Kindergarten Baby: A Novel Read online

  “I wish you could talk,” he told the dog.

  The living area was darkly decorated‌—‌black, overstuffed leather furniture, dark blue velvet drapes, and dark wood floors covered with more, and much darker rugs. Even with all the lights turned on, the place felt dark‌—‌and creepy. Totally out of place here in sunny Tucson. He couldn’t picture Anthony as a “dark” kind of guy, but looks could and often were deceiving. Maybe they couldn’t stand the heat‌—‌he laughed at the irony of that‌—‌and the décor simply kept them cooler on scorching hot days.

  At first glance, Jake noticed that the kitchen appeared to be more typical than the rest of the house. Several large windows covered by nothing more than sheer burgundy curtains, a large teak table that could seat six comfortably, and a wooden breakfast nook, as well as the usual kitchen appliances. He broke his own rule of not touching anything and opened the refrigerator, startled to find that both the fridge and freezer were almost empty. The stovetop and the oven were spotless‌—‌like new. He got the distinct impression there wasn’t much cooking or eating going on around there.

  Having spent far longer in Shawna’s and Anthony’s home than he’d intended, and still riding his vodka buzz, Jake began to enjoy his sleuthing. He headed down the hall toward the bedroom, but when he reached for the door knob of the first door, Wendell began to bark.

  “What is it, boy?” asked Jake. Good grief, he thought. This was beginning to feel like a twisted scene from Lassie. That would make him…‌Timmy. I’ve hit an all time low. “You’re right, Wendell. I shouldn’t be snooping around. Let’s go.”

  Jake, now regretting his rash decision to play detective, hurried toward the back door where he knew he’d find Wendell’s leash and dish. He gathered the items with such haste that the leash got caught on the door knob, and the dish fell to the cold hard floor with a jolting clatter, landing on its edge and rolling across the room. Wendell whimpered, as if he wanted to leave, and Jake couldn’t disagree. He didn’t know where Shawna and Anthony had gone or when they might return, but an air of urgency was upon him. He didn’t feel guilty‌—‌he hadn’t done anything illegal, after all‌—‌but it felt wrong.

  The dog dish had ended up under a bench in the breakfast nook area, so he stooped to pick it up. While he was there, he noticed a dusty, old envelope on the floor, just barely visible. He picked it up and was going to place it on the table when he read the word, DAD, scribbled in orange crayon across the front of the envelope. Strange. He knew for sure there were no kids living here. Curiosity got the better of him, and he shoved the envelope into his pocket before finally locking up the house, putting the key back under the mat, and heading for the car.

  They drove around for a while, needing some time and space away from Shawna’s dark, dim house before they got to Jake’s bright and airy apartment. Eventually they ended up at the Jack-in-the-Box drive-up window on Grant Road, where they sat quietly in the car and gulped down cheeseburgers. Wendell finished first, Jake was a close second.

  Both seemed satisfied, though the dog began to drool, and Jake reached into his pocket, hoping to find a handkerchief to soak up some of the slobber. Instead, he found the envelope. Stupid. By impulsively taking it, he had done something illegal. That made him a thief. Fortunately, he was fairly sure his accomplice wouldn’t talk.

  He decided he’d take a look and put it back another day. Obviously, neither Shawna nor Anthony gave it much value or importance, since it had been dropped carelessly on the floor. Maybe it didn’t even belong to either of them. Maybe it had been there for years. He opened the envelope and discovered a faded, cracked photograph of a very tall man and a very small boy. The man looked a little like Shawna‌—‌maybe her father. But who was the little boy?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Huddling on the icy, narrow trail made them feel even colder. The women knew they should keep going, keep moving, but they crouched in the darkness instead, holding each other tightly as the velocity of the wind increased and the temperature fell.

  “Did you hear that?” Lindsey whispered.

  “Hear what? All I can hear is the howling of the wind whipping around the canyon walls. That, and my heart beating inside my head.”

