Issue 153 Is Online!

search index
of all issues

Search This Site Enter word(s) to search for:

Tuesday, as I was buttering a Pyrex casserole in the kitchen, I noticed the baby pulling herself up to stand in the living room. She let go of the arm of the couch, reached toward the rubber plant, took a step, swayed, then went gracefully to all fours.

There was a knock at the door. Surely not a salesman at this hour.

I went in and snatched Sammy up. "You'll like this walking thing," I said and plunked her in the highchair with a Digestive Biscuit.

I went down the hall and opened the door. A man in a suit - must be a Jehovah's Witness. I was about to tell him I followed my own path when he said, "Melannie June Dobson?" I nodded.

He pushed in, not taking his shoes off. I thought - they've sent a lawyer, it's happened.

I ran back to the kitchen and yanked Sammy up before he could reach her. Holding her on my hip, I told him I was busy getting supper for a house full of people and I couldn't stop to talk.

He stood in the kitchen doorway. He'd seen what he wanted to see.

Sam started her happy bounce. The front door opened and Jim, one of the housemates, came in with a stack of papers he dumped on the hall table. I hadn't heard the Volkswagen drive in.

"I represent Francis Harvey who is charging you with kidnapping," the man said, to me.

Jim hung his jacket on the coat rack, retied his pony tail. "And just who is Francis Harvey?"

The guy continued to look at Sam. He said Francis Harvey had the rightful claim to this baby.

"What, is someone else trying to rescue the baby's mother?" Jim asked. The guy ignored him.

Jim circled through the living room to the kitchen. He held his arms out and took Sammy. I grabbed the cheese I'd cut before the doorbell rang, and started grating it for tonight's Enchanted Broccoli Forest. This lawyer fellow shouldn't have been wearing navy with that dandruff.

Jim swung Sam down and walked her between his feet. "You may not be aware of this, but we have grounds to charge the baby's mother with abandoning her child. If we knew how to find her," he said. "It's also in the hospital records that the mother showed no response to ..."

"I'm here to serve Melannie June Dobson." The man thrust an envelope at my cheese-covered hands. It was instinct - I should never have taken it.

"Can you tell us the whereabouts of Louise? Maybe she'd like to see the smart little girl she walked out on," Jim said.

We waited. Jim was here when we took sodden, smelly Louise in off the street. We got her into a bath and clean clothes, and a few days later she proceeded to give birth to a preemie.

The guy wasn't talking. Jim's joy in arguing was not helping here. "Jim, would you clean Samantha up for supper?"

Our eyes tangled a moment. He shrugged, then hoisted Sam and squeezed by the man.

My shoulders relaxed. "If that's it, would you please leave?" I asked. Jim's girls would be home any minute, with four other housemates not far behind.

I watched the man go, then went back to cooking. This was not the time to think about losing my baby. I pushed that black pit way down, and began standing broccoli trees in the casserole.

When the kids were asleep, I called a meeting with Jim and another housemate, Emily. Sam's mother, Louise, was one of Emily's - crashers who stole our hearts and liquor and food money and then disappeared. I put on the new Beatles LP, Yellow Submarine, and Jim put on the kettle.

It was a year since Louise arrived - without so much as an empty wallet. She couldn't grasp the mechanics of running a washing machine or making a sandwich. We never knew she was pregnant until she went into labour.

Emily set a bowl of caramel corn on the coffee table. Her teased-up hair had a flat side that looked like she'd been napping, but I didn't say anything.

"I need a good lawyer," I said. "Oh, Sammy took her first step."

"That's far out," Emily said. She tossed a piece of corn in the air and caught it in her mouth.

"Counter-sue," Jim said. "That'll get their attention." *** I awoke at dawn, in some dream panic, to the sound of someone turning on the shower. It got me to work early, which was good. I was still learning - my first job, youth worker at the Y. Lucky for me, they had one of those new daycare programs right in the building.

I dropped Sam off and went to find Ina before she opened the front desk. Ina could make me see that nothing was too big to get through.

Ina was writing up messages from the night's phone calls. I asked if she could talk a minute.

"Let me get someone for the phones," she said.

Ina arrived at my office with two mugs of dark coffee - the kind she cut her teeth on in Vienna. "What?" she asked. "I have eight minutes before people start coming in the front door."

