"Oh Christ...I don't believe this...oh shit...I wonder if he did it yet..."
"What in God's name are you talking about, Lawrence?"
There's a long pause. He swallows hard before he speaks again. "When Jeremy was first born they asked Peggy and me to take him if anything happened. But then...Peggy left me a month ago, took off with a cardiologist, so I asked him to change it. I don't know if he did, but knowing Roger...Oh God, Annemarie. I'm so sorry. No!" he yells suddenly, taking the phone from his ear and shouting at someone else in the room. "Put them off! I'm busy!"
There's female mumbling in the background.
"Heidi, I don't give a good goddamn. Put them off. In fact, clear the rest of my day. Now go. And close the door behind you." He returns to me. "Okay, okay," he says, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself. "So if Roger didn't sort out something else, they're going to put the kid in foster care?"
"Yes."
"And they won't just let you be the foster parent?"
"Yes, but apparently it takes four to six months to get licensed, and in the meantime, they're taking him back to Minnesota to place him with strangers, never mind that I'm the closest thing he's got to a..." Now it's me who has to pause. "Lawrence, I know you and I never saw eye to eye, and I know that I was...oh hell, I was selfish and self-centered and confused and difficult and a whole lot of other things when I was younger, and if I were you, I'm not sure I would have liked me either. But I've changed. I swear to God, I've changed. I want to do the right thing here. That baby belongs with Eva and me. We're his family. Please, please--whatever you may have thought of me in the past, please help me."
There's a long silence.
I breathe steadily, waiting.
"Where can I reach you?" he says finally. "I'll look into this right away."
I give him the hotel's phone number.
"Do you also have a cell?"
"Yes, but if I'm in the hospital it'll be turned off. You can leave a message, though."
"Give me the caseworker's name and phone number."
I do.
"Hold tight, Annemarie. Roger has friends. So do I. We'll figure this out. I promise you. We'll figure this out."
When I hang up, I sit on the edge of the bed pressing a fist into the center of my chest.
Day before yesterday I was still angry at Roger for leaving me and I hated Sonja outright. Ten minutes ago Lawrence wasn't willing to take my phone call.
Now I'd do anything to bring Roger back. Even Sonja--for whom I have a new respect now that I know her circumstances, and that she made it through law school anyway. And perhaps most surprising of all, Lawrence and I--and I assume half the judicial system in Minnesota--are now in cahoots to secure custody of Jeremy.
An event like this rewrites everything. Absolutely everything. And then as a final gesture, it chucks the pen in the trash.
My head pounds so badly I wonder if I'm having a stroke. It would be somehow fitting--one parent after another in our family, popping off like a string of firecrackers. Did Pappa have any idea what he was starting? I am seized with irrational and sudden terror, see an attractive opening, and dive through onto the soft crash pad of superstition.
Things come in threes. So. We're done. I'll analyze no further.
I go into the bathroom and root through my toiletries until I find some ibuprofen. Then, I'm ashamed to admit, I root through Mutti's things, hoping to find some Valium.
And then, as much as I'd love to continue to just lie on the bed (my God! I've been lying on the bedspread! The bedspread!), I realize that I really ought to go back to the hospital. There's nothing more I can do until I hear from Lawrence.
As I step into the hallway and pull the door shut behind me, I turn my head to the left. And then I freeze, because four doors down from me, with a suitcase sitting beside him, fiddling with the card that's supposed to give him access to his room, is a tall man with broad shoulders.
His head turns at the exact same moment as mine.
"Dan!" My hands fly to my face. My eyelids flicker.
Before I know it, I'm seeing black-and-white zaps through the fluttering wings of a butterfly. Just as my eyes slam shut, I see him cross the space between us. My knees dissolve beneath me, but it doesn't matter because his arms are already around me.
Chapter 17
I think he carries me to his room. At any rate, the next time I'm fully aware of my surroundings, I'm on the edge of a queen-sized bed in a room that's not mine, leaning against Dan, allowing my body to melt against his and relishing the feel of his limbs, his warmth, his strength.
