BABY'S BREATH REVISED 02 01 06

Sheila Gilberd lived in a small village south of Liestral in Alsace Lorraine. It was 1939 and where she lived was not safe anymore. She just left Doctor Dahmer's office having herself and her eight month old unborn baby examined. When she left his office she started for home, thankful they were both in good health.

While she was at the doctor, gangs of thugs ran though the streets of her neighborhood and village business district shouting, 'Kill the Jews!" Jews are subhuman!" As they ran, they clubbed Jews with baseball bats, steel rods, broom handles, ax handles, and anything they could get their hands on without paying for it. They broke into shops, professional offices, anything that had a Jewish name on it, and many in their fervor any shop or house they wanted to loot. They threw lit bottles filled with petrol, mixed with kerosene through the windows of stores, houses, anything they had a mind to. As the mob gathered momentum an exodus of people ran from their homes and businesses.

Sheila had gone a short distance when she was grabbed from behind. Her heart raced,
Pumping adrenalin into her system. She screamed, but a workingman's glove on her mouth smothered all sound. When she realized she was dragged into an alley she twisted and turned trying to ease his grip. "Jew Bitch. I am going to show you what a German fucking you, is like." Sheila was terrified her baby was going to be hurt.

She knew that voice. It was Hans, a bully, and the father of six sons, all brutal as he was. She remembered a month ago when he pushed her into the alcove of the vacant shoe repair store owned by the Kohan's, her good friends. They fled after it was broken into so many times. Hans said at that time, "Your days are numbered. You and your people will be wiped from the face of the earth." He reached into her coat pocket, took her coins and two francs, spit in her face, and left with a vicious grin.

"Hans, do not do this. Please let me go."

"You remember me, huh. I have been waiting for you. I am glad you didn't leave with the Kohans." He forced her down in the alley, ripped her heavy wool coat off as buttons popped and cracked until he dropped it. He breathed heavy gulps of air as he pulled her gray cotton dress up, ripped her undergarments down around her ankles, and kicked them off with one boot. He spread her legs slipped a glove less hand on her crotch, found an opening, and guided his engorged cock to it. He rammed it in, ripping her flesh as he did.

Excruciating pain shot out from his battering pelvic bone against hers. Concerned about the baby, Sheila closed her eyes and prayed a prayer she knew: "Oh Lord God Help me to rise above this thing inside me. Give me insight in this time of pain and shame from the depth of suffering that may come a deep sympathy for all who are treated as I am now and Lord protect my baby, that he may be born to love and worship you." Her body slowly relaxed.

Hans whispered , "Oh, I see you like German cock." He plunged deeper as his hips pounded against her so hard she almost fainted. His thrusts came faster and faster until he ejaculated in hot burning bursts that revolted her. Her stomach heaved. Yellow and green puke spewed out of her mouth into his face as the remains dribbled out the corners of her mouth.

He raged, jumped up screamed, face twisted in hate and disgust. "You filthy, rotten Jew Bitch!" He kicked her face, her chest, and her belly, picked her coat up and wiped his face with the lining. He pulled her up, threw her face down, and forced his swollen member into her anal cavity, ripping the entry and walls as it plunged inside. He took his time, punishing her with each thrust as she lay there in shame, rage, and revulsion. He ejaculated twenty minutes later, gave her final kick in her side, cracking ribs and ran off. Sheila went into shock.

Twenty minutes later, coming out of it, confused, wracked with pain, her mouth tasted the thrown up breakfast. She heaved again bringing up bile. She felt the baby kick and felt it was not damaged. She wanted to go home to her husband and tried to think how she would tell him she was raped. He was a proud man and would want revenge. She thought about Hans and his tribe and her husband being maimed and killed. No, she would tell him she fell down the stairs of the doctors office. To lie is no sin to protect one who loves you. She managed to stand, trembling and moaning, found her clothes at her feet, dressed and staggered out of the alley and walked a short distance when she saw her next door neighbor running toward her.

"Sarah, please help me. I must get home." As Sarah drew near, Sheila saw her gray eyes were bloodshot, black streaks ran down her cheeks. Her clothes were disheveled, her hair a straggled mess. "Sheila, we cannot go home. Your husband Jacob was clubbed to death. My brothers, sisters, mother and father, all burned alive in our house. The smell of burning flesh and petrol filled the air. I escaped because I was taking clothes off the clothesline when I heard loud chants of, 'Kill the Jews!' I looked up and suddenly the front of houses on our block in flames reaching up past the rooftops. I started to run, and then a gang of thugs came around the side of our house, went to the back and tossed lit petrol bottles through the windows and against the back door. God has forsaken us again, Sheila. We must leave Germany and get to the border of France which is only three miles."

They walked as fast as they could for awhile, dodging youths doing what Sarah described. Terrified, they walked a short distance more in and out of back-yards, alleys, hiding behind shrubs and trees. As they rested behind a growth of heavy evergreens Sarah said, "I am going on alone. We have a better chance if we separate." Without waiting for an answer she picked up speed, turned a corner and was gone. Sheila sobbed in fear and despair at being alone and moved as fast as she was able because labor cramps started. When they got so bad she could barely walk she made her way into an alley and sat down, and held her swollen belly. Six hours later, sweat pored off her strained body, her mouth dry, her womb on fire, she pushed the baby out and with a final effort pushed the afterbirth out after it and rested for five minutes .

