Abby and the Mystery Baby

“Sure,” I said, thinking of the closet in my mom’s study that’s always stuffed with office supplies.

  “Then I think it’s time to kick off BSC Writing Month,” said Mary Anne. “Okay, kids, let’s go. I want you all to join me in the kitchen so I can tell you about a really fun activity. Then, one by one, you can take turns visiting with Eli.”

  The rest of the afternoon was terrific. Eli calmed down as soon as the kids dispersed, and he seemed to enjoy visiting with them one at a time. In the kitchen, Mary Anne told the kids about BSC Writing Month and about the different types of writing they could do. “You can write poems or stories or even songs,” she said. “Anything you want. And you can write about any subject in the world: flowers or puppies or sunsets or dinosaurs or worms.”

  Mary Anne must have been inspiring. That day, the kids wrote and wrote. But can you guess what topic every single kid ended up writing about?

  Right. Baby Eli.

  “Hello, Abby. How’s that baby? Taking good care of him?”

  Later that evening, I’d answered a knock on the door to find Sergeant Johnson and a woman I didn’t know standing on the porch. I’d been sitting in the living room, keeping an eye on Eli while I worked on my social studies homework. Anna was upstairs practicing — I could hear the faint sounds of her scales — and my mom was in her study. The house felt very peaceful after the chaos of that afternoon.

  “He’s great,” I told Sergeant Johnson. My voice was shaking a little, but I don’t think he or the woman noticed. Was this Eli’s mother? I felt the weirdest mix of happiness and sadness. Happiness that Eli and his mom would be reunited, and sadness at the thought of seeing him leave our house. “I think he recognizes my voice already.” I invited them inside.

  “This is Ms. Stapleton,” said Sergeant Johnson, gesturing toward the woman, who was almost as tall as he was, with blonde hair and a no-nonsense look on her face. “She’s from social services.”

  “Oh,” I said, my face falling. I felt this strange sense of relief that she wasn’t Eli’s mom, but then a new concern sprang to mind. Had they come to take Eli away? I felt tears spring to my eyes, which surprised me. Hoping that neither of my visitors had noticed, I blinked them away.

  “We’re just here to check up on the baby and make sure everything’s all right,” said Ms. Stapleton in a warm voice. She sounded a lot nicer than she looked.

  “Oh!” I said, relieved. “Well, he’s sleeping right now, but I’m sure we won’t wake him if we tiptoe in and take a look. He’s in the living room.” I suddenly realized that Ms. Stapleton might not approve of our allowing Eli to sleep on the couch. “He has his own crib,” I added hastily. “Upstairs, in my mom’s room. But he fell asleep on the couch, and Anna and I thought it was better not to wake him up just to put him to bed, if you know what I mean.”

  Sergeant Johnson gave me a kind smile. “Lead the way,” he said.

  I brought them into the living room and showed them where Eli was sleeping. “We arranged all the pillows around him so he couldn’t possibly roll off the couch,” I whispered, still concerned that Ms. Stapleton would think I didn’t know how to take care of a baby.

  “Shhh!” she said, pointing to Eli, who was moving his arms as if he were about to wake up. “I see. He looks perfectly safe and very, very comfortable.” She was whispering, too.

  Then the three of us just stood there gazing at him for a few moments as he heaved a sigh and settled back into a deep sleep. I could tell by glancing at her face that Ms. Stapleton was charmed by Eli, just as everyone else had been.

  “Shall we?” asked Sergeant Johnson, gesturing toward the kitchen.

  We tiptoed out of the living room and gathered in the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?” I asked. “Tea? Formula?” I held up a can of Eli’s formula and grinned. I wasn’t worried anymore about Ms. Stapleton. She hadn’t come to take Eli away. She’d just come to make sure he was all right.

  “I’d love some coffee,” said Ms. Stapleton.

  “So would I,” said Sergeant Johnson. “I’m on duty until midnight.”

  I bustled around, setting out the coffeemaker, two mugs, cream, and sugar.

  “Your mother said she’d be home tonight,” said Sergeant Johnson.