Whatever happened before is unimportant. It's okay if he doesn't want to marry me. It's a piece of paper. A mere formality. He loves me. I know this. He's here, isn't he? He's here, and I don't give a damn, I don't give a damn, I don't give a damn about anything else. And I'm never letting him go again.
I fall completely apart, blubbering incomprehensible news into his shoulder. I break down like I've never broken down before, and suddenly can't imagine what had previously held me together--whatever it was, it had all the staying power of paper clips and masking tape.
But he grasps all. He understands me even though I speak jagged words with a tongue three times its normal size and take frequent breaks to choke with the violence of my sobs, my body wracked by spasms.
Eventually, my body's survival instincts kick in and I begin to calm down. I lean against Dan, waiting for the stress chemicals to dissipate. They do, subsiding in lessening waves. Dan just holds me.
Finally I am still. We're lying on the bed now, spoon style, with his arms wrapped around me and his knees tucked in behind mine.
"So you're taking Jeremy?" he says.
"I'm trying my damnedest. It looks like I might get him eventually, unless Roger and Sonja made other arrangements. And unless the state finds my circumstances to be less than ideal."
"They won't."
"What about our police records?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have police records."
"We don't?"
"Of course not. Nobody was convicted of anything. None of you was even arrested."
"What about the interrogations?"
"Trust me. They don't show up."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. Don't forget I deal with criminal animal neglect all the time. I see the same people time and time again, but if they don't get convicted, their records are clean and there's not a damned thing anyone can do to prevent them from turning around and getting other animals."
"But what about the home inspection? Our house is so small Jeremy wouldn't even have his own room--unless I kick Eva out of hers, but even if I do that, I'll already be sleeping in the study, so where does that leave Eva? We can't turn every downstairs room into a bedroom. And I doubt they'll be impressed if I install him in the stable apartment with me."
"The stable apartment is perfectly fine. And besides, even if that's where he sleeps for a while, it will only be temporary."
"What do you mean?"
Dan struggles into a sitting position. I roll so that I'm facing him.
He stares at me. Hard.
"Dan, what do you mean?"
"Annemarie, I should have explained this a long time ago because obviously it became an issue between us. I should never have let it go that far. The thing is, I had a vision of how this should happen, and I guess I was a little pigheaded about it."
I think I've stopped breathing.
"We haven't gone anywhere or done anything recently because I was saving up." He digs a hand into his jeans and pulls out a wadded tissue. "I know how you feel about the trailer, and I always assumed we'd adopt, so I've been saving up to build a proper house. I wanted it to be a surprise."
I struggle onto my elbows, staring at the crumpled tissue as he carefully peels away its edges. He stares at it awkwardly, and then hands it to me. "It looked better before I had it baked into a souffle."
In the center of the tissue
is a diamond ring. At least I think it's a diamond. The whole thing is encrusted with chocolate.
"Before you...Oh my God. Dan, why didn't you come after me?"
"I followed you as far as the door, but I couldn't leave the souffle. And to be honest, I was more than a little annoyed. You gave me no chance whatever to explain."
"Oh God, Dan, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. And then I--" I clap a hand to my mouth, horrified. "Oh, Dan. I'm a horrible human being."
"Horrible, no. Stubborn and completely impossible, definitely."
"You tried to explain, and I wouldn't even listen. Not only did I not listen to you but I..." I drop my gaze. "I'm not sure I should tell you this."
"What?"
"No. I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because I'm afraid you'll get mad and leave."
"Annemarie, you've done eight million stupid things since I've known you, and where am I?" He puts his finger beneath my chin and lifts my face so that he's staring me straight in the eye. "Hmm? Where am I?"
I look at him sheepishly. "I was hiding in Hurrah's stall when you came to the stable. I was crouched beneath his water bucket. In fact, my hair got stuck in the handle when I stood up."
He stares at me for a moment, and then plucks the ring from between my thumb and forefinger.
My jaw drops.
He rises and goes into the bathroom.
