Somebody's Baby

  Sloan also saw that the spread was dented and imagined Toby curled up, reading about some comic superhero. Her eyes misted. He felt comfortable here, close to his mother. Sloan’s breath caught, and insight flashed. She bolted from the room, yelling, “Cole! Grab your keys! I know where he is.”

  “Are you sure, Sloan? It’s a heck of a long walk for a seven-year-old.”

  “Well, he’s had hours to make it.” Cole drove slowly toward their destination while from the passenger seat she intently searched both sides of the old narrow road. There was very little cover where Toby could duck and hide from a passing patrol car. “It may be a long shot, Cole, but I’m pretty sure of where he’s going.”

  “He’s a resourceful kid, and I wouldn’t put it past him. We’ve played T-ball at every field in the town, so Toby knows how to get almost anywhere.” Sloan’s hunch made sense to him.

  “And he’s fearless,” she added, seeing the entrance to their destination. “Let’s walk in,” she suggested. “We’ll make less noise on foot. If he hears an engine, he might try to hide.”

  Cole parked. They got out and walked through the cemetery’s gates, past the building filled with a location map and documents on its walls commemorating the dead. Some of the graves, in a special area with headstones, dated back to the 1800s. The more modern areas were considered memorial gardens, with only bronze nameplates flat against the ground, each with a vase so that visitors could leave flowers.

  The sunlight was gone, replaced with low threatening clouds promising colder temperatures, twenties and thirties predicted by weathermen. Tree branches were stark and bare, and the grass was shorn and brown, asleep with the dead. Sloan longed for spring. Color. Warmth. LA seemed a lifetime away.

  Her heartbeat kicked up when she saw a small shape huddled on the ground. “There!” She pointed.

  “I see him. Don’t run. Let’s take our time,” Cole replied.

  They walked casually hand in hand, as if a twilight stroll in a cemetery were a normal thing for a couple to do. Toby had spread his blanket, and sat with his arms around hunched knees, staring at the ground. Weed flowers that he’d probably picked along the way drooped in the vase. Cole crouched beside the boy. “Hey, buddy. We’ve been looking for you.” The blanket held Toby’s treasures, his baseball glove and baseball, a photo of Toby and his mom wearing smiles. “You setting up a campsite here?”

  “I ain’t going home.”

  Sloan knelt beside Cole, felt the cold earth through the blanket and her jeans. “We miss you and want you to come home.”

  He looked at Sloan. “I thought you were gone to California.”

  “I came back because I made you a promise that I’d figure a way to change things about you having to visit with Bo, and today I kept that promise. He’s gone.” If she’d thought the news would make Toby jump and shout, Sloan was wrong. Toby simply shrugged and kept his fingers locked around his knees.

  Cole shifted, mouthed that he was going to step away and call Gloria and the police to say the boy was found. Sloan stayed in place, unsure what to say, or how to reach inside the boy and soothe his heart. “You miss your mama, don’t you?” He nodded. “I miss her too.”

  “Why’d she have to die?”

  A fist of emotion filled her throat. Hadn’t she asked herself that same question about another’s death? “She was very sick, Toby. You know that.” It sounded more like an excuse than comfort.

  Toby glared at Sloan, and she saw tracks of tears through dirt on his face. “Mama left me! Everybody leaves me!”

  “Gloria and Cole are here.”

  “You leave me.”

  The way he flung the accusation made her cringe. “But haven’t I always come back to visit? You know that I travel and give concerts and make music for people to like. It’s my job, like Cole and Gloria go to work and you go to school and play baseball.”

  He fell into a pouty silence, plucked a few blades of dead grass from the side of his mother’s brass nameplate. He wore no mittens, and she wanted to gather his small hands in hers, rub them, hold them tightly, yet she remained in place, her knees numb.

  Cole had retreated to a nearby standing position, was waiting patiently, allowing Sloan to take her time, and allowing Toby to unload his pain, knowing the boy would face it many more times over years to come.

  Toby tossed aside the dead grass. “People say they know how I feel. Nobody knows!” His mind had switched to another lament.

