The Knitting Circle (32 page)

“Um,” Holly said, her heavily lined eyes gazing at the snowman’s changing colors. “No. Going to a party. I met this guy the other night? When you babysat?”

Mary lifted her eyebrows. “Really? That’s great.”

“Um,” Holly said again. “Yeah. So far. I haven’t told him yet. You know.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mary said. “Just have some fun.”

“Right,” Holly said. Her eyes shifted to Mary, then back to the snowman. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Did Eddie go home?”

Holly rolled her eyes. “He took Waylon to a fucking swimming lesson. I mean, the kid can’t even sit up yet.”

“Go on your date,” Mary said. “I’ll lock up.”

“Thanks,” Holly said, relieved. “He’s cute, this guy. Rocco.”

“Rocco?” Mary laughed.

“Yeah. He kissed me and it was like, zap! You know?”

“You be careful,” Mary said. “Zap got you in trouble.”

Unexpectedly, Holly gave her a quick fierce hug. “Thank you,” she said. “I left you something at my desk,” she added when she let go.

“Like a Christmas present?” Mary said.

Holly brightened. “Yeah,” she said. “Like a Christmas present.”

“But the party’s not until tomorrow.”

Holly shrugged helplessly. Then she walked away quickly, the heels of her boots tapping against the hardwood floor.

It wasn’t until after Mary heard the ding of the elevator arriving to take Holly away to her date that she wondered who was babysitting Jasper. Maybe Holly’s sister had agreed to do it. If it were possible, her sister Heather was even less reliable than Holly herself. She didn’t even like to hold Jasper. “Too squirmy,” she’d said. “Makes me itchy, like I’m holding a worm or something.”

Mary unplugged her snowman and put on her coat and the gloves she’d knit. That was what everyone was getting for Christmas this year. Just last night, she’d laid them all out on the dining room table, a dozen pairs of wool tweed gloves in rich jewel colors, topaz and garnet and emerald and amethyst. Her own pair was a deep ruby with flecks of pink and purple.

In the outer office, the silver aluminum tree with pom-pom-tipped branches glittered in the fluorescent lighting. Eddie had brought it in the other day in a long skinny box that smelled of mothballs. Mary and Holly had helped him stand up its spine and stick the branches into its holes. They’d hung blue balls on every branch. Those balls reflected Mary’s own face now, distorting it. She hit one lightly, watching it spin.

Eddie’s CD was playing a song by Tiny Tim now, and Mary happily turned it off. After she checked that all the doors were locked, she stood in the silent office a moment and watched the fake tree glisten before she flicked off the overhead lights and went out to the elevator.

One came quickly. But as soon as the door slid open she remembered that Holly had left her something. She could just get it tomorrow, she supposed. But Holly seemed so fragile lately that Mary was afraid she’d be disappointed if she came to work in the morning and saw that Mary had left the present there, unopened.

Mary dug the keys from her coat pocket and went back, unlocking the two locks on the main door, then flicking on the lights again. They hummed, then blinked on. For some reason, the tree had lost its glitter and looked ridiculous, a stick with peeling aluminum branches and chipped blue ornaments.

Mary remembered that when she bought the snowman, she’d seen one of those old color wheels, the ones that looked like a Trivial Pursuit playing piece, all filled in with colored wedges. You plugged it in, and it splashed color across trees like this one. She decided she’d buy it for Eddie’s Christmas present and give it to him at the party tomorrow. She’d already bought too many Baby Einstein products for Waylon, but this gift was too perfect to pass up. In fact, she’d go to the store on her way home.

For now, though, she didn’t see any present on Holly’s desk. Just the usual chaos of papers and Post-its and tubes of cheap lipstick. Holly had probably taken the thing with her. Mary could sympathize with her spaciness. She remembered too well how a new baby seemed to gobble up your brain cells. That, combined with lack of sleep, had left her in a fog. A pleasant fog for Mary. But Holly was doing it alone, and working full-time.

Something caught Mary’s eye on the floor behind Holly’s desk. A big red bow. She hoped Holly hadn’t spent too much money on her, an extravagant thank-you for babysittng for free. That would be like Holly. She could barely pay her rent but she still bought expensive shoes and vintage clothes. She probably went overboard on presents too.

Mary walked around the desk and wheeled the chair out of the way.

“Holy shit!” she said.

