavage and scrambled into the car with amazing agility for someone who struggled to get out.

“
You treat your mother like this?” she asked, holding the door open.

“
Every time she tries to steal my money.”

Elsa slammed the door, gunned the accelerator, and dropped the gearshift into drive.  She wiggled her fingers
goodbye
and drove away.

Bryan turned to TJ, who’d watched from the shade.  “You coming?”

TJ moseyed over and threw his pack in the back seat.  “Old broad was kinda hard on ya, wasn’t she?”  He opened the passenger door.  “Thought she’d win.”

Bryan exhaled loudly.  Life should be easier without his ex, but if this was easy, he just might shoot himself.  He placed the Mauser on the rear seat beside TJ’s bag.

Through the fog of a contented drowse, Teagan became aware.  Her eyes opened enough to see a plump, handsome nurse framed in the light of the doorway.  Florene Johnson carried a baby wrapped tightly in a receiving blanket.  “This is
Charles O’Riley
.  Any relation to you?”  She pushed a button to raise the bed into a sitting position and laid Charlie into Teagan’s outstretched arms.

Teagan drew him close, breathing in the precious scents of baby oil and newness.  His wrinkled, slippery birth image was forever marked in her memory.  This first picture of him swaddled in a soft blanket and a knit cap would last as long.

Florene busied herself by straightening the bedside table.  Gentle pleasure encompassed her wholesome face.

“
You’re looking mighty pleased,” Teagan said.  “Doretta had her baby.”

A grin spread.  “Ten pounds of lusty boy.”

Teagan knew that particular expression.  “I can’t get over how much Doretta looks like you.”

“
She’s my baby girl, but the mischief dancing in those eyes belongs to her daddy.”  Florene placed her right hand on her hip.  “Does my new grandbaby’s daddy have sparkin’ eyes?”

“
You fox.  Doretta hasn’t told me either.”

Florene deflated like a fresh hospital sheet settling on a bed.  “Well, I tried.  Are you ready to feed this hungry boy?” 

Suckling on his fist, he ignored Teagan as she tried to guide him to her breast.  He needed to eat and that was that.

“
It’s easy, girl.  Just hold his mouth close to your nipple and he’ll do the rest.” 

Teagan couldn’t believe the sensation.  Smarting tugs, and then in the midst of the hurtful pulling, a different kind of maternal love grew and deepened with each drawing of her nourishment.  She gladly bore the pain for Charlie, but mumbled, “Holding a bottle wouldn’t hurt like this does.”

“Lordy, don’t we know.  But mother’s milk is best and your nipples will toughen.”

Under Florene’s gentle encouragement, Teagan nursed Charlie on both sides, then carefully moved him to her shoulder and patted his back.  She slipped her pinkie finger under Charlie’s curled ones.  He grasped and held on.  She gently rubbed the back of his tiny hand with her thumb.  He was so fragile and dependent.  His fingers uncurled, and she stroked his wrinkled forehead and feathered her fingertips across the soft spot on the top of his head.  Instantly, she trembled with a surge of protectiveness.  As Florene lifted Charlie from her arms, she promised, “Little boy, I’ll guard you well.”

“He’s going to be fine.  I’ll be right back and take you on your first walk.  Fun trip is down the hall to see all the babies.”  Florene bustled out the door, carrying Charlie away.

Teagan’s breath caught and she pressed her palms against her heart.  Charlie was too far away.  She sat up too fast.  The room spun.  She clutched the mattress with both hands, keeping balanced, waiting for the dizziness to pass.  She needed to be more careful.  What if she fell and broke a leg?  The thought came as a surprise.  She never considered her safety before.

She eased from the bed, slipped on her robe and walked down the hallway as quickly as her sore body allowed.  Her skin grew clammy and knees weakened.  She stopped and placed a hand on the wall for support.  A woman stood at the observation window to the nursery, staring at the newborns.  Her short blonde hair gleamed under the florescent lighting.  A black tailored maternity suit covered her lanky body.  She seemed lost as she gazed at the babies.

Teagan drew near, knowing she hadn’t been heard.  “Erica,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

Erica jumped and spun around.

A chill chased down Teagan’s neck.  Pai had been right. 
Too blue
described the glint in Erica’s eyes.  Was it fever?  Was it possessive?