The baby hung between her legs. Sheila bent, groped and found the umbilical cord, and pulled it with one hand, and struggled to grab her baby. Out of breath, she stopped, Praying it was alive, got up on her knees and picked him up by his legs, and slapped his butt until he cried and whimpered. She held his belly to her mouth and chewed the umbilical cord until it was free. She picked up her coat, slipped him into it and cooed until he was quiet. She wiped the fluid and blood off of herself as best she could in the darkness of the alley.

When darkness fell she knew she could not make it out of Germany. She also knew a Jew would not survive here, and a Jewish infant would certainly not. Sheila prayed for her son to be strong and to her God to forgive her for what she was going to do.

Weak and Feeling empty inside, she struggled with her religious beliefs. Finding the only answer, she made her way to a Protestant church, wrapped him in her coat and set the bundle by the front door. She banged the door knocker eight times, slipped behind a clump of bushes on the side of the church and watched the entrance. An elderly woman opened the door, came out, looked down, opened the bundle and cried, "Oh my God, a newborn baby is abandoned." She picked the bundle up, looked around, and went inside, saying, "God help and bless the poor woman who left you on Christmas."

Sheila cried silently, shaking with loss, pain and cold. She stayed there for ten minutes, got up, and walked back to the alley where she gave birth, found the corner of a chimney, slipped down by it, and closed her eyes. Two days later they found her frozen body and the star. She was thrown into a mass grave of Jews killed in the riot.
she ripped from her coat. She was tossed into a mass grave with all the other Jews killed
in the last riot.

Chapter 2

Pastor Lipvak called a doctor, had the child examined and then found some baby clothes left over from a rummage sale, wrapped the baby and laid him in a small wooden box. Nearby nursemaids were contacted, and one suitable was selected to feed the baby. Pastor Lipvak named him Esau, after himself. Having no children because his wife was sterile, which he knew, because when he was a young man he got a girl pregnant.

He arranged for a birth certificate, and Sara's child was legally a German citizen. The pastor had many friends, some influential members of the Nazi party. It was a small problem to get illegal documents made legal..

The pastor and his adopted son never got along. Esau Jr. was not liked because he was gentle, smart, and considerate as a child, and could never bring himself to hurt anyone, unlike his neighborhood friends and schoolmates. He would go to a park and read a book while his schoolmates would play soccer or box bare knuckles in the street. They would rove into the Jewish neighborhoods, break windows, and steal whatever was not locked up, or just mug unwary men and women. He did not resemble his parents or schoolmates. He had a large long nose, a high forehead, and full lips, more like the Jews. He gravitated to the Jewish neighborhoods who were gentler and kind. On Wednesdays and Thursdays he would leave school, meet Jewish friends, and bring them food in exchange for teaching him Hebrew, which was taught in secret places, moved to different locations every week. He did not get along with schoolmates, or for that matter, his parents, who hated Jews and wanted them to leave Germany, or be driven out. His schoolmates at the academy despised him, and were jealous of his proficiency in learning German, Russian, French and English languages, able to read, write and speak it, but they did not know he also was versed as well in Hebrew.

Today, He had been brought home by the Headmaster, because he had taken a book written by Adolph Hitler off of his desk yesterday. His parents thought anything written by Adolph Hitler was a catechism to be studied. When the headmaster told pastor Lipvak what Esau had done, the pastor replied, "The boy is a good boy but easily led. He will return the book this evening. It is probably because My wife and I cannot say enough good things about Adolph Hitler, and the boy probably wanted to study it. I promise you it will not be damaged, or written on."

After the headmaster left with a package of sausage and a bottle of schnapps, Esau's adoptive father walked over to Esau and battered his face. . "Thief! Jew lover! We raised you to be a good German. You will be a good German! I lied for you to not allow shame fall upon us." As blood rolled down his face from a split lip that was already swelling, Esau hung his head to hide his shame for his parents. His mother grabbed his face and pleaded. "You will get us sent to a camp if you keep behaving like a defender of those people. They took our neighbors' jobs and money! Hitler is right. They must be thrown out of Germany. If you do not believe that, you must leave the house after graduation. Please Esau. You are disgracing us and all of our friends with the way you behave. Be a good boy. Give the book back to the headmaster and apologize. He will not punish you if you tell him you took it because you admire Adolph Hitler so much you had to read the book."

Esau looked at his father and mother with shame. He tried to hide it but it was there under his bloody smile. His mother took it for shame of himself and hugged him, dabbing his lip with her apron. "Go now."

"Yes, Mama. I am sorry Papa. It is just that what is going on now is all so confusing. I will go, bring it back and plead for forgiveness." He went to his room, put his heavy coat on, took the little money he had saved, put the book under his arm, went back to the kitchen and said, "I will not be home for supper. We have a performance at the academy and I will be staying over Hans house. A group of us formed a study group. I must hurry to get this back."

His mother bid him good-bye until next afternoon, pushed an apple and some coins into his pocket, patted his head and said, "You are a good boy Esau, but you are easily led. I'm glad you are staying with Hans."

Esau walked into the business district away from the academy, found an alley, and took the copy of Mien Kamp out of his coat. He ripped the pages out one by one in an alley, crumbled them and threw them with the rest of the litter. When done, he took the cover, found a puddle, and dropped it in. He walked in long strides to the main road going toward the border of France and started to beg rides. He walked and rode with strangers on the way. On the last part of the trip, A big blackBOM35054 Civilian Version 1937 German Opel Olympia Car stopped in front of him. He ran to the open window, heard Yiddish and French carefully watching him for a reaction. He introduced himself in French, as a student. The woman beside him nursed a baby and introduced herself as Sharon. Nothing more was said. He stared out the window, or drooped his head as if to nap. . He could tell by the conversations of this good family, they feared the checkpoint. If they were turned back, they would be forced to leave the car and walk across. As they grew tense, speaking less, he sensed the border was close. Their voices, low, they spoke of an agency on Rue Doctora Zola in Le Pued that smuggled Jews into Switzerland. The man driving spoke of alternate available routes to arrive there with the least possibility of discovery. They stopped talking, and he presumed they were getting close to the border. He asked the driver to stop at a cross road where the sides of the roads were lined with hedgerows bordering forests of trees.