  His words hammered her heart. “Nobody knows….” “I—I think people who lose someone they love do know how you feel.” She struggled to find the right thing to say, but in the end knew words wouldn’t do—she had to show him. It was the only way, not only for Toby but also for herself. “I want to show you something. It’s not too far from here….We can walk. Will you come with me? Please?”

  Grudgingly he stood, but refused to take her hand. She walked him along a path that intertwined and linked to other sections of the cemetery. Cole followed at a discreet distance. At first Sloan wondered if she could find her way, but soon realized that she’d never forgotten the way. It was as fresh in her mind as the day she’d first walked it. She stopped, looked down the long rows of brass vases marking the embedded brass nameplates, easily saw the one she wanted, because someone had placed red poinsettias in the vase. Tears welled in her eyes. She walked Toby to the vase of Christmas flowers and pointed down. “Can you read the name on the marker, Toby?”

  “I know how to read.” His indignant tone made her smile, in spite of the ache inside her. He dropped to his knees, phonetically sounded out, “Gabriel Berke.” He gave Sloan a satisfied smile. “Hey! Gabriel….That’s your name.”

  She felt Cole’s gaze drill through her, took a deep shuddering breath. “Gabriel was my little boy. He died when he was three.”

  “Why?”

  “He got sick.”

  “Like Mama?”

  “Different illness, but yes, like your mama.” Sloan held herself together while painful memories thrashed her head and heart. “I lost him, so when I tell you ‘I know what you’re feeling,’ I really do know.”

  Toby nodded sagely, rose, and took her hand in his. He looked up, and his face brightened. “Hey! Maybe Mama and him will meet up in heaven!”

  Pressure compressed her chest, making it hard to speak. “I—I’d love that.” Never mind that she wasn’t as sure about heaven as Toby was.

  Cole stepped closer, took Toby’s free hand. “I think it’s time to go home, Little Man. We’ll pick up your stuff on the way to my truck.”

  They walked hand in hand, with Toby between Cole and Sloan, back the way they’d come, through the darkness, while stars winked on in the night sky.

  Moving day. The day Dawson had waited for from the day Lani left. He’d been on his way to Memphis to help pack up Lani’s things when he’d run into Sloan at the gas station, but once he’d gotten back on the road, all his thoughts had been on Lani coming home. They were working in different parts of the small apartment, he in the living room area, she in the tiny galley kitchen, maybe fifty feet from each other. “You want to keep this?” He held up a table lamp.

  Lani eyed the chipped lamp with its dented shade. “I’ll replace it. Put it in the giveaway pile.”

  She continued wrapping plates, cups, and glassware in paper and filling cardboard boxes. She’d already boxed up her closet and bedding, had left Dawson to pack what was left of hers in the semi-furnished unit, but soon noticed he’d gone quiet. “Are you working?” she yelled.

  “I’m watching.”

  She looked up to see him slouching against the doorjamb, a sexy smile on his face. “We’re never going to get out of here this afternoon if you don’t get busy.”

  She’d pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail and wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup, and he thought she couldn’t be more beautiful. He crouched beside her, took her hand. “Let’s take a break.”

  “Dawson!”

  Ignoring the exaspe
ration in her voice, he led her to the broken-down sofa. “Catch me up. How’s your little Sara Beth doing?”

  Lani’s demeanor softened. “Better. Not ready to leave ICU yet, but it looks as if the bone marrow is taking. And having her daddy and mom with her has improved her even more.”

  “Glad she’s making it.”

  Lani tucked one leg under the other and twisted toward him. She had a question for him and thought now was a good time to ask it. “Were you worried about me going off the deep end if she died? Be honest.”

  He couldn’t fool Lani, so why try? “Yes…maybe a little.”

  “I won’t pretend that it wasn’t difficult watching Sara Beth sink lower. I thought of Gabe many times, and the dark place I lived in after he died. You know how guilty I felt.” He started to say something, but she pressed fingertips to his lips. “I forgave everyone but me. And then a counselor told me that self-forgiveness was always the hardest. She said it was an arbitration between my psyche and my intelligence, and made me write down the facts of his case and let my professional side make the choice. I did that, but what helped me the most was seeing you emerge from your dark place.”