I am speechless, mortified. Paralyzed, even. I realize I acted like a complete and utter idiot, but surely, surely, he's not mad enough to flush my ring down the toilet?
"Dan--" I wail from the bed, dissolving once again into tears.
He closes the door and turns on the fan. Despite this cover, strange noises emerge. Water running, rhythmic swishing. Is he brushing his teeth? He wants to dump me with fresh breath?
The door opens and Dan emerges. He stands in the doorway for a moment, his head cocked to the side, eyes drilling holes through my head.
"Dan, I--" I start desperately.
"Shhh," he says, crossing the room. "You can talk in a minute, but not right now. Right now you're not allowed to say a word."
I shut my mouth.
He lowers himself onto the bedspread beside me and takes my left hand in his. With his right, he produces a minty-fresh and sparkling diamond.
"Annemarie," he says, gazing into my eyes, "will you do me the very great honor of--"
I grasp his head in both hands, and smush my mouth into his.
After all, he did forbid me to speak.
I feel guilty for the joy I feel and the love we make because its intensity rivals the horror and grief that have filled my heart for two days. But then I realize the grief is still there, and what we just did was life-affirming and good.
"We've got to get back to the hospital," I say suddenly, extricating myself and grabbing my clothes.
"Yes, of course."
I struggle into my bra and pull on my underwear. "But first I need to stop by my room and see if Lawrence left a message."
Dan simply nods. When we're both dressed, he steps forward and opens the door for me.
When we reach my room, the red light on the telephone is blinking.
"Oh God," I say, rushing over. "Oh shit." My hands flap beside my face. "How do you pick up messages? My brain is fried. Dan, help!"
He comes around to the table between the beds and takes the receiver from my hands.
"Dan, wait!"
He freezes, waiting for me to explain myself. Since I don't, he says, "What?"
"I don't know if I want to know."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want them to have made other arrangements for Jeremy. I want that baby. I don't just want a baby. I want that one."
Dan watches my face for a moment, glances at the keypad, and then presses a single button. Then he hands me the phone.
"Annemarie, this is Lawrence. I've got copies of Roger's and Sonja's wills. They didn't designate anyone as a guardian for Jeremy, but they did leave fairly specific instructions about burial. They wanted to be cremated and have their ashes interred with those of Roger's parents."
A pang runs through me, because at one point that was where I was supposed to end up. Roger and I fought about it because lapsed or not, I was born a Catholic and felt I should end up in consecrated ground. You know, just in case I'm wrong about the whole God thing. Roger won that one, mostly because I didn't have a whole lot of room for argument. I'd been spewing my belief of dead-as-dead for as long as he'd known me, and my own family didn't even have a burial plot--yet.
So much has changed. And yet, in his unimaginative Roger-ish way, I imagine that part of his will is exactly the same, cut and pasted with just the name of the wife swapped out.
"The executor is Terry Hatchett, someone Roger and I both play golf with--"
Dear God. He's still talking about Roger in the present.
"--I just got off the phone with him. Since he's the executor and Roger was so specific about final arrangements, Terry can take care of all of it, although it's fine if you want to be involved. Now, about that boy. I don't have any specific news yet, but I want you to know that Terry is working on it at this very moment. Meanwhile, I'm checking out another angle. I'll try back in a bit, but if you haven't heard from me in a couple of hours, please call. Hang in there, Annemarie. Oh! God, I think I forgot to mention that Terry is a federal judge. For what that's worth."
There's a click, and then an unpleasant automated voice asking if I'd like to delete, replay, or save the message. I seem incapable of choosing, so I simply hang up.
"What's up?" says Dan. "Was that Lawrence?"
I nod.
"And?"
"And...they didn't specify a guardian."
I'm in such a hurry I bang my hip on the bedside table while snatching my purse from the bed. Then I rush from the room, with Dan following close behind.
The scene that greets us at the door to Jeremy's room would be heartwarming under different circumstances.