He got out, handed Sharon the apple, thanked them, and waited until they drove out of sight before spreading the hedges at a thin point, being careful to hide his entry into the forest. He walked a short way into the woods able to see the break in the trees where the road ran, he made his way parallel to it, keeping it to his left. Two hours later, exhausted, he stopped, crawled under a clump of bushes, and went to sleep. He was wakened by German voices and barking dogs. He lay still, hardly breathing. He heard screams and a series of gun shots. A half hour later he heard a car and a truck drive away. German voices laughed loudly, gradually faded. He carefully went back to the road and determined they were on the road headed toward the border between Germany and France. The moon was low in the sky, and the sun was just coming up over the horizon. As he walked toward the border, he saw a large low lying object. He ducked into the woods and waited. Silence. He made his way toward it. It appeared to be a pile of rags, or someone waiting in ambush.

He approached it from the woods, careful of each step he took until he was in reach. It was overcoats, linings ripped out and pockets torn. He poked with a stick. It gave under his poke. He reached over and grabbed a hand full and pulled. Sharon laid there, naked, a red hole in her forehead above her nose. The men were coatless, shot in the back of the head by the spine. He looked up and down the road, waited few minutes, and then searched their pockets. He found nothing, but when he pulled their socks off, he found wads of French franc's and four French passports taped to their soles. One was Sharon Fienstein. He stuffed the passports into his socks and the money in his briefs. He remembered the woman had a baby. He looked thoroughly for it, but could not find it. He walked back and forth on the road on both sides, went back to the rag pile and turned the bodies over one at a time. He still could not find it. He covered the corpses up, turned to go, and heard a vehicle coming from the border. He slipped under the pile and pulled as many corpses as he could over him. The vehicle stopped. A voice speaking German said, "There must be money and Jewels. No Jew was ever caught empty handed. The others are fools, giving the bodies a cursory search. What we find, we keep." A guttural agreement replied, "Ach."

Esau heard rustling, ripping, cussing, and then, "here, give me a hand, I want to see what this bastard swallowed."

Esau eased out from his hiding place, saw the car that brought him this far and two uniformed Germans helmets and rifles laying on the car close to where Esau watched. One butchered the corpse and the other held it, their backs to him. He eased himself over to the rifles, picked one up, examined it, slipped the safety off, and aimed it and shot four times. Their screams stopped as they fell. He listened to see if anyone heard the shots. In the silence he heard a baby cry. He followed it, and found the baby in the woods ten feet in, halfway buried in a mound of leaves. It must have been found and thrown here, or one of the passengers managed to get it here as the Germans approached. He picked it off, brushed leaves and twigs off it, and carried it back to the road. He wept at its pale bruised face. It whimpered. He picked it up and held its mouth to his, exhaled into the baby, then inhaled its sweet breath. It gave him a sense of euphoria. He exhaled and inhaled again, now worried about being responsible for a fragile child in need of more than what he could give. He started to put it down and felt the attachment he felt at the taste its breath. He picked it up again brought it to the pile,BOM35054 Civilian Version 1937 German Opel Olympia Car
picked a piece of a wool sweater out, wrapped the baby and placed her on the seat of the car. He went over to the dead Germans, pulled them off the corpse, and saw a bag with a draw string on the bloody ground. He picked it up, pulled the string and looked inside. It was full of jewels. He closed it, wiped it clean with German clothes he stripped them of. When searching their pockets he found two cigarette lighters and twenty German marks. It took him awhile to haul the Germans and put them under the pile of corpses. After he though it was poetic justice for them rot under Jewish corpses, perhaps blending with them.

He went to the car, took the baby, unbuttoned his coat, and placed it inside, so her face lay just under his scarf. He got in the car, dove it back two miles back from the border, drove in a clearing into clumps of heavy brush until it could go no further. He left it running, got out, and made his way back to the road away from the border then into the woods, crossed the road on the other side walked a half mile, then crossed again into woods 50 yards past the bodies, back into the woods deeper about two miles and slowly made his way toward the border. He stopped on the outskirts of a clearing and rested at dawn. He made a decision not to sleep. The baby was warm against his body. He had nothing to feed it with. He wondered if it would die before he found food. He did not even know exactly where he was, France or Germany.

The sun was high. He had fallen asleep. He was angry with himself. He heard French voices from the other side of the clearing. A rabbit hopped out, zigzagged across the field, and froze. A shot rang out. The rabbit took off again running toward Esau. Another shot. The rabbit jumped in the air and fell. Two men, one with a rifle walked over to it, and one talked about how well Pierre shot his rifle. Pierre laughed saying it was luck. "Merci, poor rabbit. A good stew he will make."

Esau decided to take a chance, because the man spoke English. "Excuse me." Esau said. half revealed behind a tree. "Am I in France?"

Pierre raised the gun. "Identify yourself, Englese."

Esau stepped out, hands raised. "I am lost. I've been wandering around for two days."

