and this money was not the jumble of rumpled bills of all denominations you'd get if you robbed a convenience store. This was the kind of money you'd get at a bank, two one-hundred-dollar bills, the rest in twenties: a compact little bundle, smooth and flat.
Chapter Five
Lunch that day was a real tense meal. I heated up soup and made grilled-cheese sandwiches, and we sat together at the kitchen table in uneasy silence. For once in my life, I wanted the phone to ring. Maybe the highway patrol would stop Regina's car. Martin had asked Cindy to try to discover the name of the cruise line with which Barby had sailed, and getting Barby here would be a great relief. Or my mother might tell me more about John's prognosis. I had so much to worry about my thoughts were running around inside my head like hamsters. Just as I began the dishes, I heard Hayden stirring, and this time he woke up ready to raise the roof.
I put a bottle in the microwave before I left the kitchen. I was getting numb from the unaccustomed responsibility for this baby. I had never been so tired in my life, and every time I heard him tune up to cry, I leaped into action to stave off any more wailing. My stomach clenched every time he made a noise. An hour later, I had changed Hayden, fed Hayden, burped Hayden - in short, fulfilled my part of the bargain. But he wouldn't go back to sleep. In my opinion, he should be out of the picture until the next feeding-changing-burping cycle; but it was one he didn't seem to share. Not knowing what else to do, I was holding the baby, sitting on the couch in the library, staring down at the round face with more than a little frustration. Furthermore, I had an awful feeling that the half-done dishes were still sitting on the counter in the kitchen.
"Listen, you need to give me a break," I said. "Don't you know I only have so many interior resources?" I definitely felt the cupboard was pretty bare in my interior resources closet.
Hayden regarded me wonderingly. He didn't seem to be concerned that he was at the mercy of a totally inadequate caregiver. His arms waved around. He made little noises, "eh" and a kind of creaky grunt being the most popular. With my free finger I touched the round cheek. It was so soft. Through his thin down of fair hair, I could see the pulsing place on the top of his head where his skull had not yet joined, or so Lizanne had explained it to me. It made this small life seem incredibly vulnerable.
I had a sudden, strange impulse: I would call my friend and priest, Aubrey Scott, and have him baptize Hayden.
If my hands had been free, I'd have slapped myself after I ran that idea through my head a second time. Baptism wouldn't put a protective candy coating on Hayden. He wasn't an M&M. And to assume the responsibility of having this child baptized would indicate I had given up on Regina bobbing to the surface to reclaim him, a terrible admission.
But I knew I would've felt a lot better if I could have just eased into the church and sort of casually had Aubrey sprinkle some water over this kid. I figured that Hayden Graham, son of Craig and Regina - if that was indeed who this child was - needed all the help he could get.
Confident that no one could hear me, I whispered, "You is booful baby." Hayden's hazy blue eyes focused on me. He smiled. My heart pounded suddenly, as if I'd just fallen in love. I beamed back at him as exaggeratedly as a children's TV show host.
Sally Allison said, "Your lips are gonna fall off if you keep that up."
I jumped. "Why'd you go and scare me like that, Sally? Good golly Miss Molly!
You about made me jump out of my skin!"
"Sorry. You and Tiny Tim here just looked so cute." Sally bent over to get a close look at my lapful.
"You heard about our predicament, I guess."
"Mild-mannered reporter Sally Allison sees all, tells most." "Got any news?" Having had her look, Sally threw herself in Martin's luxurious chair while my blood pressure finally settled back down to normal. "Hmmm. Well, police found Regina's car."
"What?"
"You heard me." Sally was carefully patting her right hand against her bronze curls, a gentle