Garden of Stones - By Sophie Littlefield Page 0,101

waiting, took a walk to the viewing window. There, in neat rows of bassinets, were the newest babies fate had seen fit to toss onto the unwelcoming shores of this life. On either side of Lucy, two new fathers regarded their babies with what seemed like equal parts terror and pride.

She scanned the white cards until she found the one: Baby Girl Sloat. There. The little bundle shifted, a tiny arm stretching and a sweet mouth opening in a yawn below a shock of inky, untamed hair, and Lucy fell in love. In the passing of a single second, she realized she could never allow Mary’s daughter to be given over to the orphanage, where her mixed race would ensure that she was never adopted.

“I will save you,” she mouthed silently. She watched the baby sleep for a while, her promise taking shape in her mind, the life she would create for them both.

* * *

Several months earlier, Mary had come to Lucy while she was cleaning room four. “I want to talk to you about something,” she said, locking the door behind her.

Lucy had been on her knees, dusting the baseboards. She got to her feet, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. They looked at each other for a moment. Then Mary extended one clenched fist and uncurled her fingers one by one, revealing every dollar that Lucy had managed to save.

“You picked a good hiding place,” Mary said. “Just not good enough.”

Lucy could have her money back, three times over—enough for a bus ticket and a few months’ rent—and all she had to do was go with Mary to a place she had heard about, where they could wait until the baby came. Mr. Dang would never know. Leo would never know. Everyone in Lone Pine, including Garvey, would think that Lucy was off bearing his bastard child, and when Mary returned to town, she would take up where she’d left off—and hire a new maid.

The baby would be placed in an orphanage, Lucy would be free to start a new life in the city, and if all the residents of a dusty desert purgatory figured they knew the story, and only got the characters wrong, what would it matter? Lucy’s future wasn’t in Lone Pine.

“I won’t do it,” Lucy had said, horrified. “I won’t have him thinking...that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mary said with cruel amusement. “You went and fell in love, didn’t you? I suppose I should have seen it coming—the two of you, it’s sort of sweet.”

She smoothed the stack of bills she held in her hand and tucked them into her purse. “Of course...there aren’t a whole lot of places a girl like you can go with no money and no job.”

Would she really do something so heartless? Lucy wondered. “I’ll call Sister Jeanne,” she said uncertainly.

Mary snorted. “Good luck, then. You know they’re sending all the orphans back where they came from. Poor Sister Jeanne has her hands full, I’m sure. Why, I bet she doesn’t even know where she’s going to go when this is all over.”

Lucy felt sick. She’d been cornered, outfoxed, and neither of them had even mentioned the worst possibility of all.

“I could tell Garvey,” she whispered.

“Yes, I suppose you could. Let’s think about that for a moment, shall we? No doubt Garvey would tell Leo right away, and Leo would have no choice but to divorce me. The judge would dissolve the family trust, make us sell off the assets. He’d give Leo the lion’s share. Oh, I’d do all right, I suppose.... I’d have a little cash to start over. I’d have to get a job. I could be a maid, like you. Wouldn’t that be amusing?”

She laughed and then her nostrils flared and she glared at Lucy. “But Garvey? That’s another matter. The motel would be gone—he’d have to watch someone else run it, on the land that once belonged to him. I suppose he could rent out rooms in town, try to keep his taxidermy business going. But without you...do you think his heart would really be in it? Or wait—were you thinking he would actually take you with him? Marry you, perhaps? Oh—that would be one for the history books, wouldn’t it?” She laughed again, the sound chilling and mean. “I’m sorry, Lucy, I’m just trying to picture that wedding announcement. The photo of the happy couple. You...you could sit on his lap, wearing a white dress, while he wheeled you up over your new doorstep, into