TIMOTHY BEAUJOLAIS

The rude, hooded woman ran out of their house, and Imani started crying. It was so amazing how their baby picked up the emotions adults thought they were hiding. Timothy couldn’t calm her down. Winda’s response was to return to the kitchen and furiously arrange utensils in the silverware drawer. Timothy grabbed his jacket and zipped it up over the Bjorn, then kissed Winda’s cheek.

“I’m taking Imani for a walk. Maybe she’ll fall asleep in the fresh air.”

Winda adjusted the hood of the baby’s sweater, kissed her forehead, and nodded.

The green area in the center of the circle was empty. No one was in sight except for two police detectives in front of Number Two. Timothy sang softly to Imani as he walked towards the cops. He was self-conscious about his walk, the half-sway, half-jiggle movement he had watched Winda use since Imani was a newborn and had been trying to mimic ever since. It was fluid and lovely when Winda did it; on him it was cumbersome at best, ludicrous for sure. But it worked, and Imani’s eyes were already at half-mast by the time he reached the detectives.

“I’m Timothy Beaujolais,” he said. “My wife and daughter and I just moved in today.” He pointed to their house. The female cop introduced herself and said she’d seen the moving van.

“How’s the search going?” Timothy asked.

“Nothing substantial yet.”

“I’d like to take my baby for a walk,” he told her. “It’s the best way to get this peanut to nap. Is it okay to walk along the river? Is it safe?”

She handed him a leaflet with a phone number hand-written on the bottom. “Just keep your eyes open and please call me if you see anything suspicious. The canine team and drone search are just finishing up.” She pointed up at the heavy clouds. “Might want to make it a short walk. It’s going to rain.”

“Better get going then.” He turned away, then turned back. “Which way is the river?”

McPhee pointed west to the trees, dark now against the dusk.

The path was clearly well used, wide and cleared of branches and rocks. To the left, the Community Garden sign welcomed visitors. Would he and Winda have time to grow vegetables in this new life? Up ahead, the path turned downhill into thicker forest. He looked up at the sky and down into the trees and decided Imani’s nap was more important than staying dry.

The path was rockier here, and he needed to watch his step, not an easy thing with the mound of his daughter blocking his view of his feet. But the soft whistle of her sleeping breaths was worth the careful footing, and soon the path turned alongside a small river. He found himself singing thula sana, for his own soothing rather than Imani’s this time. The trail followed the river past last year’s stubby cornstalks that were home to extended families of geese, then turned uphill again at a large open field. Out in the open, he felt raindrops on his head, and darkness was falling quickly.

He pulled the baby carrier headpiece over Imani and put up his hood as well. Large raindrops spattered on his jacket and on the ground. Looking around, he wondered what the fastest way home might be—back the way he came, or up ahead? In front of him, on a bench at the crest of the hill, a person sat motionless. For a moment, he wondered if it could be the missing old woman, but the posture was that of a younger person. In any case, he or she might know the quickest route home and he hurried uphill to ask.

The person on the bench was opening an umbrella as he reached her. He was curious about the plaque and stone monument near the bench, but reading them would have to wait for better weather.

“Hey,” he called out. “Can you tell me the quickest way back to Azalea Court?”

“That’s where I’m going. Come share my umbrella.” She held it over Imani, who was still sleeping, oblivious to the raindrops on her cheek. They walked briskly uphill, away from the river.

“I’m Evelyn,” she said. “Number Three on the Court.”

“I’m Timothy. My wife and daughter and I just moved into Number Five.” He laughed. “Like, three hours ago!”

“Welcome,” she said. “Now let’s hoof it before the skies really open up.”

“Any news about the woman who’s missing?” he asked as they walked.

Evelyn shook her head. “No. I’ve been looking for her. And now this rain.”