  He kissed her fingers, laid her palm on his cheek. “It helped that Dad was a doctor and that I’d watched Mom die. I couldn’t play the blame game card…especially with you. Truthfully, though, I may have gotten past what happened, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get over losing him. If it hadn’t been for you…” He let the words trail.

  She picked up his thought. “You healed me too…all those months after, the way you loved me.”

  “That was the easy part.”

  She smiled. “Coming here and working with so many sick kids gave me a perspective I didn’t have from my days at Windemere General. At St. Jude’s, I was around a lot of sick children, some who died, but also around a whole lot more who lived.”

  “And now you’re going home and doing it all over again.” He grinned. “You make me proud.” He ducked forward and kissed her.

  She gave him an impish look. “And will probably be living in my car because this place isn’t packed up yet!”

  “You can always move in with Melody.”

  She made a face. “And have her riding herd on me? I’d rather we get a bigger apartment in your complex.”

  She started to get up, but he pulled her back. “Dad called. He wants us to come to Chicago for a visit.”

  Lani hadn’t seen Dr. Berke, her mentor, in ages. “I’d love that.”

  “Or,” Dawson said casually, “we can invite Dad and Connie to come visit us.”

  “That’s fine with me too. When?”

  He reached into his pocket, withdrew a ring box. “Maybe when they come for our wedding.”

  Her heart did a stutter step, and her eyes swept to his. She took the box and raised the lid. Inside a single solitaire diamond in a gold setting lay on a tuft of black velvet. The stone caught daylight and shot off an array of sparkles. It was hard to catch her breath.

  “It was Mom’s. I asked Dad if I could give it to you. I’ve been carrying it around for days, had planned to give it to you at Christmas, but I can’t wait that long. Will you marry me?”

  Choked by emotion, all she could do was nod vigorously and hold out her left hand.

  He removed the ring from the box and tried it on her finger. The fit was close, but the ring would have to be resized. Lani’s finger was larger. “Mom never took it off, even when she got so thin and sick. Dad wound surgical tape around the inside so it wouldn’t fall off.”

  Lani heard huskiness in his voice. She leaned forward. “And I’ll never take it off either. Except when the jeweler resizes it, and I’ll wait while he does.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  “Yes with all my heart, body, and soul.”

  They cuddled together, watching shadows lengthen in the room as twilight fell outside. Lani believed she’d fallen in love with Dawson the first time she’d laid eyes on him, and now, despite all the setbacks, the twists and turns of life, and the heartaches they both had faced, they would be married. Dreams sometimes did come true. She admired the ring, then sat up straight. “We still have to finish packing.”

  Dawson looped his hands behind his head, rested his feet on the coffee table, gave her a sly smile. “Give it a rest, lady. I just got engaged!”

  Laughing, they tumbled into one another’s arms.

  “Is he asleep?” Cole asked when Sloan entered the great room. He was on his sofa, flipping through TV channels, the sound muted. He’d been waiting for Sloan to come out of the guest room, where earlier Cole had tucked Toby in to spend the night. He had let Gloria know about the sleepover, and they’d both agreed that since Cole had the next day off and Gloria didn’t, Toby would spend the following day with Cole and Sloan.

  “Yes—finally.” She edged onto the sofa, keeping a comfortable distance between her body and Cole’s. “He wanted me to lie there with him until he fell asleep.” She rubbed her tired eyes. “And he wanted me to talk to him. ‘About what?’ I asked, and he said ‘Anything.’ So I did.”

  “He and Lindsey used to do that. She told me cuddling with him and talking was sometimes the only thing that helped dull her pain. She’d talk awhile, and then listen to him tell her about baseball, superheroes, friends at school, until one of them fell asleep. He’s a bright kid and loves to tell stories.” Cole turned off the television, put the remote on his coffee table. “What did the two of you talk about?”

