Maternal Harbor (20 page)

The headlights flashed against a blue sign. 
Next Rest Stop 18 Miles
.  Teagan rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, pinching hard on the bridge of her nose.  When she focused again on the pavement, she realized night had submitted to the first grays of dawn. 

Lulled by the tires’ hum, her lids drooped and her head jerked up.  Horrified that she could’ve fallen asleep, she slapped her cheek.  The sting still smarted as she slowed for the exit and entered a curving downhill ramp.  Two plastic bottles of spring water she had stuffed close to the heater rolled across the floorboard.

The Idaho rest stop sat back from I-90 under a stand of ponderosa pines.  Teagan followed the curving road and parked near a secluded table away from a couple reading a historical board and two truckers smoking cigarettes by their idling semis.

Everything appeared cold and lonely, but safe.  Finally, she dug a container of Simalac from a grocery bag, dumped equal scoops of powder into baby bottles and added the heater-warmed spring water.  The label on the drinking water didn’t say sterile, but it was the best she could do for Levi and Jimmy.  She hoped her slack breasts would fill with milk once she relaxed a little and ate an apple, or had Erica killed that, too?

Teagan lugged three fussy babies, diaper bag, and a blanket across a stretch of dew-filled grass.  Her breath clouded in the nippy, pine-scented air.  Was it too chilly for the cranky babies?  They slurped their fists, caring nothing about the surroundings, or her tiredness, or her ineptness at handling three infants at one time.  Fishing the Bering Sea was a simple matter of hard work, same as her fish shop was.  Whatever made her think that staying afloat on choppy surf or above water with a small business would help her to know what babies needed?  Business had ups and downs; babies were a rollercoaster upheaval.

She dropped the bag from her numb fingertips onto the table and bent to gently ease Jimmy from her right arm onto the hard surface.  She laid a kicking, screaming Levi beside him.  They needed their mother’s warm breasts, not this cold cement table and bottles.

“Shush, shush, I know you want your mommies.”  Teagan spread the blanket and transferred them to the warmth of the cloth.  They squalled harder while she changed their diapers.  She propped the bottles.  Levi and Jimmy quieted and greedily suckled.

Blessing the end of their crying, she transferred Charlie from the sling to the blanket and quickly fastened a fresh diaper.  She sat down on the unfriendly cement bench.  Doubting her milk would flow, she uncovered her breast.  Charlie greedily latched on.  Suddenly her breasts tightened and milk streamed through to Charlie.  She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment’s rest.  Unbidden despair for her two friends stole in; she cried inside.  They desired only to raise their sons.  Pai’s last words that awful day echoed, “Before Jimmy, my life was a time of limbo, waiting for the joy he brings.”

Pai was so right, Teagan thought.  She and Doretta also taught me about kindred sisters, taught what a family could be.

Charlie squirmed, and Teagan rocked back and forth, gazing at his tender newborn face.  The wrinkles in his forehead and the curve of his brows were faint but promised a strong determined face.  “Oh Wee One, a dreadful woman wants to end that promise.  I should’ve known, should’ve done something.”

Teagan slumped, wishing she could go back in time to her simple worries about Mac needing a helper, or more orders for fish.  Protecting three babies left her weak with doubt.  One thing she knew for certain, she
would
seek revenge against Erica.  Hanging was too good for her, lethal injection too humane.  Erica would fry.  The surging anger kept sleep at bay.

“
You certainly have your hands full.”  The voice was female.

Teagan jerked awake.

A tall, plainly-dressed woman, cradling a black schnauzer, stood beside the table.  “I thought at first you had triplets, but I can see they aren’t.”  The dog jumped free and ran across the grass to a large boulder.

Quickly, Teagan detached her suckling child.

The woman turned away and watched her dog until Teagan covered herself and rose.  “You shouldn’t be napping out here where anyone could come up to you.”

The accusatory tone rankled Teagan.  “Your dog should be leashed.”

“Touché.  But Peppy’s a little fraidy-cat and won’t wander far.”  The woman drew her bulky cardigan closed at the neck.  “It’s chilly out here for babies.”