  “Oh, she is!” I assured him. “She’s just busy working. She probably didn’t even hear you come in. Should I tell her you’re here?”

  “If you would,” said Sergeant Johnson. “We have a few things to discuss with her.”

  That sounded serious. As soon as I’d turned on the coffeemaker, I ran to find my mom. She turned off her computer when she heard who was there and followed me downstairs. I poured the coffee and put some cookies on a plate for our guests. Then I started to sit down at the table.

  “Uh, Abby,” began Sergeant Johnson. “If you’ll excuse us, we’d like to talk to your mom in private.”

  “In private?” I repeated. Then I realized that he wanted me to leave. “Oh, sure. Okay. I’ll just — I’ll just be with Eli.” I stood up and backed out of the room. Darn! What could they possibly have to talk about that they couldn’t share with me? It must be something about Eli, and where he came from. I had been heading to the living room, but suddenly I stopped and looked back at the closed kitchen door.

  I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn’t resist. I tiptoed toward the kitchen and slowly, quietly, I knelt by the closed door and listened. I could hear voices, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I put my ear up to the door and listened harder.

  “What are you doing?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Anna’s voice behind me.

  “Nothing! Nothing,” I said. Quickly, I moved away from the door.

  Anna frowned at me. “You weren’t eavesdropping, were you?”

  “Who me?” I asked. “No way. Not me. Uh-uh.”

  Anna looked skeptical.

  “Well, maybe a little. But they’re talking about Eli, and I need to know what they’re saying. Maybe they’ve figured out who left him.”

  We were in the living room now. Anna looked at Eli and smiled. “He’s such a doll,” she said. “What does it matter where he came from? He’s here now. Let’s enjoy him while he’s with us.”

  Just then, Eli stirred, stretched, opened his eyes, and started to wail. Both of us sprang into action. Anna picked him up. “He’s wet,” she said.

  “Let’s take him upstairs, as long as he’s awake. We can change him and put him back to sleep in his crib,” I said.

  Which is exactly what we did. Soon Eli was sleeping peacefully again, while we stood over his crib, gazing at him. Then the phone rang, and I ran to grab it before it woke him up.

  It was Mal. “How’s Eli?” she asked.

  I told her he was perfect.

  “I just wanted to let you know that Jessi and I are going to check out that woman from our writing group. She did something very suspicious tonight.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “She didn’t show up for our meeting,” said Mal. “Don’t you think that means something? Anyway, Jessi and I asked a few questions and we think we found out where she lives. We’re going to try to follow her and figure out what she’s up to.”

  “Great,” I said. I wasn’t convinced that this was a lead, but it couldn’t hurt for Mal and Jessi to check this woman out. Probably the woman’s story was just that: a story. Still, you never know.

  Thinking of stories reminded me of the stories and poems the kids had written that afternoon. I decided that this was a good time to read them. Maybe they would take my mind off the mystery, and off the frustration of not being able to listen in on the meeting going on downstairs.

  After a brief search, I found the pile of papers in the living room. I brought them upstairs and made myself comfortable on my bed. Then I began to read.

  The first story I picked up was by David Michael:

  Then there was a great poem by Melody Korman:

  Linny had written a story about a spac
e alien that had taken the form of a baby, and Bill Korman had illustrated it (he’d said he didn’t feel like writing that day). And Hannie had written a song called “Eli, the Best Baby in the Universe.”

  But it was Maria Kilbourne’s story that caught my interest.

  Green car? I stopped reading. Where had that come from?

  I threw down the paper, flew to the phone, and dialed with trembling fingers. “Shannon? Hi, it’s Abby.” I started babbling, telling her what I’d just read. “Is Maria there? I want to ask her about this story.”

  “She already went to bed,” said Shannon. “But I’ll go wake her up. This sounds important.”

  “No, don’t wake her —” I began, but it was too late. Shannon had already put down the phone.

  “Hello?”

