Twenty-eight
“JESUS CHRIST, CAN’T you shut that kid up?” Stump Logan bore down hard on the gas pedal as the baby’s shrieks tightened the screws inside his head.
“We’ve done all we can, Señor,” explained Paz, twisting around in the passenger seat. “She is clean, she is medicated with the rash ointment, we have tried to feed her.”
“Then why the hell is she still crying?”
“Ruperta says she wants her mama.”
“Well, tell her she’s getting a new mama,” Logan snapped. “Tell her by tomorrow she’ll have a brand-new set of parents.”
Paz looked back at the screaming baby, her small fists waving in the air. “I do not think a new mama is what this baby wants.”
Logan chuckled. “Everybody in America wants a new mother, Paz. Tell her she’s just getting the jump on everyone else.”
He needed to shut out the child’s crying so he could concentrate on the road ahead. In a few minutes they would pull into Edwina’s driveway and he’d be done with this little shitting, puking mess. Edwina could clean her up and shut her up, and he could get on with his plan. He unwrapped a chocolate bar, trying to clear the static from his head. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon everything would turn out okay.
Nine miles later, he pulled into Edwina’s long, winding driveway. As he neared her house, he saw that the upper story was dark, but lights blazed from the lower rooms. Good, he thought, she hasn’t let any new girls come. Grinning, he pulled up in front of the door and planted his fist on the horn. The stupid baby started screeching again, but Logan didn’t care as Edwina came hustling out the door, eager, no doubt, to see her latest little chunk of change.
“I’ve been waiting for you since Saturday, Duncan,” she snarled as Paz helped Ruperta and the baby out of the van. “It’s Monday night. What happened? Why didn’t you call? My van looks like a trash pit.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling as if he were sixteen again and making excuses to his mother. “Everything just took longer than I expected.”
Edwina glanced at the child in Ruperta’s arms. “I can’t accept this baby if you didn’t get your girlfriend’s signature on that parental rights form.”
“Calm down.” He patted his back pocket, the repository for all the documents he’d forged for this little adventure. “I got it.”
Edwina scowled at him, then turned to Ruperta. “Okay. Take her inside. Let’s have a look at what the cat’s dragged in.”
Ruperta carried the screaming child into a small bedroom in the back part of the house that Edwina used as a treatment room for her pregnant girls. An examination table stood under a big arc light in the center of the room. Edwina flipped on the light as they entered, then rolled a fresh sheet of paper down over the surface of the table. She nodded at Ruperta, who put the baby on the table and began removing her clothes. When the child lay clad in only her diaper, Edwina stepped forward, putting a stethoscope around her neck. “Bring me my notebook, Ruperta. I’ll need to write this down.”
She examined Lily Walkingstick thoroughly, peering into her eyes with an ophthalmoscope, poking a tongue depressor into her little mouth, jotting down notes as she went along. “A female infant, roughly three months old, posterior fontanel closing nicely. Pupils are equal, reactive, with no strabismus. Lungs are clear, no audible heart murmurs, abdomen normal…”
Edwina removed the child’s diaper, spreading her legs apart. “External genitalia are normal although she does have a mighty case of diaper rash. Don’t you know better than to let a child get like this?” She glared at Ruperta.
“The formula does not agree with her, Señora. I kept her as clean as I could.”
Edwina snorted, then turned the baby on her stomach and eased a thermometer into her rectum. “How long has she had this fever?”
“I sponged her off all day yesterday. Señor Duncan said you would give her medicine when we got here.”
Edwina withdrew the thermometer. “One hundred and four,” she said, taping the diaper back on and once again taking up the ophthalmoscope. She peered into the baby’s right ear. “Have you given her any water?”
“I tried, Señora. She will not take anything from the bottle.”
Edwina turned to Duncan, her eyes blazing. “Don’t tell me your girlfriend was nursing this child.”
He shrugged. “She might have been. What’s the big deal?”
“Unless your girlfriend’s on bromocriptine, she’s probably got a breast infection. Her baby has otitis media—and diaper dermatitis—and I bet she hasn’t taken three ounces of milk since her mother turned her over. Next time you want to enter the adoption market, Duncan, try the dog pound. Their clients can suffer your abuse a little better.”
“Will she be okay?” Logan tried to look worried, though this little squawker could die of diaper dermatitis for all he cared.
“Fortunately for the human race, most children survive the care of their parents.” She handed the baby to Ruperta. “Give her a tepid—tibio—bath and put her in some clean clothes. I’ll give her some amoxicillin and aspirin. If she won’t take Pedialyte from a preemie bottle, we’ll have to start an IV. With luck, she should be okay by the time the parents start coming.”
Logan perked up. “You already found her some parents?”
“I’ve got three different couples lined up and waiting. Any one of them will do better by this little girl than you.”
“When are they coming?”
“As soon as I call them.” She fished out a bottle containing an inch of pink powder from the medicine chest and poured distilled water in it. “But first I need those papers from you. I can’t do a thing without them.”
He pulled the forged birth certificate and parental surrender forms from his pocket as she shook up what now looked like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. He dropped the pages on the examination table. “See you in a couple of days.”
“Where are you going now?” she asked in astonishment.
“You said I could have the van for a couple more days after I brought the baby.”
“You’re leaving right away?”
“I need to finish a deal. I’m running on a timetable.”
“I hope you run on that one better than you ran on this one.”
He forced himself to smile. “I’ll be back later.”
“You be back Wednesday, Duncan,” ordered Edwina. “I’m tired of your nonsense. And clean out my van before you bring it back.”
Go fuck yourself, you old bitch, he thought as he headed toward the door.
