Chapter 24

When Chantrelle came to take Baby Owen, the Fog Ladies were there with Alma Gordon and so was much of the building. Frances Noonan, Mr. Glenn, Sarah, Jonathan the lawyer, Enid Carmichael, Harriet Flynn, and Olivia Honeycut, who didn’t even live in their building. They sat or stood quietly in Mrs. Gordon’s living room.

All these people to stand by her, and still Alma felt alone.

She’d fed Baby Owen his favorite oatmeal breakfast. He wore his best outfit, with a brown dog on his chest and little brown dog slippers on his feet. He sat on the floor with his bear. He was also quiet.

Mrs. Gordon had four grocery bags full of clothes and toys and supplies. She had three books on childrearing, and she had several pages of handwritten notes specific to Baby Owen’s habits. She had a list of things Chantrelle needed to get as soon as they got to Los Angeles—more size three diapers, baby wipes, whole milk, Cheerios. She showed Chantrelle how to work the thermometer and gave her the bottle of liquid children’s acetaminophen. Sarah gave Chantrelle a card with her telephone number and pager number in case Baby Owen got sick before she found a pediatrician.

Jonathan and Mr. Glenn carried the bags to the car. Mrs. Gordon carried Baby Owen and placed him in the car seat. She made Chantrelle strap him in to prove she could do it.

Chantrelle gave Alma a slip of paper with a telephone number on it, not hers, but one of the housemates. “I can’t afford a phone just yet,” she said.

Chantrelle looked twelve instead of seventeen as she stood by the car. Surely she didn’t want to go through with this.

But the girl just said, “Well, that’s that, then.”

Mrs. Gordon hugged Chantrelle, so long she felt the girl squirm. Mrs. Gordon’s chest squeezed as if she were hugging her heart tight instead of Chantrelle. “I’m happy to take him any time you need a break,” she whispered in the girl’s ear. “It’s not always easy to be a mother, and I know you don’t have many people you can turn to. You can turn to me.”

Chantrelle nodded slowly, again looking so young. “Thanks. And thanks for keeping him. I wasn’t sure he’d still be here. I can see you did well by him.”

Mrs. Gordon reached through the door to grab hold of Baby Owen’s little hand. She couldn’t bear the bewilderment in his eyes. She held his gaze and smiled reassuringly. Her brain screamed at her to snatch him up and run.

“I love you, little man.” She squeezed his hand and let it drop. He tried to hold on, but she withdrew quickly, her heart breaking. She closed the door and the car pulled away. Her Owen pulled away.