Erica smiled.  “What great names you’ve all picked.  Doretta’s Levi could be nothing but strength.  Look at Ji Min’s wide brow.  It clearly predicts an unusual intelligence.  And Charles, what a survivor he’ll be.”

“Such strange observations.”  Teagan caught something in the stiffness of Erica’s spine, in the hardness of thin lips, in the unreadable depths of her pupils.  Apprehension nudged again.  This time, Teagan didn’t ignore it.  “I’m sorry, Erica, but between Charlie and my shop, I’ll be too busy for weekly get-togethers at your place.”  There, she said it firmly, leaving no doubt she meant what she said.

Erica held her fists tightly to her sides, shoulders back, chin high.  “Why spoil our plans?  There are ways to free up time.  I’ll bet that after a few days at home alone, you’ll need us, like we need you.”  She seemed to expect obedience.

Teagan reached out.  “I’ve upset you, and don’t mean to.”

Erica turned back to the observation window.  “They’re really something,” she said in a tone so distant, it was like no one was expected to hear her.

She is alone too much, too, Teagan thought.  “Your baby will be amazing.”

“
I’m in early stage labor now.” 

Dismayed at the lack of concern, Teagan asked, “Should I call a nurse?”

“No, there’s time.”  She continued to gaze at the babies.

Teagan could think of nothing more to say.  She stepped to one side to see Charlie in his bassinet.

Erica turned even more, blocking Teagan’s view.  Her glacial eyes slid away from the babies.  “You look worn out,” she stated flatly.

“
I am, but I want to check on Charlie and see Doretta’s baby.”

“
Go get some rest.  I’ll keep watch over them.”

“
How much longer do you plan to stay?”

“
I’m not in any hurry.”

Well, that did it.  Teagan did not feel right about leaving Erica to stare at her son.  No one should do that.  She motioned at the nurse’s aide and explained Charlie would stay with her and was sure Doretta wanted the same.  The aide agreed to bring him as soon as she could.

Teagan pressed her palm against the glass separating her from Charlie for a moment, and then left Erica gazing at the babies.

Twice, she glanced back.

Erica listened for Teagan’s shuffle to fade.  “They’re superb,” she whispered to her son.  “An African-American, an Asian, and an Irishman, all chosen to be your perfect friends.”

She caught a final glimpse of Teagan, disappearing into a room.  The bitch wasn’t much.  Nothing stood out as remarkable except she was sharper than expected and with more backbone.  That was good.  Charlie needed a clever, stubborn mother, not a wishy-washy beauty.  She was probably attractive to men with all that red hair and high-placed breasts.

Go figure, Erica thought.  Well, Miss Teagan O’Riley would not ruin anything.

The longer she stared at Teagan’s door, the more anxious she became.  Her goals for Derek would not be changed.  Granted, many years stretched ahead to make even better plans, but it’d be hard enough adjusting to infant care without worrying about meeting other mothers.  Selection of proper companions must become second nature.  She would learn for Derek, and he would learn the art from her.  He needed skills to detect officers who were shirking their duty.  Oh, they were good at covering up their lazy backsides and clever at cutting corners.

Erica breathed deeply, holding back, not charging up the hallway.

Doretta shuffled through her door in an impossibly loud wrap, crossed the hall and disappeared into Teagan’s room!

They’re going to talk about me, she thought.  Livid, she managed to hesitate until she calmed, and then stole up the hallway, stopped next to the doorway, and leaned casually against the wall.

Teagan’s voice carried outside.  “I don’t want to hurt Erica either.  But when I found her staring at the babies, I felt like I was in an ocean fog – hard to catch your breath, yet the air is pure.”

“That’s as clear as mud.”  Doretta’s sarcasm also carried.

Teagan now sounded impatient.  “You know.  Like something is there, but isn’t.”

Well, I’m here.  Erica moved inside the room. 

Doretta sat in a chair.  She uncrossed her legs.

Teagan rose instantly from the bed and faced Erica. 

Surprised, Erica hadn’t realized how tall Teagan was.  Or did she stand straighter now that she was a mother?  She seemed stronger, too.  Forearms corded and hands used to hard work.  The silk robe slipped from one square shoulder, showing the pale skin under a smattering of freckles.  She didn’t move, but exuded instant defense.