  “No. Come on, Laura. Listen. I think I hear something. It sounds like singing.”

  They paused and listened hard, then Laura nodded slowly. “You know, I think I hear it, too. Either we’ve lost our sanity, or we’re dead. We must be dead. We couldn’t be insane. Not us.”

  “No,” Lindsey agreed. “But I don’t want to be dead. Not yet. I saw ‘Our Town,’ and the dead were lifeless. Pain-free, but lifeless.”

  Laura snorted. “Brilliant deduction, Linds.”

  “But I don’t want to be insane, either.”

  “I’ll take insane over dead any day,” said Laura. “They have medication for insanity. There’s no pill for the dead.”

  “Well, we may not have a choice,” Lindsey said, sitting taller. “I hear Christmas carols. Maybe we’re dead and that’s our angel.”

  They sat silently for a few moments, getting colder by the second, listening for their angel. Yes, they both heard a voice, and it was definitely singing. Then the blustering, wintry gale suddenly stopped, producing a vacuum of stillness. Delicate snowflakes danced down from the sky, weaving a soothing, white blanket to cover the women up, tuck them in for the night.

  The singing came again. Their angel’s footsteps crunched on the ice and snow as he approached, and the voice grew louder.

  “Now the ground is white. Go it while you’re young. Take the girls tonight and sing this sleighing song.”

  But an angel would not have crunching footsteps or be singing Jingle Bells, especially the second verse.

  “Someone’s coming,” Lindsey exclaimed, shaking Laura. “We’re not dead. Wake up!”

  They both began to shout, and within minutes a man appeared, shining his large flashlight toward the shouting.

  “What the—” he began to say, taken back.

  “Can you help us to the top?” Laura cried.

  “Sure, but…‌why are you just sitting there? You’re going to freeze to death. You’ve got to keep moving.”

  “Please, no lectures,” Lindsey begged. “The slush turned to ice, we kept slipping…”

  The stocky, heaven sent stranger got right to work. He crouched down to them, then gave each a sip or two of brandy. The women started to come around, mentally returning to their old selves, though physically their bodies were still dangerously cold.

  “Well, no wonder you can’t get up the hill,” he muttered. “You’re not wearing crampons. You should always take crampons when hiking the canyon in the winter. Always! Here, I’ve got an extra pair. That will help one of you get up the trail, anyway. Ladies, on your feet. March in place for a minute.”

  He took charge like an army sergeant: no humor, and all business. Lindsey was grateful for that. She didn’t feel the least bit like laughing.

  “You, the taller one,” he said, pointing to Laura. “Let’s get the crampons on your feet. You’ll make it to the top. It’s really not that far. Just go one step at a time. Plant your foot firmly, making sure it has a good grip before lifting your other leg. You can do it.”

  He handed her an extra flashlight and explained that they’d be just a few steps behind her. Lindsey was smaller and weaker, and therefore more affected by the elements. Without crampons, she’d continue to slip and slide on this steep, dangerous part of the trail, so he placed her in front of him to keep her from slipping backwards.

  “We’re going to have to synchronize our steps,” he told her. “Don’t worry. This will work. Left foot first,” he instructed.

  They headed up the path like a very short centipede, with Lindsey about a foot ahead of him, his hands on her waist. This arrangement worked for about ten paces. Lindsey warmed up a little, which caused her hands and feet to tingle and sting as the circulation crept through her shivering body. Then she step
ped on an icy patch and skidded back into the stranger, nearly knocking him down. His strength, the gripping crampons, and his determination to get her up the trail all held fast. He quickly and carefully put both strong arms around her waist, held her tightly to him, and spoke firmly.

  “It’s okay. You’re all right. The trail’s slicker than I thought. So let’s try it this way for a while.”

  “Thanks,” was all she could say. She felt suddenly safe and even a little warm, wrapped in his arms, pressed firmly against the full length of his sturdy body. As they worked their way up the trail as one, Lindsey wondered if this experience was real or if it might be a dream. Either way, she liked it. Who was this helpful stranger, this mysterious angel? It didn’t matter. Dream or not, for the moment he was her very own knight in shining armor, the prince saving her from a fate far worse than sleeping for a hundred years.