"You are lucky you are not in Germany. They are as close as your voice can carry. You are in France today. Tomorrow, who knows?" He lowered his rifle as he talked, and Esau made his way out of the forest into the clearing. He held his hand out to Pierre, "Bon' Jour, Pierre."

Pierre raised his bushy eyebrows and asked, "You speak our language?" he asked in French.

"Yes," said Esau, "I speak five languages. I was a student in Germany. I cannot live there. They are crazy. They want to kill everyone who is not German, so I ran away.

"How old are you," Pierre asked.

"Seventeen." He lied, then quickly said, "I want to go to Switzerland and then to America. My name is Esau." He held his hand out to Pierre's hunting partner who smiled a toothless grin. They both pumped his hands "Louis is my older brother," Pierre said. "My father was killed in the last war. His father died in bed."

Esau told them about the people he found on the road. He held out a Franc. "I will pay for food and directions." He pulled his scarf away from the baby and said, "I found her under one of the men."

"Merci! poor infant'! Keep your money for now. Come. You shall have food and a bed and my wife will have the child fed. When you eat and rest we will talk."

They walked two miles across another field and up a dirt road to a small farm. They had three goats and two cows for cheese and milk, a chicken coop full of chickens and a fenced area between the coop and a barnyard that ran up a hill to a barn that was built into the hill. There were gardens, flowers, vegetables, herbs, spices, a vineyard and a press in the barn for the grapes. After the tour, Esau fell in love with the farm. They went into the farmhouse. Pierre told his wife about the infant. She was a slim, long curly black haired woman with a pale complexion, black eyes, no makeup, and a smile that came from full lips. She was wearing a housecoat. She took the baby from Esau, cooed, and called. "Giselle, come here and feed this starving baby."

"Whose baby now? I feed yours because you dried up, and now another?"

"Come, and be sure you are dressed. We have company."

A stout woman, also black curly headed in a pink slip walked into the kitchen, a baby at her breast, smelling of mother's milk. "I will never get my figure back with all I have to eat to feed this one and now another? I'll be large as a house before the year is out."
Everyone laughed, even her. She took the baby from her breast, handed it to Pierre's wife, and said, "take her, Francine, she had enough, and drained my breast, the little glutton."

She slipped the strap over her breast, slipped the other one down revealing a milk swollen breast, said, "Here little one." She squeezed her nipple until a drop formed and pressed the baby's mouth to it. "Easy, easy, little one," she said pulling it back, then easing its mouth back onto her nipple. "That's better, two minutes, we burp you, and then you get all you want."

The kitchen bustled around Giselle. Chairs came from somewhere, children formed out of nowhere. Leaves were added to the table to make more room. A bowl of fruit appeared dominated by green and purple grapes. A hunk of Gorgonzola cheese, three loaves of long fresh bread, a jug of red wine, a pitcher of water, knives forks and spoons, a slab of butter and a bowl of jelly. The food continued, roast chickens, hard-boiled eggs, roasted potatoes, rabbit stew, long green beans, more bread wine and cheese, a pitcher of water and wine for the children. Burps and farts rang out, laughter and jeers, groans and slapping stomachs until one by one the table was empty except Giselle, Francine, Pierre and Esau. Pierre got up and poured cognac into glasses and black coffee was brought from a boiling pot by Francine. Esau followed as they emptied the cognac into the coffee and sipped. They talked then. Esau told them about the book, headmaster, the journey, and everything else.

Weeks went by. Esau learned how to milk the goats, cows, collect eggs in a basket, and when walking with Pierre in the woods found a nest of baby rabbits they brought back to the barn, then built a hutch and put the nest with the rabbits in it. They fed them goat's milk and mush until they were grown big enough to eat vegetables. Esau was having mixed feelings, whether to stay here or continue on his journey to America. A month later the border was lined with cars, truck, and people walking, some coming to the farm begging for food. None were refused. They were fed, then loaded up with food and sent on their way with directions.

One afternoon, as the family sat down to dinner, Esau got up and said, "Everyone here has been wonderful, and I enjoyed the good company as I worked as a half ass farmer..." Laughter broke out. "Well, you know by that I am saying I am leaving. I would like to leave tomorrow."

Giselle asked, "Are you taking the baby?"

Esau replied, "If you and the family agree, I would prefer to leave her here with you. I am not a family, and cannot take care of her half as well as she is cared for here. I have a passport of her mother, so perhaps you can tell her at some point in her life who her mother was. But that is up to you if you agree to keep her as your own"
They had a council, and everyone wanted to keep the baby. Giselle and Francine loved her. Pierre doted on her, slipping her sweets, and grape juice, even wine and water.

A few days later, before Esau left, he gave half the franks he had, to Pierre, a diamond necklace to Giselle, A string of pearls and matching earrings for Francine. He gave a cigarette lighter to Pierre, and the other one to Louis, then said to Pierre, "I will send you money every month for her. You can use it for food and clothing, or save it for her education. I leave all decisions up to you." There were tears, hugs, and many pleadings for him to stay, but he was determined to get to America.
Chapter 3

Ten days after he left, he was in Le Pued, three days after, having said good-bye to his traveling companions he walked alone on the rue Doctuer Zola. He spent two days walking up and down the street, watching to see if anyone else was watching the entrance. Finally, satisfied it was safe, he walked in. garbage. There was garbage and papers thrown around. A desk was overturned. Food and cartons were strewn all over the floor, furniture was broken. Esau left quickly and walked past a woman with red hair, who was walking up. Out in the street, he walked to a tobacconist and bought cigarettes, lit one and choked. His eyes watered. He sucked the harsh smoke lightly into his lungs. This time he didn't choke. He got dizzy, light-headed. He puffed gently, slowly. A rush of adrenaline made him feel energetic. He sat on a bench at a bus stop not knowing what to do. The red headed woman walked out of the door across the street, and walked over to the bus stop. She glanced at him in a nondescript manner. Her gait slowed, and her hips swung. Long legs glided as if she was not touching the ground. A bus came. She got on. Esau got on after her and sat beside her. She said one word in French, "Agency".

