Bundle of Trouble - By Diana Orgain Page 0,45

the gun, George?” I demanded.

Jim’s hands flew to George’s neck, knocking him off balance and to the ground. Jim jumped on top of him, never releasing his grip.

Just then a police cruiser appeared. Two police officers exploded out of the car and charged toward us. By the time they reached us, George had thrown a punch squarely at Jim’s chest. Jim had stopped strangling George long enough to punch him in the face.

One officer brushed me aside and pulled Jim off George.

The other officer pulled George to his feet. “Are you all right, sir? Do you need any medical assistance?”

George shook his head, wiping blood from his nose. Jim continued to yell at George, even though the officer was restraining him.

“Wait! Wait!” I yelled to the officer holding Jim. “They’re brothers!”

The other officer asked George, “Would you like to press charges, sir?”

“You bet your ass I would,” George said.

“Charges?” I said. “They were both fighting!”

“He tried to strangle me,” George said. “And look at my face!”

The officer holding Jim proceeded to handcuff him.

“Would you like to follow us to the station, sir?” the other officer asked George.

“The station?” I repeated.

The officer holding Jim hustled him toward the patrol car. I ran after them in time for the cop to slam the door between us.

“I’ll follow you to the station, okay, honey?” I yelled to Jim through the closed window.

Jim nodded as the cruiser engine started up. He raised his shackled hands and pointed at me through the window, indicating for me to look down.

I glanced at my shirt. It was soaked.

Blood?

Nope. My milk had leaked all over me.

Great, just great.

At the station, Jim was processed, George had yet to show up, and I sat on a hard orange chair trying to cover up my breasts by crossing my arms.

I had searched my car for a jacket, but had found nothing except baby paraphernalia. My trunk always has extra junk in it, but after it had been broken into, Jim had cleaned it out for me.

I called home in a panic, imagining Laurie starving to death.

Mom said Laurie was sleeping peacefully and hadn’t noticed my absence in the least. I tried to ignore my feelings of rejection. When I told Mom that Jim and I had found George, she surprised me by saying, “He’s here.”

“What?”

“George is here. He said Jim told him you had some of his things.”

Holy cow! Not home alone with my newborn and my mom.

Although George had always been kind to my mom and me, recent events made me nervous about him being at my house now.

“I’ll be right there,” I said to Mom.

I spoke with the arresting officer about releasing Jim, given the fact that George had obviously changed his mind about pressing charges.

“I can’t release your husband yet, ma’am.”

“Why not? No one’s pressing any charges against him.”

“He broke the law, ma’am. I have specific instructions not to release him just yet.”

“Instructions? From whom?”

“My commanding officer, ma’am.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“Her, ma’am, and she’s not available at the moment.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Look, isn’t there someone I can talk to about—”

“Ma’am, your husband’s case will be reviewed by the DA within seventy-two hours, or he may be released on his own recognizance earlier, but not right now. That’s all I can tell you.”

Seventy-two hours!

“Can I speak with my husband?”

The officer gave me a tight-lipped smile. “It’s probably best if you go home. He’ll be able to call you later.”

I pulled into the garage and heard Laurie wailing. I ran up the stairs and saw Mom and George hovering over the bassinet in the living room.

I picked up Laurie and examined her while glaring at George. Mother and George looked at me curiously. How could I explain to them that I had been afraid that George might hurt Laurie?

“She’s hungry,” Mom said.

I evaluated George. He absently rubbed his eye, where a bruise was starting to form.

Laurie wailed at me. George slumped onto the couch looking exhausted. Since he appeared nonthreatening at the moment and Mom seemed unafraid, I decided I’d better feed Laurie.

“Give me a minute,” I said, over my shoulder, as I walked down the hallway.

Mom and George continued their small talk.

I tried to eavesdrop on Mom and George as I breastfed, but I couldn’t hear much. Our house was old San Francisco construction, made with three-by-six wood beams instead of two-by-fours. The result was great sound-proofing.

I finished nursing Laurie, burped her, then set her down in the bassinet to sleep.

When I emerged, Mom