Saving Grace (5 page)

My feet hurt and my arms ached, but every time I thought about stopping I remembered Justin on that phone, selling me out. That made me feel like there was a hand inside me, squeezing my stomach, and I'd walk faster then because I knew I had to get away from Justin, from this place, from everyone, because nobody was going to take my baby away from me.

Finally the trail took us by a park and a big building that reminded me of the Y at home. There were a couple of benches out in front of the place, and I sat down for a rest. The bottoms of my feet were burning.

I set Brianna up beside me. She was asleep again. I studied her face, trying to figure out who she looked like—Justin or me. She had my hair, that's for sure. And she yelled like me when she was pissed. But I couldn't tell about the rest. Mostly she just looked like herself.

Everyone always said I looked like my mom except for I had my dad's temper. I didn't see how I looked like her at all, except for the color of our hair—a sort of dark reddish brown. I mean, I wouldn't have minded looking like her because she was beautiful. She had brown eyes like chocolate, and her skin was so perfect she didn't have to put anything on it. And she could eat anything and not gain weight.

But the best thing about her was her laugh. It would make you laugh too when you didn't even know what was funny. I missed my mom laughing. Nobody laughed in my house after she died. My dad hardly even smiled.

Three girls came across the grass in my direction. They were talking so they didn't even notice me until they were almost at the bench, but then one of them spotted Brianna.

“Oh, look, a baby,” she squealed. She bent over the car seat. “She's so cute.”

“Thanks,” I said.

The other two leaned in for a look. “She's so tiny,” one of them said.

“Is she yours?” the first girl asked me.

I nodded.

“She's adorable. How old is she?”

“Five months,” I said. I reached over and pushed Brianna's hat back a bit so they could see her face.

“Look at her chubby little cheeks,” one of them said.

“I'm Stephanie,” the first girl said. She was wearing a purple sparkly top and jeans, and her blond hair was in a high ponytail with long bits down around her face. “I don't think I've seen you before. You must go to Cumberland.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm E—” Wait a minute. I shouldn't use my real name. “—Eden. My name's Eden,” I said.

“What's your baby's name?” Stephanie asked.

“Brianna,” I said.

One of Stephanie's friends looked up from the car seat. “I like that name,” she said. “It's classy.”

“Are you going to the dance?” the other girl asked. Her dark hair was all curls, just the way I wished I could get my hair to look, but it never did, even with a perm.

“No. I'm...um...I'm waiting for my boyfriend.”

Stephanie looked at her watch. “Hey, we better get going,” she said. She gave me a little wave. “See you, Eden.”

“Yeah, see you,” I said. I watched them cut across the grass and go into the building. I heard a burst of music, for a second, when the door opened. I wondered what Jade and my other friends were doing at home. They would have already gone swimming and hooked up with some guys. They were probably at a party somewhere now.

I looked over at Brianna. I didn't care about parties and dances anymore. I was a mother now and I had a lot more important stuff to do.

My stomach growled. I realized how hungry I was. It had been hours since I'd eaten. I'd had lunch. Had I had any supper? I couldn't remember. I stood up, put on my pack and picked up Brianna. There had to be somewhere around here where I could get something to eat.

I headed back along the trail again. I heard a barking dog and a car door slam, but I didn't see any other people. Did
this whole place shut down once it got dark? I was watching for a Dairy Queen or something like that, but all I passed was houses. How rinky-dink was this place if it didn't have a Dairy Queen or a Burger Barn?

And then finally I saw something. The sign on the roof said
Fern's
, and it was almost as big as the building. There weren't any cars out front, but there was a lit red
Open
sign in the window. My stomach growled again. Okay, so it wasn't the Burger Barn, but it would do. I left the trail and started across the road.

Fern's smelled like coffee and burgers inside. Not a bad smell at all. There was a counter at the far end and a bunch of shiny stools with red vinyl seats. There were booths down the two long walls and tables in the middle of the room. I slid into one of the booths on the window side and set Brianna beside me in her seat. The high, dark-wood backs reminded me of church pews. I could watch the road, and the bathrooms
were just behind me in case we had to get out of sight fast.