“
The blanket helps.”  Teagan slipped Charlie into the sling.  Both hands free, she faced the woman square on.

The woman’s brows arched.  “Are you offended?”

“You’re the stranger who came too close.”  Teagan waited for her to leave.

“
My name is Ruth Spencer.  I only mean to help.”  Her brown eyes conveyed the same message as her words.

Levi spit out his bottle and blew milk bubbles.  Jimmy did the same.

“I’ll burp one for you,” Ruth offered.

Teagan’s first instinct was to grab the boys and flee; instead, she surveyed the rest stop.  The couple was gone and the two semis rumbled for the Interstate.  Only Mac’s Buick and a tan Corsica remained.

Teagan’s hands stayed by her sides for a moment, then she re-tucked Levi’s receiving blanket and placed him into the stranger’s outstretched arms.  A light smile touched the woman’s eyes.  She gently lifted him to her shoulder, making sure the blanket stayed up around his head.  Her hand rubbed Levi’s back in a practiced way.  “It’s been a long time since I held a baby, but the feel of it doesn’t go away.”

“
I can tell you’ve raised children.”  Teagan lifted Jimmy to her shoulder and patted, waiting for air bubbles to pass.

Greedy light-eyed blackbirds darted near the garbage cans, squabbling in sharp cries.  Teagan chuckled.  “Those birds and baby boys are alike.  They both squall for food at the top of their lungs.”

“They have full tummies now.  Are they yours?”

After the peaceful burping of the boys, the sudden curiosity set Teagan on edge again.  She struggled for a reason to explain why she was at a rest stop on a chilly morning with three infants of different race.  Something near the truth?  “I’m keeping them safe for their mothers.”

“I don’t understand.”

“
Who can understand why men abuse women?”  Teagan held her breath.

An expression of concern registered across Ruth’s face.  “I’ll help you load them.”

“I’m going to stay here a little longer.”  Teagan met her gaze levelly, waiting for her to go.  But Ruth continued to sway gently, holding Levi against her shoulder and leaning her cheek against his head, her expression soft and faraway, like remembering a dream from long ago.  Teagan was at the point of asking her to leave when Ruth sighed and laid Levi on the blanket.

“
Come on, Peppy.  We have to go.”  At her Corsica, Ruth hesitated and looked back for a long moment.  Her head tilted toward Peppy like he knew an answer she didn’t.  She quickly slipped behind the wheel and drove away, a cell phone at her ear.

“
Shit, Charlie, she’s calling the flippin’ cops.”  Teagan adjusted Jimmy against her hip, slung the diaper bag onto her shoulder, and scooped up Levi.  She wanted to pick up the blanket, but her hands were too full.  Hating to leave it, she rushed to the Buick, loaded up, and sped onto I-90.  After a few tense miles of alternating between cursing herself and praying, she exited north.

The narrow two-lane road wound through foothills and cut into forested mountains.  In their shelter, the desperate fear of discovery lessened, and after a few more miles, she felt safe enough to ease her grip on the steering wheel.  She must relax, or she’d never make the next two-hundred miles through these humpbacks to Bryan’s jagged Rockies.

Weakness flooded into her shoulders and arms at the unexpected thought of him.  Sadly, she recalled his possessiveness of the rugged heights where they hiked; how his eyes echoed the wildness of the crest, how his kiss conveyed the windy, rocky ledge where they stood.  He shared his soul in the place he loved; she shared hers on the ocean beaches; they were so different, yet the same.  Maybe that’s why their love ended.  Her independence was as untamed as his mountains.  And his claim on her nature swelled in ever stronger waves, until all that remained were the spaces between sea level and mountain tops, and their love didn’t understand the ordinary places.

Teagan bit her bottom lip and refused to sink any deeper into memories.  He no longer shared her life, and he would be purged from her thoughts.

But the memory of his hand on her shoulder as they gazed across the valley remained, never completely banished, never could be.