"Silence." He said in English. Her deep blue eyes were questioning.

"It is gone."

" Did you know them?

"No. Only of them. I met some people who knew of them. They were shot in Germany. Just before the border to France. They were good people."

"Who are you?" She asked as if he were a mystery man.

"Esau Lipvak, a student who wants to go to Switzerland and then to America."

"Are you Swiss?"

"No, I'm Jewish." The lie was not a lie to Esau, disliking the brutality of Germans and befriending Jews as if he belonged to their race.

"I want to go to America too. I'm Beth Tabachinick, a Jew. If you don't mind, why don't we go together?" Then, as if he would solve it, she asked, "How will we go?"

"I'll find a way. We can't stay here. This sector will only be safe for short time. Where are you going? Where does this bus go?"

She told him where the bus would take them. They spent days looking for people who spoke Yiddish. They found people who worked with the underground, smugglers, and after extensive questioning, looking at their documentation which were six Jewish passports
legal and properly stamped, to trade. Esau and Beth were eventually sent to an underground contact. Esau gave him a quarter of the francs and three passports for the information, papers and a ride to the boat they were to take to Switzerland. When they arrived at the dock, Esau paid the captain for Both of them. It was a large fishing boat with a wide deck which had sixteen coffins lined up on the deck. There were passengers there ahead of them, so they were able to watch and listen to how he was going to smuggle them. The crew opened a coffin, placed a piece of canvas on top of the body, called a passenger and helped to get him, or her comfortable, then closed the lid. Esau walked over and inspected a coffin. It had holes drilled into it which enabled the person to breathe, but were unnoticeable under a 3/4 inch wide strip of molding that matched the coffin on each side. "Ingenious." Esau said to Beth, explaining it to her. Before Esau and Beth were called, he spoke to the captain and asked where they were going to be delivered to.

"The only cemetery his cargo can be delivered to, in Bayeux, without being questioned, or inspected." They were the last to be incarcerated. Jostled, banged around, dropped and tipped over they arrived at the cemetery. Esau waited until there was silence, kicked the top of the cheap pine coffin cover off and climbed out. He looked around. There was no one in sight except for Beth who placed the lid on her coffin, picked up the sheet, folded it and held it. "Esau, take your sheet. We will need them."

They Walked out of the cemetery, through a residential district. When it turned into small stores, Esau and Beth went into a Delicatessen, bought yogurt, a loaf of rye bread, two bottles of beer and a chunk of mild cheddar cheese, found a park and sat on a bench and consumed it all. They found a secluded place in the park, stretched on folded sheet on the moss covered ground, laid down, put the other sheet over them, curled up and fell asleep. The next day, they stopped at the Delicatessen and bought sausages and scrambled eggs on a large loaf of bread and two small bottles of milk. The ate at the same park bench, retrieved their sheets and walked back to the harbor. They sought out the contact given to them, found the boat which was a cargo ship, and arranged passage
America. It did not cost as much as Esau thought, because cooks helpers were needed.
They both signed on as cook's helpers. They slept together on sacks of flower in a storage room with their clothes on, using empty burlap sacks as covers. The voyage took three months, dropping off and picking up Cargo at different ports on the way. Their days were
filled with walking along the deck, enjoying the brisk salty breezes, going to the stern, watching sharks fins churning the water when garbage was thrown over side. Other times, humpback whales blew clouds of water in the air, dove, came up out of the water, their huge brown speckled bodies came sometimes close enough to see barnacles on their rough grooved skin. Sometime they dove, came up out of the water and belly whopped,
splashing tons of water in the air. Esau and Beth ate good food, working in the kitchen, and both gained weight.

One day, on deck, Esau glanced at the cover of a book a fellow passenger was reading by Upton Sinclair and he thought the name Sinclair was very American sounding. He dropped his papers overboard, along with Esau Litvak and became William Sinclair, because he thought Upton would not be believable. When they arrived at Ellis Island, he was detained for three weeks for not having a visa, but finally was given one for William Sinclair because he spoke and wrote perfect English.

They started their new lives under the rumblings of an impending war. He was fourteen when they married, legally, because he lied at Ellis Island and said he was 18. They got a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with the money they pooled, and furnished it from thrift shops and the Salvation Army. Beth became pregnant on the ship coming over, but that did not stop her from working. She Got a job in a dress shop, and William got one in a grocery store. Both were paid a dollar an hour, Beth worked forty hours a week, William thirty. Among them both, they made $70.00 a week off the books.

Work or her pregnancy never stopped their lovemaking. Eight months later Beth gave birth to a baby boy, they named Alex. Beth worked part time after the baby was six months old, and then, after his first birthday, she went back to full time. Adriana, the girl downstairs, babysat for 25 cents an hour.