There was a woman behind the counter. She came around it and walked over to me. She was wearing jeans and a green apron. “Hi,” she said. “What can I get you?” Brianna was awake and making fussy noises. “Hi, cutie-pie,” the waitress said to her.

“Um, could I have a cheeseburger with fries and a large milk?” I said.

“Sure.” She didn't write my order down, but then it wasn't like there was a lot to remember. She smiled at Brianna. “I can warm up a bottle if you'd like,” she said.

“It's okay,” I said. “I have stuff for her.”

The waitress gave me the smile this time. “I thought you probably did,” she said. “If you want to give me a bottle, I can stick it in some hot water for you to warm it up. It's a lot easier than holding it under the tap in the bathroom.” She jerked her head in the direction of the washrooms. “Water doesn't get that hot in there anyway.”

I couldn't remember anything from that book I got at the library about warming up bottles. But then I hadn't really read the whole thing. There were about three hundred pages, and I hadn't had a lot of time.

“She's not that crazy about the formula,” I said. “I don't know if she'll like it if it's hot.”

The waitress gave me a funny look. She looked from me to Brianna and back again. “Not hot,” she said. “Just warm. Babies, little ones anyway, like their bottles warmed up a bit.” She frowned. “She is yours, isn't she?”

I put one hand on the car seat. “I'm her mother,” I said, “but someone else has been looking after her for me. Just for a while.”

I found a bottle of formula in my bag and held it out. “Maybe you could warm it up. Please. If it's not too much trouble.”

She smiled again and took the bottle. “Sure, no problem.”

I leaned over and looked out the window. A car went by, and a minivan, but I didn't see any sign of Justin's truck or the police. I slumped against the back of the booth. How could Justin do this? I thought we were in love. We were in love. We'd made Brianna.

There was a sour taste all of a sudden at the back of my throat, and my eyes felt prickly, like I might cry. I closed them for a second. I couldn't think about Justin. As soon as I had something to eat I was going to have to figure out how to get me and Brianna to Montreal.

And then it hit me. I couldn't take Brianna to Montreal. Justin would've told them that was where I was going. They'd probably have police waiting at the bus station in Montreal. I pressed my hand over my mouth. Okay, okay, so I'd go in the other direction. I could go to Halifax. Then in a few days or maybe a week, when they weren't looking for me there anymore, I'd go to Montreal.

I looked over at Brianna. She was chewing her fist. Her hat had slid way down to her eyebrows. I reached over and pulled it off. Her dark hair was matted against her head. I tried to fluff it up a bit, but it was all sweaty and stuck down. “Even on a bad hair day, you're beautiful,” I told her.

There was more green gunk on her nose. I had to dig all the way to the bottom of my backpack to find a clean Kleenex. I wiped her nose and she made a crabby face at me and then sneezed.

“Bless you,” the waitress said. She handed me the bottle. “It should be okay,” she said. “I checked it.” She shrugged. “I have two of my own.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Brianna gave the bottle a suspicious look. She pressed her lips together like she had before. Then she yawned and I popped the nipple in her mouth. She sucked on it, and this time she didn't spit it out. I'd have to remember to warm up the bottle from now on.

“You want onions on your cheeseburger?” the waitress called from behind the counter.

“Please,” I said.

“And gravy on the fries?”

My mouth was starting to water. “Yes, please. Lots.”

Brianna sucked hungrily at her bottle. About a quarter of it was already gone when the waitress brought my food. I was starving. I took both of the baby's hands and put them around the bottle so she could hold it and my own hands would be free to eat. But when I let go, the bottle fell into the car seat. Brianna let out a yowl.

I stuck the bottle back in her mouth, held on to it with one hand and tried to use my fork with the other, but it was the wrong hand and I couldn't even spear one French fry. I set the fork down and tried to put Brianna's hands around the bottle again, but she didn't seem to get what I wanted her to do.