"Sam's not officially adopted," I said.

She raised her eyebrows. We drank. I took a deep breath.

"Some do-gooder has taken in Sam's space-cadet mother. They want a baby - to transform them into a cozy little family or something." Ina looked interested, not worried. "And?" she asked. "Know any good lawyers?"

"I must do some research," she said. "And before that, we both have work."

She was right - I had meetings, calls, letters. I ate over paperwork and didn't see Sammy all day. On my way to pick her up, I remembered the invitation I had for Ina, to Sam's first birthday. Ina and her husband. With my folks across the country, they stood in as grandparents. They already had a trust fund for their girl.

Mental note: pick up balloons and some snacky groceries before Saturday.

At the daycare, Sam's buddy clung to the slide as his father tried to capture his arms in a jacket. I waved. One of the workers walked by and I asked if Sam was in the change room. I needed to get home. Jim's thirteen-year old, Sadie, was cooking tonight. My job was to set the table, and make sure she got help without being obvious. What was the worker saying?

"... Francis. He said you sent him to pick her up ..."

Francis. I turned to her. Francis - the guy who said he had the rightful claim to the baby. Words sinking in.

"Francis ... to pick her up?" I looked at this young woman. She was saying that someone came to pick up Sammy. Someone named Francis, came here, and picked her up. Took her out of daycare. I brushed my hair back.

He took Sam, in her overalls and sweater. Walked right out the door with her. She's not here.

"Just before nap time ..." The worker looked uncertain. Parents were coming and going with kids all around us.

"A man?"

She nodded. I could see she was needed elsewhere. She couldn't go, though, because something was wrong. Something that already happened. Francis Harvey took my baby.

"Did he take her diaper bag?"

She shook her head, fetched the knapsack for me. I looked in --dirty overalls and used diapers and empty bottles. I pulled it to me. How far would he go?

I turned and walked into the lobby. Ina was gone.

Jim found me standing on our porch. "You waiting for something?" he asked.

I looked at him. I'd been day dreaming - rushing into strange houses, smashing into parked cars, tearing Sam away from men with dandruff and running, running, running for home.

"They took Sam," I said. ***

Sadie rang the dinner bell and we all made our way to the kitchen table. She set out soy burgers and coleslaw. I spread catsup and relish on my bun and reached for sliced tomatoes. Sam's chair was pulled up to the table. There were nights when she was asleep at supper time.

Jim cleared his throat. "Sam is away for a bit," he said.

I put my hands over my mouth. My stomach slithered down a sand dune. He should have waited. But he didn't, he was starting to tell the story. Everyone stopped eating.

"Shit," Emily said. "I have a seminar. I suppose you can't wait till I get home to go get her."

"We don't know where she is," I said. Fighting for breath. "It's - complicated."

Sadie put her burger down. Jim gave her a Dad look.

"We'll get her back," he said. "Meanwhile, you girls have supper, then homework." Next to me, Liza burst into tears.

"Liza. Pumpkin." I put my arm around her. "Your dad's right, they can't keep her."

We finally called supper off. Jim pointed the girls to the living room for homework and started clearing the table. Everyone else looked relieved to get out of the kitchen.

"They've been planning this for awhile," Jim said. "It's a strategy game. They knew where you lived, and where Sam was during the day."

I dropped a cup. Pieces skittered everywhere.

"Time to call in the police," Jim said. The girls appeared.

"I can't."

"You can draw up adoption papers. Who could contest that you're her parent?"

"It's not that simple. When she was born I ..."

I would deal with it. I said that at the time. I asked every kid at the drop-in, for months, but no one had seen Louise. We didn't even have a last name. Jim was waiting.

"Do you think we could go over there? Find this Francis Harvey?" Sadie clutched my arm. Jim started to speak but I held up my hand. Turned so they couldn't see my nose going red, and took the envelope off the fridge. Opened it. There was the address: 53 Mimosa Crescent. I laid it on the table.

Jim dug around the junk drawer and extracted a map. No Mimosa Crescent.

"Call Waterloo Cab," I said. "They'll know where it is."

He picked up the phone. We went to get jackets. Liza ran upstairs, and came back down clutching Sammy's Brownie Bear. I ran up, then, for a diaper bag.