Erica let the silence stand between them as they searched each other’s eyes, then said, “I understand why you don’t have time to bring Charlie over, but he could come with Doretta.  That would even help you out, wouldn’t it, Doretta?”

Teagan spoke before Doretta had a chance to answer, “When I saw you watching the babies, I felt afraid.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it is new mother jitters, but Charlie will only be with me.”

Before any more damage was done, Erica said calmly, “Fear is a harsh way to describe someone who cares about your son, but I understand that you are over protective now.  We’ll discuss it again in a few weeks.  I would give you a hug, but I’m not the hugging type.”  She nodded to Doretta and left as quickly as she entered.

Those boys would be Derek’s.  He’d have something besides wet, dead kittens.  Erica shied from the thought as her fingers again felt the tiny bones.  But, oh, what perfect kittens they had been, as perfect as their mother, my beautiful Iska.  What’s the matter with me?  She pressed her cold fingertips against her temples and walked out of the hospital.

Throughout the afternoon, Erica’s contractions strengthened until they progressed into an unrelenting pattern.  She withstood the accelerating agony until it tore at her pelvic bones.  Gritting her teeth, she drove herself to the hospital in the Mercedes, hoping the cushy seat would relieve the pain in her back.  And she didn’t want to chance being seen in the Blazer yet.  Stop it!  Why are you so secretive?

Because you always hide your treasures
,
makes them totally yours– yours–yours.

Erica listened to the tranquil voice in her mind and grew calm.  The labor pain in her back eased.  Even as the cramp subsided, she wanted another to start.  They would bring forth the son.  A thrill chased through her.

Home with Derek. 

Carrying her overnight bag, she entered the birthing center erect and girded for battle.  Her son would be delivered safely.  She registered at admitting, was told to wait in the lobby and that a nurse would come for her soon.

Erica eased into a padded chair and closed her eyes, wanting to stay alert and not give in to agony.  She rode the next labor pain by concentrating on the remembered sound of the mother cat, her hearing tuned into the depth of the guttural humming.  She had grown highly sensitive to sound.  Riding the birth pangs with the same degree of alertness kept her keen and highly aware of the hospital waiting room.  The odors were disgustingly sterilized, the lighting too bright, and the corners should be cleaner.

“
Are you all right?”

Erica opened her eyes.  “I am.”

“I’m Florene,” said a plump black woman.

“
Doretta’s mom.”

“
My, it’s a small world.  I bet you’re one of those gals from the clinic.  Doretta told me you’re all friends now.  Can you walk or do we need a wheelchair?”

“
I’m fine.”  Erica walked beside the nurse down a hall to a labor room.

“
We’ll get you all tucked in,” Florene said and handed her a gown.  “Do you need help undressing?”

“
No.”  Erica gritted her teeth at the sweetness.  She was here for one reason only – to birth a son.  She didn’t want niceties, or to be expected to give them.  And, at this minute, she wanted privacy to disrobe.

“
I’ll leave you then.  Be sure to empty your bladder before getting into bed.”  Florene hurried to the door.

Another contraction tightened around Erica’s middle.  She bent double and exhaled until she hung over her belly like a rag doll, waiting for the torment to pass.  The cramp lasted longer than the last one, but finally eased.  She undressed and put on the gown.  Her water broke when she used the toilet.  “Not long now,” she whispered to her unborn son and sunk her fingers deep into her flesh.  She pressed, trying to identify his body under her skin.  All she felt was a hard mound.

Holding the back of the gown shut, she forced herself to stand erect and walk to the bed, concentrating on each sound that carried into the room.  Footfalls, wheels of a cart, a baby cried somewhere.

The nurse briskly reentered.  “Not tucked in yet?  Here, I’ll help you.”

Ignoring Florene’s outstretched hand, Erica curled into a ball in the bed with her back to the nurse.

“
I’m sorry, but I need to examine you.”

Erica groaned, but rolled onto her back and pulled the gown up.

“Honey, you’ve already dilated to five centimeters.  I better start your IV and attach the fetal heart monitor.  That way we can to listen to your baby’s heartbeat, see how he’s handling the stress of labor.”