The waitress was two tables over, putting napkins in a dispenser. “I think she's a bit
too young yet to hold on to a bottle,” she said. “Would you like me to feed her?” She gestured to the empty room. “I don't mind. It's not exactly busy tonight.”

My stomach growled again. “Um, okay. Thanks,” I said. I pulled the car seat over a little.

The waitress came and sat down. She took the bottle from me. “I'm Leslie, by the way,” she said.

What name had I given those girls? Oh yeah. “I'm Eden,” I said. “And this is Brianna.”

There was real cheese on the burger, not the kind that came all wrapped up in plastic. And the fries were homemade. For a couple of minutes I ate without talking. A bit of milk dribbled down the side of Brianna's chin. Leslie wiped it up with a paper napkin.

“How old is Brianna?” she asked.

“Five months,” I said.

Leslie studied the baby's face, then looked at me. My heart started to race. Had she figured something out?

“She has your eyes,” she said at last.

It was all right. I felt my legs go wobbly. It was a good thing I wasn't standing up. I popped another French fry in my mouth. They were so good. “How old are your kids?” I asked.

“Kyra is eight and Sam, my little guy, is six.” She shook her head. “It feels like it was just yesterday that they were this small.” She ran a finger over Brianna's hand. “Look at those fingers. She'll be playing piano someday.”

“My mom played,” I said.

“What about you?” Leslie asked.

I laughed. “No. I can't play anything and I can't sing. But I can draw. My art teacher says I'm really creative. I'm going to be a fashion designer.” I almost said, “in Montreal,” but then I caught myself.

“So, you make your own clothes?”

I shook my head. “No. I can't sew or anything like that. But I'm really good at putting a look together—like a shirt and pants with the right shoes and stuff. I dress my friends all the time and go
shopping and help them figure out what to buy.”

“Maybe you should work in a clothing store,” Leslie said. “Whenever I go shopping I can never find anyone to help me decide what goes together.”

“You can make a lot more money as a fashion designer,” I said.

Leslie took a Kleenex out of her apron pocket and wiped Brianna's nose. That reminded me that I needed to get some stuff, like more Kleenex, before we got on a bus. “When I was your age I wanted to be a singer,” Leslie said.

I looked at her. Her blond hair was done back in a long braid, and she didn't have any wrinkles. “You still could be,” I said. “You're not that old.”

Leslie laughed. “Thanks, but that kind of life—up all night and being on the road—doesn't work when you have two kids and no husband.”

“But there's day care.”

“Good day care costs money. And it's pretty hard to find one that's open
till two in the morning when the clubs close.”

“I never thought of that,” I said, taking the last bite of my burger. “But it doesn't seem fair that you have to work here when you really want to be a singer.”

“This is not a bad job,” Leslie said. “I get to cook, which I like. And the woman who owns the place, she's really good about letting me change shifts if one of my kids gets sick or something.” Brianna finished the bottle and Leslie set it on the table. “As long as my kids are okay, I'm happy, you know?”

I nodded. I did know. Brianna being happy was why I'd done this. I just wished I could have made Justin understand that.

I wiped my hands on a napkin and took Brianna out of the car seat. She wiggled and fussed as I lifted her onto my shoulder to burp her. “Please burp,” I said to her, gently patting her back. She sneezed on my neck instead.

“Bless you,” Leslie said.

Brianna seemed warm in my arms and I realized she needed a clean diaper. She was kicking my ribs with her foot.

“Have you ever tried laying her across your lap to burp her?” Leslie asked.

“Umm, what do you mean?” I said.

“Can I take her?”

I hesitated for a second, then handed Brianna over.

Leslie held her up for a second. “Hello there, cutie-bug,” she said. “Where are all your burps?” She laid Brianna face down across her lap with the baby's head in the crook of her arm and her hand at Brianna's waist. Then she rubbed slow circles in the middle of Brianna's back. “Like this,” Leslie said. “Don't press too hard.” And then Brianna burped, a loud one, just like Justin.