  ***

  Brad grew impatient, waiting for his dad. They’d agreed to meet for drinks before his dinner date with Lindsey and Laura, but he was late. He tapped a steady beat on the heavy wooden table with the swizzle stick from his second cognac.

  “Been waiting long?”

  “Hell, yes, Dad. As a matter of fact I have.”

  “Well, sorry. I needed a few things that I’d left in my old room, but I didn’t want to bother the girls. As it turned out, they weren’t there anyway.”

  “They weren’t in the room? That’s funny. I’d have thought they’d be showering, doing their hair or whatever other stuff women do before going out. They’re meeting me here in about thirty minutes.”

  “No. No sign of them, so I was able to get what I needed. I forgot to ask how long they were staying. Maybe I should go back and get all my things out of the room.” He put up one hand, gesturing to the waitress. “So tell me. Have you come up with any good ideas for our new catalog? I assume that’s why you wanted to meet me tonight.”

  “Sure I have, Dad. I’m always thinking about the catalog. But that’s not why I wanted this meeting.” He frowned. “I know what you’re up to.”

  “Up to? My dear son, how can you think such a thing? I’m not up to anything.”

  “I think you are. I ended up in bed with Laura last night.”

  “Mazel Tov!” declared his happy father. “You’re not wasting any time, for a change. You’ve moved too slowly in the past, son. Life’s too short, and you’re not getting any younger. You need a wife. You need children. You need—”

  “Don’t you mean you need a daughter-in-law, and you need grandchildren?” Brad asked, feeling heat rise in his face. “Besides, aleyn iz di neshome reyn1.”

  “Oy, vey. You’re breaking my heart. I’m only thinking of you. I just want you to settle down and be happy. So you slept with Laura. Was that the feisty redhead, or the sensible brunette?”

  “Laura has red hair.”

  “Oh, good. Good choice, son. I, myself, wasn’t sure. They each had something special about them. I couldn’t choose.”

  Brad scowled at his father. “I didn’t choose Laura, Dad. I was set up, and you know it. I stumbled into the room in the dark and fell into the bed closest to the door. It just happened to be the bed Laura was sleeping in. She screamed; we all screamed. It wasn’t good, Dad.”

  His father held his hands up, shaking them and grinning. “Ah, but this was good. This was better than good. God has chosen for you. Don’t you see that?”

  Brad sighed. “Oh, please. Spare me the religion. It was just one of your calculated pranks that went awry. I’m just worried that after they thought about the awkward event of last night, they might have decided to forgo having dinner with me. And I really was looking forward to their company. I was looking forward to seeing both of them. They’re fun to be with, and they’re intelligent. They’re both teachers.”

  Brad’s father sat quietly, then looked his son in the eye. “Shtil vasser grobt tif.2”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  Shrugging, he replied, “Oh, nothing. I just like to say it.”

  A commotion arose in the hotel lobby, and a noisy, inquisitive crowd gathered in front of the massive stone fireplace.

  “Should we call a doctor?”

  “How long were they down there?”

  “That one doesn’t look so good.”

  Brad’s eyes widened when he heard Laura’s weak voice. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she said. “I just need to warm up a little.”

  Lindsey stood beside Laura in silence, shivering uncontrollably as other guests helped her out of the sweat-soaked coat and sweaters, then covered her with their coats and offered sips of warm drinks. Was it the noise, the thawing, the exhaustion, or the alcohol? No one knew for sure.

  Brad and his father worked their way close to the women just in time to hear Lindsey say weakly, “I’m going to be sick.”

  ***

  Just in time, her hero scooped her up and carried her off to the ladies room, where he continued his princely activities by carefully holding her hair back from her face as she vomited. His voice soothed her, told her everything would be all right, even said this awkward cleansing was, in fact, a good thing.