Mutti and Eva are sitting on the window seat with Jeremy sprawled between them. Mutti is at his head, and Eva at his feet. He's wearing a baby-sized hospital gown--one of those flannel things with a tie at the neck and a completely open back. They've lifted it up to his armpits and are taking turns leaning forward and applying zerberts to his exposed tummy.
Jeremy goes into spasms of glee before their lips even reach his belly. His giggles are so uncontained, so delighted, that once again I'm in danger of breaking down.
When Eva and Mutti see Dan, they stop. They turn as one, searching my face for a signal. My hands are steepled, held up against my lips, trembling. Mutti's eyes pop open. Eva's eyebrows rise.
They've seen my ring.
Dan crosses the room and drops down beside Eva.
"I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry," he says, gathering her in his arms.
She twists at the waist to meet him, and has more or less the same reaction I had: she dissolves against him and howls.
Jeremy's eyes widen. Then he opens his mouth and shrieks in sympathy. Mutti scoops him off the window seat, and sets off across the room, singing into his ear and jiggling up and down. I rush to the door, close it, and then return to the window seat. Dan still has his arms wrapped around Eva, so I sit behind them and wrap my arms around both of them as far as I can reach.
Eventually Eva's outburst subsides. Shortly thereafter, Jeremy also falls quiet. Mutti brings him back to the window seat and perches on the edge. And there we sit, the five of us.
After a while, Dan says, "May I hold him?"
Mutti rises immediately and deposits Jeremy on his knee. "His head is still a bit wobbly, so be careful," she says. Dan slides his hands beneath the baby's arms. His hands are so large they meet behind Jeremy's back.
"Well, look at you," he croons, leaning down to look into Jeremy's eyes. Dan is wearing an expression I've never seen before. He's soaking in every detail.
Jeremy's dark blue eyes widen. His bottom lip q
uivers. And then he opens his mouth and bawls, his tongue undulating behind toothless gums. His fists tremble, his eyes scrunch shut.
"Oh, sorry, sorry!" Dan says hastily, holding him up toward Mutti.
"Here, I'll take him," I say, swooping him away.
Jeremy looks doubtful, but when I murmur and rock back and forth, he relaxes and falls quiet.
Dan lifts Eva's hand and holds it in both of his. She doesn't look at him, but I notice her fingers curl around his.
"Ursula, how are you holding up?" says Dan.
"Ech," replies Mutti. "As well as I can. In situations like this, that's all you can do."
Dan nods. He looks up suddenly, glancing around the room. "I had hoped I'd never see the inside of a hospital again after Jill died," he says.
Everyone is quiet for almost a full minute.
"Say, it's almost two o'clock," Dan says suddenly, releasing Eva's hand and patting his thighs. "Have any of you eaten yet?"
"The nurses brought us trays, but since they couldn't guarantee that the food was vegan, young miss here wouldn't touch it," says Mutti.
"Vegan, huh?" says Dan, glancing at Eva.
She nods. There's just the slightest hint of pride about her lips.
"I think we'd better go out and get some food into you," Dan says, rising.
"No," says Eva. "We can't leave Jeremy."
"You go," I say. "I'll stay with Jeremy. You too, Mutti."
"Are you sure, Liebchen?" says Mutti. "I could stay with you."
What she's really asking is if there's any news, other than what is obvious from my left hand.
"No, I'll be fine. Take your time. We'll catch up later."
She nods in understanding and turns away.
"Oh!" she says, spinning back. "If Jeremy gets hungry, there's a kitchen just down the hall to the right. There's no door. You'll see it. There are bottles of formula and disposable nipples in boxes on the counter. He uses the orthodontic kind."
"The what kind?"
"The ones that are not round. The nipples are flat on one side--never mind, you'll see. Just screw one onto a bottle, and you're good to go. And they want us to record how much he drank and when on this chart."
"When did he last eat?"
Mutti consults her watch. "Forty minutes ago. You can probably put him down for a nap." She turns to face Dan and Eva. "All right then. Let's go find some rabbit food."
As they leave, Dan pauses just long enough to kiss me. He also plants a light kiss on the back of Jeremy's head.