“Don’t you want to kiss your little girl goodbye? She’ll probably be gone by the time you get back.”
“You kiss her for me, Edwina,” Duncan called over his shoulder. “Just tell her Daddy says to have a nice life.”
Miles to the east, the child’s real mother was speeding down I-40 in a pickup, sipping from a thermos of herbal tea. After Ruth had left Jonathan, she’d hurried back to the camper, waking Clarinda, who’d fallen asleep over the latest issue of Cosmo.
“Wake up,” Ruth had said. “We’re leaving.”
Clarinda blinked. “But where are we going? Did Mary find the baby?”
“Not that I know of,” replied Ruth, rolling up her sleeping bag. “We’re going to find Mary. Then we’re going to help her find Lily.”
Clarinda didn’t budge from her cot. “I thought Gabe Benge was giving her plenty of help.”
“I thought so, too,” said Ruth. “Apparently, that’s not enough.”
Clarinda rolled her eyes, but got up and began stuffing her clothes into her backpack. Twenty minutes later, both women were packed and ready to go.
“Here.” Ruth tossed her cousin the keys.”You drive. I need to get some sleep.”
“I just took six aspirin,” Clarinda whined. “You know what these trees do to my sinuses.”
“Okay, okay,” muttered Ruth impatiently, grabbing the keys and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Just get in. I’ll try to stay awake.”
They pulled out of Dula’s parking lot and stopped at a gas station before they merged onto I-40. Clarinda used the bathroom and stocked up on cigarettes; Ruth bought a map and had her thermos filled with hot water.
“What are you brewing tonight?” Clarinda’s nose wrinkled as they finally rolled up the access ramp to the highway.
“Something to keep me awake,” Ruth said acidly. “According to this map, it’s about five hours to Christiana.”
“That far? Hey, I’ll try not to doze off,” Clarinda said, crumpling up against the passenger door. Ten minutes later, she was snoring.
Sipping her tea, Ruth sped on through the night. At first she drove erratically, nearly nodding off from sheer exhaustion, but as the herbal mixture she’d learned from Granny Broom worked its magic, she began to feel almost giddy with energy, as if she’d downed a pot of powerful coffee. Suddenly in tune with every nuance of the highway, she drafted behind a log-toting semi through Knoxville, then zoomed solo past the smaller towns of Lenoir City and Harriman. As the night wore on traffic thinned out, and she was able to catch brief glances at the huge black bowl of sky overhead. She tried to spot Polaris, the star that had once betokened such good things for her and Jonathan. At Little Jump Off she could find it easily, shining directly over a notch in Hemming Ridge. Here, traveling west through unfamiliar country, she had no idea where it was. Just like Lily, she thought, bitterly.
As she drove on through the night she began to see everything, from the lines on the highway to her whole life, with amazing acuity. Lily and Jonathan; Mary and Clarinda.
“Some of them are true helpers,” she whispered, Jonathan’s words ringing in her head. “Others are simply clutter.”
All at once an idea occurred to her. If she would just shake her life out like a quilt, all the clutter would vanish, and leave only what was important to her. Only that way would she get her family back. Only that way would her old life return.
Amazed at the simplicity of the solution, she looked over at Clarinda. She was snoring loudly, slack-jawed from her six aspirin. Clutter, decided Ruth. Clutter of the worst kind. Abruptly she stepped on the brake and steered the truck over to the shoulder of the road. They lurched along the rough pavement, finally stopping just beneath a sign for the next exit. As Clarinda struggled up from sleep, Ruth reached over and opened the passenger door. Laughing, she grabbed her cousin’s backpack and threw it into the darkness.
“What’s going on?” cried the woozy Clarinda, shivering as cold night air poured in the open door. “Did we have a flat?”
“Get out,” said Ruth.
Clarinda frowned as if trying to square reality with whatever she’d been dreaming. “Huh?”
“I said get out. I don’t want you in my truck anymore.”
Blinking, Clarinda looked around to see nothing but a deserted highway and a sign indicating that the exit for some place named Crossville was one mile ahead. “Have you gone nuts? This is the middle of the night! We’re in the middle of nowhere!”
“And it’s the perfect place for you.” Ruth looked at Clarinda’s shocked expression and started laughing all over again.
“If this is your idea of payback, Ruth, it really sucks. I didn’t mean to give Lily away. I’ve told you a million times I made a fucking mistake!”
“Your parents are the ones who made a fucking mistake, Clarinda. It turned out to be you.” Ruth pulled Jonathan’s lug wrench from beneath the driver’s seat and pointed at her cousin. “Now get the bloody hell out of my truck!”
The last vestige of sleep fled from Clarinda’s face. She scrambled out the door like a dog accustomed to dodging the furious kicks of its master. When she reached the ground she turned back toward Ruth, her arms spread in supplication.
“Okay, Ruth,” she called, as if she’d just indulged her cousin in some bizarre game of revenge. “I’m out here alone, in the dead of night. I’ve got twenty-two dollars in my purse and no idea of where the hell I am. Does that even the score between us? Do you feel better now?”
Ruth looked down at the woman who’d handed her baby to a total stranger—a piece of pure, unadulterated clutter if there ever was one. “Not quite yet, Clarinda,” she said sourly. “But twenty more miles down the road, I’ll probably feel just fine.”
Reaching over, she slammed the door shut and gunned the engine, jamming the truck back onto the highway. She watched in the rearview mirror as her little piece of clutter cousin stomped her foot and waved her arms like a puppet and then disappeared into the darkness, just another piece of litter you’d pass on the highway without a second thought.