William liked his job, working for Jacob Cohen in the corner grocery store two blocks away from their apartment. He starter bagging and weighing fruit and vegetables and writing the weight on the bag. He was instructed to write the weight an ounce more if the needle was closer to the mark, and if it was closer to the other mark, do the same thing. William did not think this was disreputable, because the old man always put something extra in the customers bag. When it was slow, he would have to go downstairs into the basement, and sort soda and beer bottles into their assorted cases, emptying the ones that still had liquid in hem, into a drain in the floor. Jacob's son who was there one day, after two months working, when William walked in, picked up his apron to tie it on and go to work. He was informed: "Jacob is very sick, and was taken to the hospital last night. He never told us he was coughing up blood, and I never wanted him to work here after my mother Hannah died . However, he was stubborn, and said his customers were his friends. We went over the books early this morning. He has not made any profits in the last two years. I'm not sorry to close this store and sell the building. Because he cared for you, and insisted that I give you your last paycheck in full, and an additional two weeks pay." He handled William an envelope, and said. "Leave the apron on the hook". He turned and walked back into the office.

A week later, William had not been able to find any work. He enlisted into the Army. Beth was upset, but he said it was the only way to make a living. She cursed him. "You inconsiderate bastard, you are leaving me, and going away to fight in a war, and maybe never coming back!"

"Beth. It is the best choice I have. I have no skills other than languages. The army will give them to me. You will have a steady monthly income."

She cried and pounded shoulder, chest and face, screaming "It is not fair," over and over, until William grabbed her arms, pulled her to him and held her, kissing her tears until she calmed down, and whispered, "I love you so much. However, there is no other way out for us. I will be careful, Beth, I will be very careful." Two days later, they made love on the couch.

Four years later, William walked in the bungalow Beth had moved into with Alex, now almost five years, and Florence Ann, who was conceived on the night he left aged three years and three months, whom nick named Flo Ann. William had seven thousand dollars, from savings, and mustering out pay. He bought a used car for $200.00. There was no work to be had there that would pay anything worthwhile. One day, he read in a newspaper, there were dairy farms for sale in upstate New York. They discussed it. Beth was excited. They loaded the car, left the furniture, bought a map of New York state from a gas station on Route 9 and headed for Delaware county that had the best deals. Driving and stopping for food and bathrooms, it took sixteen hours to arrive at the outskirts of Walton, at eight O'clock, on a Wednesday evening.

They found a hotel with a barbershop under it and checked in. The next morning, A local real estate broker was found and they started looking. The third property they were shown, was off Route 65, on Fish Hollow road, three miles from Hancock, and five miles from Walton. They crossed a bridge, drove down a rutted dirt road onto a patch of rounded pebbles. They faced a two story saltbox colonial house, with a wrap around porch. Up the hill facing the house was a red barn with an attached silo. The barn was built into the hill with another dirt road that started 20 feet from the patch of pebbles, and circled out of sight, behind the barn.

The house was completely furnished. It had running water and electricity. Upstairs had 2 bed rooms, a large bathroom, and up another flight of stairs was a walk around attic with a knotty pine tongue and groove flooring. Downstairs, had a formal dining room, a large eat in kitchen, another two bedrooms in kitchen, a small bathroom with a commode and a sink, a cupboard and a mud room.

Outside, there was a tool shed fifty feet from the barn. There were 30 cows in stalls in the barn, and two large workhorses. Moos, neighs, snorts and grunts filled the barn. The realtor said the cows had been milked and all the livestock fed. The farmer next door named Samuel Kellogg, took care of it. There was a concrete cooler built into the barn on four feet deep by five feet wide and eight feet long with a pipe running into it at one end, from a spring and out of the other end into a wooden trough 50 feet long and two feet wide in the barn yard that livestock drank out of, extending out into the corral, along the post and rail fence.

After being showed the house and barn, the realtor took them around its back and opened a large ten foot high, by eight foot long, set of doors, with a hasp and unlocked padlock on them. Inside there were stacks of hay on both sides, with wooden racks holding the hay, piled up eight feet high. A wood ladder was fastened to the wall at the front of the barn, going up to the top, and down to a chute, that had a rope attached. She explained that when hay was to be pitch forked down to feed the livestock, the chute was opened and tied to the large peg that stuck out from the side of a beam eight by eight inches that ran up to a notched beam on the ceiling. "This barn does not have one nail in it. The beams are notched an augured. Pegs were pounded in to hold it up, on all sides. The wood, I was told is Cyprus, that many call ironwood. You cannot drive a nail into it, no matter what you use or what size nail you use." Back at the car, the realtor explained, "there is an assumable mortgage on this property. With 20% down, there is no employment or credit check. It is a V. A. mortgage for $6, 500.00. The former owners signed the deed over to the bank and left. You need one thousand, and 50 dollars, to assume the mortgage, which is a 4% fixed rate mortgage with 15 years left on it. You will need three hundred dollars in title fees and closing costs. I have other buyers, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair. Two have looked at it, and three have appointments."

"We'll take it. Where do we sign? The realtor laughed, and said, "when we get back to my office, I will write up a contract, which you and your wife will sign. We take checks, or money orders. I will call the title company, and within three or four days you can have the keys.

The first year they lived on the farm, Beth had another boy she named, Sonny.


*******************

Four years later, at the end of August, 1950. The field to the left of the farmhouse was pregnant with timothy, rye, wheat and tall green grass that were starting to lie down. A trade deal was made with two men from Hancock, named Harry and Pete, to split the harvest. They would cut and bale the field into hay, and truck half to the Sinclair's barn and half to their barn. The field was half mowed that morning and the baler was hooked up to the truck and already baling.