There, asleep in his jumpy seat, was Jasper. Taped to the top of the seat was a card with a big red bow.

Careful not to wake the baby, Mary leaned over and quietly pulled off the card. On the front was a candy cane with cat hair stuck all over it. Despite the fact that Holly had just left her baby with Mary, she smiled. Holly’s entire apartment was covered in cat hair.

Underneath the printed holiday message inside, Holly had written:

You’re a good mother. I know. I saw you do it. And I suck at this. Why should someone like you be deprived of your baby? Why should someone like me deserve one? Keep him. Make sure he knows I love him but I just couldn’t do it. I know you’ll do better. Your Friend, Holly Patterson

“Holy shit,” Mary said again, after she’d read the note three times to be sure she understood it.

She grabbed the phone and punched in Holly’s cell phone number. But she didn’t answer. Of course. Mary tried to think straight, glancing nervously at the sleeping baby. Who had Holly gone off with? Bruno somebody? No. Rocco. Rocco without a last name. Or maybe he was just a ruse for Holly to get out and leave Jasper behind while Mary was still here.

Mary flipped through Holly’s Rolodex until she found her sister Heather’s phone number.

Heather answered right away, sounding as if she just woke up.

“Heather? It’s Mary Baxter.”

“Who?”

“Mary? I work with Holly?”

“Oh. Uh-huh,” Heather said.

Mary wasn’t convinced Heather remembered her, or even knew where Holly worked. “I need to find Holly. Have you spoken to her?”

“Yeah,” Heather said through a yawn. Then, to someone else,

“It’s some lady looking for my sister.”

“Heather?” Mary said impatiently. “Do you know where she is?”

“Aruba?”

“What!” Mary said. Then, hopefully, she said, “You’re not talking to me, are you?”

“Yeah. I’m telling you. She went to Aruba. Or maybe Barbados. One of those islands. I get them mixed up.”

That explained the light clothing she’d been wearing.

“Do you mean she’s gone already?” Mary said.

She was practically shouting. Jasper stirred. He crunched up his face and she held her breath. But he just relaxed it again and continued to sleep.

“She met this guy a couple weeks ago and his friend has a house on the beach in like Tobago or somewhere,” Heather was saying.

Mary sunk into the swivel chair, pressing the phone hard to her ear.

“Tobago?” she said.

Heather laughed. “Somewhere like that.”

“Heather?” Mary said. “I’m going to give you my phone number, okay? I desperately need to talk to Holly. If she calls—”

“Do they have phones down there?”

“Yes, they have phones,” Mary said. Knowing it was useless, she very slowly told Heather her number. “Can you repeat it back to me?” Mary said.

“Uh,” Heather said. “Two-seven-three?”

“Two-seven-two,” Mary said, clenching her jaw.

She repeated the number again, but before she could make Heather say it back to her, Heather said, “Got it. Bye,” and hung up.

Mary placed the phone back in its cradle. When she glanced down at Jasper, he was awake. He stared at her calmly with his dark blue eyes.

She bent and unclasped the buckle on the safety strap, then lifted him out of the seat and into her arms. Mary felt his wet diaper against her arm. No diaper bag. No car seat. Nothing. Jasper was studying her as if he was waiting for further instructions.

“Okay, buddy,” Mary said. “Let’s go.”

Settling the baby on one hip, she picked up the bouncy seat and tucked it against the other. Slowly, awkwardly, she made her way out of the office toward home.

A MOTHER DOES not forget how to be a mother. Like riding a bicycle many years later, or the way your feet remember how to waltz, when a mother is handed a baby she knows what to do.

For Mary, this maternal memory came with an ache that had dulled somewhat over all these months. The heft of a baby in her arms, the acrid smell of baby wipes, the funny wet sounds a baby makes, the toothless grins, the way a baby’s face crumples in on itself before he breaks into tears, all of it brought back memories of mothering Stella. And with those memories came the pain of loss all over again.

Still, she had to tend Jasper. Holly had left her no choice. She needed diapers, formula, baby things. Who knew how to take care of a baby? Without thinking, Mary picked up the phone and called Dylan.

He came right away. At first, they had stood awkwardly together in the kitchen. But when Mary held Jasper to her chest and Dylan made a list of what he needed to get, a sense of routine and familiarity settled over them.