  Maria sounded groggy, but she answered my questions anyway. She’d been home sick the day before, and it turned out that she had, indeed, seen somebody climb out of a green car and drop something off at my house. No, she hadn’t been able to tell what it was. No, she didn’t get a good look at the person — though she thought the person had been short and might have been a woman. And no, she hadn’t looked at the license plate.

  Maria said she didn’t think anything of it at the time, but when she heard about Eli arriving she’d decided to make up a fairy tale about how he’d come, and she’d used the green car as part of her story. That was all.

  I thanked her and told her to go right back to bed. Then I said a quick good-bye to Shannon and ran downstairs. Private meeting or not, I had to interrupt, to tell Sergeant Johnson what I’d learned. It might add up to nothing, but on the other hand, it might be an important lead.

  I reached up to knock on the kitchen door, and just then, the doorbell rang.

  I stopped in my tracks and glanced at my watch. It was after nine. Who could be ringing our bell? A little shiver ran down my spine, and somehow I just knew that the person at the door had something to do with Eli.

  I was right, sort of.

  “I’ll answer that,” I called out, even though nobody else was in sight. I went to the door and flicked on the inside hall light as well as the outdoor light, the one that illuminates the porch. Then, following the official standard baby-sitter precaution (since it was nighttime and I wasn’t expecting anyone), I peeked through the peephole.

  What — or who — was I expecting to see? Another police officer? An FBI agent? Eli’s mother? A kidnapper? A blackmailer?

  I guess I was expecting anyone but the person I saw standing on our porch. She stood waiting for the door to open, and she looked very anxious. She was a slightly built, mousy-looking woman with limp dark blonde hair and tiny hands, which she wrung nervously. She wore a tweed overcoat that looked about three sizes too big and carried a large brown leather bag, too big to be a pocketbook but too small to be a suitcase.

  She looked a little like a child dressed up in her mother’s clothes.

  “Who is it?”

  I jumped back, surprised. My mom, who must have heard the bell ring, had appeared behind me.

  “I have no idea,” I said. I looked through the peephole one more time, then stepped back to let my mother see.

  She looked, shrugged (she didn’t seem to recognize the woman either), and opened the door.

  “You requested a nanny?” asked the woman in a thin, reedy voice. She gulped loudly enough so I could hear. “This is the Stevensons’, isn’t it?” she asked timidly.

  “It is,” said my mother. “And I did. Request a nanny, that is. But I certainly didn’t expect anyone so soon.” She looked a little perplexed. “The agency told me it might take until Friday.”

  “I wanted to come as soon as I could,” the woman said. She pulled a messy sheaf of papers out of the large pocket in her coat. “Here are my references,” she added, shoving them at my mom.

  “Why don’t you come in?” said my mother gently. I could tell she was trying to put the woman at ease.

  The woman stepped into the front hall and stopped to look around. “You have a lovely home,” she said shyly. She put down her bag, and my mother eyed it.

  “Uh, I’m not sure if your agency told you, but this isn’t a sleep-in job,” she said.

  The woman blushed. Obviously, she’d thought it was, which was why she’d brought her overnight bag.

  “I’m Rachel Stevenson, and this is my daughter Abby,” said my mom, rushing in to ease the situation again. “Abby has a twin sister, Anna, who’s upstairs right now.”

  “I’m Erin Amesely,” said the woman. She stuck out her hand hesitantly, as if she weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do. First my mother shook it, then I did.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure that was true. This woman made me feel very suspicious. She certainly did not seem like your basic, ordinary nanny. And she wasn’t a fun nanny, either. She wasn’t anything like Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins.

  Who was she? Did she have some motive for being near Eli? I stared at her while my mother, who didn’t seem to notice her weird behavior, filled her in on Eli.

  “He’s four months old,” she said, as if she knew that for a fact. I realized that she wasn’t telling Erin Amesely the whole story. Instead, she was acting as if Eli were just part of our family. “He’s a very easy baby — not colicky or anything like that. We’d just need you here to watch him during the day, while I’m at work and the girls are at school.”