  “Music. I thought he’d be bored silly, but no…he stayed awake. So I talked about my upcoming tour in Europe. London and now Stockholm, and there’s talk of Australia next year. He listened, but never shut his eyes.”

  “Impressive schedule,” Cole said, a weight on his heart. Sloan spoke the language of music, a universal language that knew no barriers, and she was a conduit through which it flowed to the whole world.

  She waved away his comment. “But back to Toby. Oh, and before I forget, I told him that when he wanted to visit his mother’s grave, someone would take him.”

  “I’ll tell Gloria, and one of us will.”

  Sloan heaved a sigh. “And when I ran out of things to say, I invited him to come with me to California…right after Christmas. Just for a few days while he’s out of school. But after hearing that, he was too excited to fall asleep!”

  Cole gave a throaty laugh. “Did you mean it?”

  “Of course! I promised. Hope I can keep him busy. Disneyland, SeaWorld, the Pacific Ocean…” She went down the list of places they would go.

  “He’ll have a ball.”

  She nibbled her bottom lip. “Kind of scary…entertaining a seven-year-old boy for five days.” She shifted her eyes sideways toward Cole. “Maybe you can come with us?”

  He patted her hands resting in her lap. “Not this time. This is about you and Toby. He’s an easy kid. He’ll have the time of his life.”

  Sloan deflated but realized Cole was right. This trip was for Toby.

  Cole stood, led her into the kitchen. “How about some hot chocolate?” A pot simmered on the stove, and the delicious smell of rich dark chocolate drifted in the air. He’d made it with milk, sugar, and real cocoa while she’d been settling Toby.

  “With whipped cream?” She leaned in to inhale the fragrance.

  “Homemade.” He winked and pulled a bowl from the fridge, of heavy cream whipped into fluffy peaks.

  “Big mug,” she said, using her hands like a fisherman exaggerating the size of a catch.

  He grinned, poured hefty portions into heavy ceramic mugs, heaped the cream on top, and handed her a cup. She warmed her hands around it, licked a dollop of the cream off, and raised the mug to him. “Thank you.”

  He watched as she sipped the brew, biding his time, waiting until she was ready to talk to him.

  Standing in the kitchen, Sloan became fidgety, shifted from foot to foot. She knew Cole was patiently waiting for her to explain the things she’d said at the cemetery, a fu
ll account of her history. And her mistakes. Where did she begin? “I—um—I guess you heard everything I told Toby.”

  “You did a stellar job of talking him down, so that we could bring him home. You impressed me.” He paused, knowing it would be simpler if he asked questions, as he did in his job as a paramedic to victims in shock or ashamed of certain actions. “And yes, I heard that you and Dawson had a baby and lost him. Were you married?”

  “No, we were seniors in high school. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it, because this town loved to talk about me.”

  “No one said a word. Everyone I’ve met thinks you’re a star who has put Windemere on the map.”

  “Well, someday the tabloids will get hold of it, and we’ll see how everyone acts. The tabloids aren’t always kind, you know.”

  He heard bitterness in her voice but didn’t want her to get sidetracked. “And Lani? Where does she fit?”

  “She worked at the hospital and was also Gabe’s caregiver at Dawson’s house for several months, and she and Dawson fell in love.”

  His brow furrowed. “How did that make you feel, seeing them together?”

  Sloan’s heart boomed like a kettle drum inside her chest. Confession time. “I wasn’t…around. You see, soon after Gabe was born…I left.”

  Words spoken by Dawson that day in the fast-food joint clicked into place for Cole. “She runs.”

  Sloan took a long gulp of her chocolate drink for courage, because by now Cole didn’t have to ask questions. She simply wanted to be rid of the ache inside. “Dawson gets all the credit. He took care of Gabe, raised him, and by the time I saw them both again, Gabe was almost three, Lani was in their lives, and my little boy had no idea who I was.”

  Cole searched her face, saw deep sadness but no self-pity. He recalled her telling Toby that an illness had claimed Gabe’s life, but there was no way Cole could ask about it now. She was barely holding herself together. “Is that why you took his name for the singing contest?”