At the door, the list in his gloved hand, Dylan paused to watch Mary with the baby.

“What?” she said harshly when she saw him still there.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

She frowned at him. “Happy?” she said sarcastically.

“I’m not—” he began, but Mary turned from him.
Get out!
she thought, regretting that she had called him for help. She should have called Ellen. Or Scarlet. Or anyone.

While Dylan went to buy diapers and bottles and formula, Mary played with Jasper and simultaneously tried to find Holly. Ridiculously, she left messages on Holly’s home answering machine and cell phone. She called Heather, dialing her number again and again even as a busy signal beeped at her each time.

Before Dylan came back with any of the supplies, Jasper began to howl in that way that only babies have. He opened his mouth into a perfect O and wailed a shrill, sirenlike wail that appeared to have no end.

Mary picked him up and walked him, pressed against her chest. Back and forth, patting his back, making soothing sounds he could not hear over his screams.

The phone rang, cutting through Jasper’s howls.

“Mary!” her mother’s voice shot into the room. “I want you to know I’m coming for Christmas. I’m coming to spend the holiday with you.” She paused. “A mother should be with her daughter at Christmastime,” Mamie said.

As if he understood the importance of what Mamie was saying, Jasper quieted for a moment.

“Mom,” Mary began, but the word seemed to take on a new meaning and Mary was unable to continue.

“One more thing,” her mother added, “Francisco is coming too. Remember him? The handsome doctor with the mustache? Don’t worry. I already booked us a B and B on Benefit Street. See you soon, honey.
¡Feliz Navidad!
”

“Francisco?” Mary shot at the telephone.

Jasper began to scream again. “Stop crying,” Mary said to Jasper. “Please.”

Thankfully, Dylan came in with two big shopping bags.

“Diapers,” Dylan said as he pulled a package from one bag.

Mary grabbed the diapers and immediately began to change Jasper’s wet one.

“Wipes,” Dylan said. “Onesies. And here’s a rattle. A book. A blanket. A stuffed monkey.”

Mary stopped, her hands firmly holding Jasper’s ankles to lift his legs in the air. Dylan had handed Jasper a ring of bright plastic keys, and the baby shook them maniacally. The table was full of all the things a family needed to take care of a baby. Mary surveyed the toys and tiny onesies with the snaps up the inner legs and the bottles with the blue bears and red hearts and fire trucks. Then she looked at Dylan. He took a step toward her, and then another. Jasper shook the keys even harder, giggling.

The image of Stella as a small perfect baby filled Mary and she doubled over from its clarity.

“Ssshhh,” Dylan was saying.

But if he was speaking to her, or the baby, Mary wasn’t sure.

“WE NEED TO find Holly,” Mary told Eddie.

He was wearing a weird Santa hat. Red felt, like most of them, and trimmed in white. But instead of rising to a pompommed point, the top of this hat was a red spring that wobbled every time Eddie moved his head. It made Mary seasick to watch.

“Maybe Jessica and I should take him,” Eddie said.

Mary watched Jessica in the small group of guests at the Christmas party. She wore an elaborate sling that looked like something tribal. It held Waylon so that he faced out but could still hear her heartbeat. “Very important,” Jessica had explained.

“I don’t think that would work,” Mary said.

“What the fuck was she thinking?” Eddie said, his hat bouncing.

“Holly? Thinking?” Mary said.

“Right,” Eddie said.

They both looked down at Jasper. Dylan had bought him a red-and-white-candy-cane-striped onesie, and he lay in his bouncy seat, kicking his striped feet happily.

“I mean,” Eddie said, “you just don’t give someone a baby.”

“We have to find her,” Mary said again, trying not to sound desperate.

“Absolutely,” he said.

ON THE NIGHT Big Alice’s Sit and Knit was finally reopening, it was one week before Christmas, one week since Mary’s Secret Santa gift had turned out to be Jasper, and still no word from Holly. The last time Mary had spoken to her, Heather told her that she was “ninety-nine percent sure” that Holly had gone to Cancún.

“Cancún?” Mary had said. “That’s not an island. You said she went to an island.”

“Curaçao?” Heather had offered.

Alice was having a knitting circle tonight, the first one in the new store. Scarlet was bringing a bûche de Noël and Ellen was making homemade eggnog. Mary’s job was to bring paper plates and napkins and she had bought blue ones covered in white snowflakes.