A hundred and fifty miles to the east of Teagan, Bryan yielded to Fiona’s insistence on cooking breakfast herself.  Soon bacon sizzled in a cast-iron pan and filled the cabin with tempting odors.  Mitzi sat on her haunches, front paws tucked close to her chest, watching Fiona’s move until a bite of bacon was flipped her way.

Fiona cracked eggs into a bowl.  “Wonder how TJ’s doing with that bar of soap and the cold river.  Breakfast is almost ready.”

“
You’re the one who banished him before we ate.”  Bryan didn’t care if TJ ate cold eggs or if he ate at all.  One evening spent skirting any talk of why TJ ran from the cops rubbed against Bryan.  As far as he was concerned, everything should be discussed openly and honestly.

“
You’re in a right smart attitude.”  Fiona dropped eggshells into a two pound coffee can and glanced at him.  “Would you quit watching me like I’m gonna drop dead in my tracks.”

A long drawn out sigh escaped Bryan.  He allowed his disgust with TJ to annoy Fiona.  “I’m sorry,” he said and meant it.  He didn’t want to give her undue stress.

She kept her back to him.  Shoulders stiff, she flipped pancakes.

Bryan rubbed the bridge of his angular nose.  “Am I going to get the silent treatment from you too?”

She glanced back at him.  “I don’t think TJ is ready to tell us what happened.  Give him time.  Pressuring won’t help.”

And what about the pressure you’re putting on me?  Bryan pushed away the selfish thought.  “I will wait for his confession only because I want it to be his idea.”

“Confession?  See what I mean.  You got him strung up already.”

“
Grandma, don’t you realize we’re aiding and abetting a fugitive?”

“
Nonsense.”  The hot platter of bacon and eggs clattered when she shoved them to the back of the stove to keep warm.  “Go call him.”

“
He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“
Quit snarling around.  You agreed to help him.”  Fiona’s snapping eyes conflicted sharply with the lines around her mouth and the pallor of her skin.  The veins on the backs of her hands were purplish and appeared bruised.

Bryan wanted to hold her, fight her disease with his own strength.  Instead, he rose and walked out the door to find a kid with . . . what kind of a problem?

Thoughts of the mouth-watering breakfast cooling on the stove pushed Bryan into a jog.  He increased his speed and the crisp fall air burned his cheeks, foggy breath whipped back at him.  His footsteps squished into the muddy trail and made sucking sounds each time his heels left the gumbo soil.  Casting shadows, the morning sun dappled through the dense forest and strained his eyes.  He squinted as the pristine river broke into view.

TJ wasn’t in the water.

Bryan stopped, listening to the forest sounds: water lapped on the rocky shore, a pair of ravens cawed in the top of a birch, and a pine squirrel scolded both him and the birds.  He strained to hear any sound that didn’t fit, like a snapping twig or clinking against rocks.  Nothing.  He hurried across the river rocks to the shoreline and searched the bank.  The used bar of soap lay on a raised boulder a few feet from shore.  The swift current swept downstream, then boiled near a bend.

“
Looking for my floating corpse?”  TJ asked behind him.

“
Fiona expects you to bring back the soap and to be at the breakfast table before the eggs freeze.”  Bryan strode away before TJ could respond.

Soon TJ’s footfalls thudded on the trail behind him.

I should demand to know what kind of criminal I’m harboring, Bryan thought.  And how many years in prison it might cost.  Fiona’s request to help TJ stilled his tongue.

“
Give me some cash and I’m outa here,” TJ said when he caught up.

Bryan halted and turned.  “You think I
owe
you something?”

“
I’m
your
guest, remember?”  The cast of TJ’s expression and stature belied the sarcasm.  He appeared afraid and bewildered, like he’d stepped into a maze with no idea of how he’d gotten inside, or how to get out.

“
Where’s your family?”  Bryan asked in a way that conveyed concern, yet demanded a no nonsense answer.

“
At home.”

Bryan walked away before he punched him.  He’d go check in with Fiona, and then leave her to deal with TJ while he went for a hike.  A silent mountainside might keep him from exploding.  Might not.