  After the retching had ceased, the déjà vu set in. This was her second experience vomiting in the presence of a man, but the only other time it had been Anthony. The thought of that fateful day brought forth more bile, and the heaving continued. When she was done, Lindsey was overwhelmed again, this time with embarrassment. Here she was, in a compromising situation with a nice looking, obviously kind and strong stranger‌—‌in the ladies room!

  “I’m so sorry,” she managed. She struggled to her feet, and he helped her reach the sink, where she rinsed her mouth out and splashed water on her face. “I don’t know what happened today. Everything went wrong.”

  “No problem,” said the stranger. He gently dabbed at her face with a warm, damp towel. “Probably a good night’s sleep is all you need, but I do think you ought to be seen by a doctor.”

  She smiled weakly. “Oh, I’m fine now. Really. In fact I’m supposed to have dinner in the El Tovar dining room with friends, so I should try to find them. Why don’t you join us?”

  He looked slightly startled by her request, but she smiled, trying to persuade him.

  “All right,” he said a bit reluctantly. “Thanks. But first, there’s one thing I need to know. And there’s one thing you need to know.”

  “What do you need to know?”

  “Your name. I insist on knowing the names of all the women I rescue.”

  It was hard to read him, to figure out if he was being serious or just joking. “Lindsey,” she told him. “Lindsey Sommerfield. From Tucson. And what do I need to know?”

  “My name,” he said, smiling. “Most people call me Emmett. Now, with introductions out of the way, and since you say you’re up to it, let’s have some dinner.”

  But as soon as Lindsey took her first step, the ladies room went dark, as if she were falling down a deep, narrow rabbit hole. The circle of light at the end shrank as she slipped into an oblivious state of unconsciousness.

  She awoke hours later, and the first thing she saw was Laura’s frowning expression. “You gave us quite a scare last night, Linds,” she said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be sorry. None of it was your fault.” She grinned. “Besides, things turned out pretty good. Even great, don’t you think?”

  “What are you talking about?” Lindsey asked. “What turned out great? All I remember is almost freezing to death, then throwing up in front of a perfect stranger.”

  Laura filled in all the missing pieces, telling her how she’d gone off for dinner with Brad and his father while Lindsey had been carried to her room. She smiled.

  “Emmett‌—‌your knight in sheepskin armor‌—‌kept vigil over you all night.”

  Lindsey gasped. “He was here in our room?”

  “He sure was, and he was wonderful. First he sent for a doctor, just to ma
ke sure you were all right. Then he got you tucked into bed—”

  “Oh my gosh. How did he…‌I mean, I’m wearing pajamas now, so—”

  “Lindsey, you’re blushing!” She chuckled. “I assure you, he was a total gentleman, and I helped. A lot, actually. Anyway, then he built a fire and sat next to you the whole time. He was still here when I got back from dinner. It doesn’t get much better than that, Lindsey, not even in one of your fairy tales.”

  Lindsey shook her head, confused. “I must have really been out of it, because the only thing I remember between the throwing up and right now is a dream oddly similar to the story of Emmett Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas.”

  “Well, Emmett’s definitely not an otter,” said Laura, and they both laughed. “He is a writer. A travel writer. He goes all over the world visiting and writing about tourist attractions.”

  “So he’s here working?”

  “Yep. That’s why he was on the trail. He was going to stay at and write about a Phantom Ranch winter, got halfway there and realized he’d grabbed the wrong pack before getting on the mule. Without his notebooks, pens, pencils, mini-recorder, and all that stuff, he felt it was a waste of time. So he headed back up the trail on foot to return another day. You know the rest. It was fate that brought the two of you together.”

  “Maybe,” Lindsey thought out loud. “And was it fate that placed Brad in your bed the night before?”

  “Definitely not! It was his dad.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. It was his dad’s doing. And I have to admit, I don’t mind the old man’s meddling one bit. Brad’s terrific. A perfect vacation fling.”