Mimosa was in a new suburb on the East side. "Maybe all we can do is find out if she's OK," I said. Make sure someone is feeding her. Changing her. I couldn't say holding her. Tomorrow, we'll find a lawyer who can get her back for us." How long would that take? What if ...

I tried to picture Louise playing with Sammy. Nothing came.

"What are you going to do when we get there?" Jim asked.

"Knock," I said. "On the front door."

"Take Brownie Bear," Sadie said. "She needs Brownie Bear."

"They might take him and shut the door," Jim said.

Liza started crying again.

Oh, I'll just get a gun and shoot them, I thought. Then I'll pick up my baby and go home.

In the twilight, we reached a subdivision of not-quite-finished houses, some with mud and weeds and some with lawns and gardens. My fists clenched at the sign for Mimosa. Fifty-three was a grey-brick ranch with mud and weeds. There were lights on.

No one answered my knock. Controlling the impulse to kick in the door, I tried the knob. It turned. I had to see her, hear her.

I shut the door, and walked through the entryway. Follow the light. Through a sparsely furnished living room into the kitchen. Dirty dishes piled.

Three stairs to the back door and a landing. Carpeted stairs to a finished basement.

I heard Sam, somewhere in that basement, her little abandoned cry.

Then I was down the stairs and she was in my arms and there was no force that could remove her. I inhaled her hair, pulled her tighter. She had been sitting alone in front of a large, pink bear.

Someone had been upstairs, I heard carpeted footsteps coming down behind me. Someone who would leave a baby sitting alone in the basement room. I didn't want to see this person.

Sam struggled. I was squashing the kid. Relax, don't scare her. I held her out. She stared at me, eyes wet. These idiots only cared about the principle, not the baby. What if they hurt her?

Sam folded in against me and I rocked her. "Oh Sweetie, it's OK now," I whispered. I flicked my eyes around just enough to see it was a man, standing at the foot of the stairs. The enemy.

I had no strategy. The man blocked the only escape, up the stairs. Jim would come in after us.

I scoped out my surroundings. Beige shag carpet. One colonial couch. Large TV. Midway bear. Hallway going off to the right.

My neck prickled. "If you call the police," I said to the man, "she will go to a foster home. No one will tell either of us where she is. It will totally disrupt her life." Come on, Jim!

"You took a child who doesn't belong to you. It is our right to raise her."

It was a house, not an apartment - it must be a family that took Louise in.

"Where's Louise?" Did Louise talk to him? She never talked at our house, not even to Sam.

The doorbell. "Avon calling," I said, but there were no girls to giggle. Sam squirmed.

"Louise," the man barked. It took a moment, then Louise appeared from a room off the hallway. Of course, she'd been minding Sam, the way she always did. Tousled curls, face puffy with sleep, mini-skirt and tank top stretched over a pregnant belly. This time it was obvious.

"Get the door," the man said. There must be a missus - where was she?

"Louise." I bounced Sammy on my hip, arms locked around her. Sam ignored Louise, who looked at me with vague recognition.

"When are you due?" I asked. Louise paused, then moved toward the stairs. The bell went three times.

I could smell her. But she was here, at least, and not sleeping under some abandoned building which is where Emily found her. This guy couldn't watch her every minute any more than we could, I told myself, ease up. The bell went again. Could I get to the back door if I ran for it? I turned, live coals behind my eyes. "This girl needs help," I said - almost into the man's face. I wrenched sideways and ran toward the couch. Bastard, he was using the diversion to creep up on me! He'd never get this baby.

Our move. I could hear Jim and the girls talking to Louise. OK, now I was ready. I locked my hands around my baby and turned to the man.

The guy was medium everything - height, weight, thinning hair - with freckles. Mr. Harvey, in shirt, pants, and leather-trimmed cardigan. What was I expecting?

I turned toward the footsteps across the floor above and called, "Down here."

The man's eyes flicked up. Then Jim and the girls were on the stairs.

The girls stormed Sammy. I let her down, standing between man and children. Jim stayed on the stairs. I heard the fridge door open. That would be Louise, getting cereal and milk. It was all she ate at our place - fossilized remains proliferating in the living room in front of the television.

Checkmate. Louise - pawn - off the board and the king surrounded.