Alex cooked, baked, cleaned, and not only watched Sonny, but took care of him. He changed, him, bathed him, groomed him, taught him the alphabet, how to count and played games with him and since everyone worked from sun up to sun down Alex did his chores before and after school, which was a one room school house on Fish Hollow road. He was his bedroom trying to get Sonny to take a nap. He could hear his five-year-old sister Flo Ann, out on the porch, playing with her dolls. She was supposed to be in here too, taking a nap, but she refused, saying she was big enough to be by herself. Alex knew if he tried to force her, she would scream at the top of her lungs, kick and squirm until mother or father came and gave Alex a slap or a reprimand.

Noises came from the field nearby; the roar of the truck's engine and the strange clack click clack of the baler. Between the rhythmic drone of the engine and the steady sound of the baler, Alex heard the muffled voices of his father and Pete, whose baler and truck were hired and his mother Beth. It was hot in the room, but cooler than the 90 degrees outside. Alex fixed everyone in his mind, determining where each one was. Harry, Pete's partner was calling from inside the truck. His mother and father were at the far end raking hay.

Sonny rubbed his eyes with his fists, "Alex, tell me a story."

"How about the Pied Piper?"

"No. I don't like that story. He took all the children away."

"OK, how about Tarzan and Cheetah?"

"Yes." Sonny said brightly. "Tell me the part where he rides
the elephant."

"Alex turned toward Sonny and started, "Once upon a time in the deep, dark jungle of Africa..."

Alex brushed Sonny's blond hair away from his eyes thinking he'd have to cut his bangs later. He kissed him on his forehead and whispered, "Sonny, are you sleeping?" Sonny didn't answer. Alex put his hand under Sonny's woven belt he had made for Sonny from balls of wool from his mother's sewing basket. It was an authentic Navajo design he copied from a library book. He couldn't do the animals in the middle, but the borders were beautiful with their vivid green, yellow white, black and red designs.

"It's a Navajo chief's belt, Sonny." He said when he gave it to him. Sonny never took it off, even when in the bathtub.

Alex yawned, clutched the belt and then put his other arm over Sonny knowing he would be yelled at if he fell asleep and Sonny got away from him. His eyes roved over the room--the locked door , the latch sideways, and the skeleton key in his pocket, the closed window. Sonny couldn't open it, and even if he managed to, he wasn't strong enough to raise it enough to climb out.

An hour later, Alex woke from drenched sleep. His focus drilled on his brother's presence missing from his side. He hopped from the bed, "Please, please, please?" He unlocked the bedroom door and fled barefoot across pine floors through the kitchen to the back door. No Sonny. He flew over the porch around the house and turned to the sound of farm machinery in the hay field. He screamed. "Stop! Stop!" His shouts died in the roar of the engine. Alex ran toward the truck. Flo Ann lifted Sonny up to the running board, giving him a boost. Sonny reached up and pulled the door handle down. His hand slipped from the rounded chrome handle. Alex ran as fast as his eight-year-old legs could carry him, jumping over piles of hay. Flo Ann lost her grip on Sonny and fell back from Sonny's falling body. Sonny banged off the running board onto the rear wheel well and slid down between it and the running board. The truck's rear wheel rolled over his head.

Alex froze, screaming. Harry jumped down from the cab, ran to Sonny, and gently lifted him up in his arms. Beth appeared from the other side of the truck not knowing what was happening, ran and brought Flo Ann to Alex, slapped him and cried, "What's the matter with you? You're supposed to watch her! Where's Sonny?"

"Beth!" William screamed, taking Sonny from Harry, rushing to his Ford pickup. Harry overtook him, hopped in the cab and opened the passenger door. William yelled "Bring me a blanket, he's bleeding.

Beth yelled. "What happened? Whose hurt?"

"He'll be all right. Beth!" William shouted, "stay with the kids!"

Alex ran onto the porch, pulled a dry blanket from a laundry basket, ran to the moving pickup as fast as he could, chanting "Please, please, please," balled it and threw it into the cab. Beth moaned. Flo Ann held her house dress, crying as Alex ran back to his mother. "Take your sister into the house." Alex stood still, stunned, watching the pickup speed away. "Now!"


He took Flo Ann by the hand and walked back toward the house.
"We wanted to ride. We just wanted a ride," Flo Ann sobbed.

Alex lifted her in his arms and ran to the porch. They watched their mother stagger to the truck. Pete grabbed her to steady her and said, "Mrs. Sinclair, we didn't see. We didn't know. Oh God, I wish it was me."

"Let me look, Pete. Where did it happen?"

"Mrs. Sinclair, Please, don't?"

She stared at the back of the truck. "Oh God! There's so much blood. Oh my god!" Alex watched his mother collapse in Pete's arms as he sat on the stoop. His arms around Flo Ann. He thought, how was the window open? I was always careful about safety. We'd nap in afternoons, our legs and arms entwined. Flo finally said, "Sonny pestered me about riding on the truck. I thought daddy was driving. I was going to boost Sonny up and then climb up myself. I thought you wouldn't let us, and you would make me watch Sonny while you got a ride."

"Why did you do it Flo?"

"Because you are always first. I heard you ask Daddy if you could ride in the truck, and he told you to wait awhile. You never told me, and I wanted to be first, that's why I opened the window, woke sonny, climbed out the window, lifted him out, and ran to the truck."

"Jesus Flo." Alex wanted to smack her, punch her, and choke her. Instead he sat there; "It's my fault. If I didn't fall asleep it wouldn't have happened."