  Erin was nodding. “Babies that age are wonderful, aren’t they?” she said softly. “I have a nephew —” she began, but then she noticed that my mother had started to glance through her references, and she clammed up and began to bite her lip nervously.

  After a few moments, my mom looked up and smiled. “These references look fine,” she said. “I think you can consider the job yours. Can you be here by seven tomorrow morning?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Erin. “Seven o’clock sharp. No problem. Thank you. Thank you very much.” She looked eager.

  When my mom began to talk about wages and benefits, I excused myself and headed upstairs. Just hearing my mom talk about Eli had made me want to see him and hold him. I tiptoed as I walked into my mom’s room, but when I got closer to the crib I found out that tiptoeing hadn’t been necessary. Eli was awake.

  He lay there, looking up at me with those innocent, trusting blue eyes. “Oh, you are the sweetest boy,” I said softly, as I scooped him up into my arms. I kissed the top of his head, and then his nose, and then his dimpled chin. He yawned, stretched his little arms, and gave me one of those special smiles of his.

  I never knew I could fall in love so quickly.

  I waltzed around the room with him, singing softly as I dipped and whirled. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” I sang, “you make me happy, when skies are gray.” Eli gurgled and smiled up at me, and I knew he didn’t care about the fact that I can’t carry a tune to save my life.

  “I hope Ms. Erin Amesely knows how to take good care of you,” I whispered to him. “I hope she understands your baby language as well as I do.” I wasn’t happy about having to leave Eli with a stranger, especially with such a strange stranger — but what could I do? My mom was the one who would be paying for the nanny, and if she thought Erin was okay, that was that. I knew I had no say in the matter.

  “Abby?”

  I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway. She had a peculiar expression on her face. “Abby, your grandparents are on the phone. They’d like to say hello to you.”

  I’d been so involved with Eli that I hadn’t even heard the phone ring.

  “I’ve already told them about the baby,” said my mom, holding out her arms for Eli. “But why don’t you go ahead and talk with them a little?”

  I handed Eli over. Then I left the room and picked up the hall phone. “Hello?” I said. “Grandpa Morris? Gram Elsie?” I knew they’d both be on the phone. They always use both extensions when they call.

  “Who else, bubbelah?” That was Gr
am Elsie. “Bubbelah” is a Yiddish word with several meanings. My grandmother uses it as a pet name for me, like “sweetie,” or “darling.”

  “How’s our Avigail?” asked Grandpa Morris, using my Hebrew name.

  “I’m fine,” I answered. “Did you hear about the baby?” I knew they had, but I sort of wanted to tell them about him all over again.

  “Sure, honey, we heard,” said Grandpa Morris. “Now, tell us how you’re doing in school.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I had a math test yesterday, and I only made two mistakes on it.”

  “Mazel tov!” said Gram Elsie. Another Yiddish phrase. It’s used to say “congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “So, did mom tell you how cute Eli is?” I asked. Somehow, I was beginning to sense that they didn’t want to talk about the baby — what had my mother told them, exactly? — but I wanted to make sure I was right.

  “Cute, sure,” said Grandpa Morris. “But nobody could be as cute as our Abby.”

  They were avoiding the topic. “So, what’s new with you?” I asked. Maybe, just maybe, they’d let something slip so I’d know exactly what my mom had told them.

  “My garden club is hosting this year’s Spring Ball,” Gram Elsie told me. “And guess who’s president of the decorations committee?”

  “My lovely bride, that’s who,” chimed in Grandpa Morris. “How do you like that?”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said. I chatted with them for a few more minutes, as they told me all the details of their life down in Florida. Then I hung up, feeling unsatisfied. I always love talking to my grandparents, but this time something felt “off” about the conversation. Why didn’t they want to talk about Eli? I stood there, staring at the phone for a few seconds. Then I shrugged and went back into my mom’s room to see how Eli was doing.

  “Ssshhh!” said my mom, as I walked in. She was just lowering a sleeping Eli into his crib. “Nighty night,” she whispered to him, as she pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. I stood next to her, gazing down at him. When I looked back at her, I saw that she was wearing that peculiar expression again.