"You know you can't teach her to mother the baby?" I asked the man quietly. "She was sitting here crying when I came in. You show Louise and she doesn't do it. How to warm milk, how to hold a bottle, but she never does it. She changes the baby when you stand there and hand her a diaper. Every night, when the baby cries, you hope, and in the end you get the girl up, put a bottle in her hand, and walk her to the baby." I couldn't stop. "Then one night you run down ready to snap - and she's gone. Louise has gone and left her newborn wet and hungry." I was out of breath."Teaching her - to mother - she doesn't get it!"

The man moved. I threw myself on Sammy. The girls yelped. Sam cried, but I had her. The girls tickled her and danced Brownie Bear until she laughed. Jim settled back on the stairs.

No gains, no losses.

"Louise," the man shouted. I'd already decided that this was Louise's father. I could see that Jim guessed it too. That's what made him think he had a right to Sammy. And maybe he did.

My mind leapt to Children's Aid. A child is better off with the natural family, it was their mandate now - natural family with support. I pitched it out of my mind.

Louise came to the top of the stairs. Such a kitten. What if she went into labour right now? Francis would take her to the hospital and we'd take the baby home, no one here to look after her.

My heart went out to Louise then. Labour pulling her body inside out and she didn't get any joy from the baby. Here was round two coming up. Last time, after Sam's big head and little body came gushing out, Louise turned over and went to sleep and I picked up the baby.

Louise came to sit on the top step, underpants showing, with her bowl of cereal.

Jim spoke. "I need to get these girls home to do homework," he said.

"Louise, when are you due?" I asked again. Maybe Louise could break the impasse. She looked like she was going to speak.

"She's due in three weeks," Francis said.

Questions: Did she come home to you? Are you getting help for her? Do you need three dependent children?

Liza spoke up, sitting Brownie Bear on her hip. "You're having another baby, Louise, and we need Samantha," she said. Three little girl faces - who could resist?

"The Lord gave her to this family," Francis said. His voice sounded weary.

The TV was off - progress? Did Louise want another chance? I opened my mouth to ask her.What came out was, "She is registered as my baby." I looked at Francis. "I will charge you if you so much as touch her again. You can fight me in court if that's what you want."

The guy's eyes were green, like his daughter's. And his granddaughter's. By the look in them, he didn't know whether to believe me. Everyone just stood there.

As for registering Sam under my name, not even Jim knew. When Louise went into labour, we both took her to the hospital, with me driving and Jim coaching her through the contractions. When we got there, Jim and a nurse hurried Louise off and I went to register her.

Except all I knew was her first name. There was a voice hammering at me to get in there, look into that baby's eyes, bond with it - because it was going to be me or no one.

I gave the woman my name and health card number, not Louise's - probably a criminal offence. I intended to get them the right information in a few days and beg forgiveness.

Jim cleared his throat. Everyone was staring at me.

The back door opened. Struggling in was Louise's older double, Woolworth's bags in both arms. Baby things for a newborn and a one-year old, was my guess. The woman closed the door.

When she turned, Jim extended his hand over Louise's head. "Jim Schoenfeld," he said. "Let me help you." She handed him the bags. The scene played across her face - surprise, fear, hatred.

"Up or down?" Jim asked.

"Down," Francis said. "Put them down."

Louise's mother wasn't named in the papers.

Jim walked downstairs, past Francis, me, the girls, and set the bags on the couch. Louise stood up and followed him, then headed down her hall. A door slammed.

The girls pulled Sammy away from me and walked her between them.

Francis and the woman looked at each other. Then she turned and walked up the steps from back door to kitchen. Water started running in the sink. I could hear dishes going into it.

He couldn't pull this off by himself. It was over. My heart opened, to all of them. "Mr. Harvey," I said to his back. I wanted to say I was sorry. I wanted to invite him to come and see Sam, be her grandfather. Once things were settled, I wouldn't stand in the way-- as long as they promised not to snatch her again.

"The law is on my side," Francis said. "The papers are drawn up. I will call the police if you don't leave this house."

I looked at Jim who had come downstairs. He scooped up Sammy, handed her to me, and took both girls by the hand. We're all bluffing, I thought. I moved toward the stairs. Jim and the girls between me and Francis. What if he grabbed me?

Walking through the kitchen, I tried to say to the woman, "I'll call you," but my voice strangled.

I wrapped my jacket around the baby and opened the front door, concentrating on not screaming out to dance in the muddy yard.