The night before Sonny was buried, his father said, "Alex, come on, no one else wants to see Sonny the way he is. Tomorrow the coffin will be sealed. Now is he only time we can say good-bye." Alex went with him, but stayed at the back of the funeral parlor, sobbing. He remembered how Sonny's laugh lit up his face when he boosted him up to a tree to reach out to a robin's egg. Sonny knew without being told not to touch its frail shell. He saw his eyes question the pale blue shell, the mother's red breast. And the time he watched Sonny run from a hissing, honking goose, then turn with a stick, defiant at being embarrassed, and chased it back to the barnyard in zigzag pursuit, then stopped to cry, throwing the stick down, walking back to the house, ineffectively punching and kicking Alex sobbing "I was scared. I was scared." Alex laughed at him then, and soothed him as they walked back and locked the pen.

*************
Forty years later, Alex still blamed himself for Sonny's death. He had a hole inside that would never be filled, and a wall that no one had ever broken through. The farm was vaguely remembered as a place he had once been. That was all it was to him after that day. He did go back to bring flowers to the grave, stop in Walton, pick up groceries, and bring it back his family, stay a few hours and leave. That was a long time ago.
Change o Tense

In Babylon village, on Long Island, New York, The 7-11 coffee was just kicking in. Alex put the container in its caddy and lit his sixth Winston light with a match which shot out a piece of sulfur that burned red hot just below his eye. "Son of a Bitch!" He swerved the car onto the shoulder. "You have to wear safety goggles with these matches." Alex talked to himself. You might as well know that now. His therapist told him there was nothing wrong with it. He adjusted the rear view mirror and saw the black chunk of burned sulfur still imbedded top of his cheek bone. "I must have hit a nerve." He spat on his finger, wiped it, rubbed his finger on the seat and saw a raw looking red blister starting to form. "Shit!"
He tapped it gently with more spit, leaving it there until the excess rolled down his cheek, then wiped it off. He ripped off a clean corner of the 7-11 napkin, pressed until the forming blister broke and left it pasted to his cheek, then sat there, finished his cigarette and the rest of the coffee. He checked his watch; nine-thirty Saturday morning. He'd been up forty five minutes. He turned to gauge the traffic flow and stared at a sign on a building directly across the street on Motor Parkway: "Baby's Breath Florist."

His mind flooded with thoughts of mountains and fields of his early years, pure air and the clarity and innocence of childhood. For the first time in almost three decades, he felt the world's movement as it was back then under his feet, the future stretching out. As he pulled out and passed the florist, lost dreams and failures rose up like a wave of death, mildew, and rot. For three hours he drove by parks and school yards trying to fill his lungs with fresh air. They felt on fire. He screeched to a stop at a yellow light turning red by Route 231 going west into Babylon Village. Automobile horns blared behind. He looked up at the green light he was sitting at, gunned the car and slammed the brakes to screeching halt when the green light turned yellow then red. Green again, he drove as if in a daze until he stopped at another light. He looked around. He was at Argyle Park. He saw the heavy woman sitting on a bench by the lake, her hand on a stroller. He watched couples walking with small children between them, arms stretched down, each holding a tiny hand. He hated Main Street with its 50 miles an hour traffic in a 20 mile an hour zone. He hated the intersection's longest traffic lights in the county, hated his Breath, stinking like an ashtray. Alex hated the whole ducking world and the fat woman with her stroller. He opened the manila folder Jake gave him and looked at the picture. It was her. She had another baby. His heart raced. He backed into the public parking area, ran across the street dodging cars and walked into the Post Office Cafe. He knew he was going to need a drink.

The interior fit his mood and he relaxed as he determinedly walked through the gloom to a heavy dark wood bar and ordered a Johnny Walker Black from the pony tailed bartender with a silver dollar hanging from a chain on his neck. He had to be six foot six, with blond hair, blue eyes and an open look that made Alex want to trust him.

"The bar opens in ten minutes Mister. I could get you something else until then."
Alex held up his hand with a ten dollar bill in it, flat, crisp and new, saw it shaking, put it on the bar and spoke firmly, still angry. "I really need a drink. I could go down the street and buy a bottle from Ferraro's liquor store but I don't have time."

The bartender looked at the clock at ten of 12 and said, "You don't have to go anywhere, you got it. You a local? I haven't seen you around."

"This used to be the Babylon Village Post Office." "Yep," he said as he poured a double.
"Back visiting?"

"No, just looking to find something, maybe myself, maybe someone else brand new."

"Divorced?"

"Yeah. Three years now."

"You still love her?"

"Love her? I never loved her. I thought I did. The night of our wedding she changed into another person."

"It must have been a battle."

"Nah. It was short and sweet. She took everything, my tools, baseball cards, H. O. trains, my self respect and my life, even the light bulbs--not even an explanation, although I guess she didn't really need to explain, but she could have left my things. I bet she sold them, the fat bitch."

"What happened? A boy friend? Girl friend?" He had become interested and leaned on the bar smoking a Cigarillo looking sympathetic.

Alex choked. His chest tightened. He waved for a refill and the glass was filled to the brim. Alex knocked it back, feeling the smooth caramel charcoal taste slide down his throat and spread out inside his belly.

"Our little girl died. Three months old. The cops thought I killed her because it was so long after her birth and because I was the only one who took care of her. My wife never went near her, never wanted her, couldn't bare to get her hands dirty, or deal with diapers. You know what babies are? Vulnerable, having absolute trust in the person caring for them? Oh God! She was so beautiful, so fragile!"

The bartender suddenly rose up from leaning and said, "Holy Shit! You're the guy in the newspapers two years ago! Did you do it?"
#$%^mmmmmmmmmm


Alex sighed. "It never ends. It follows you to your grave. No, I didn't do it. I thought at one time maybe my ex-wife did because she had the opportunity, but after, I thought about it, she didn't. She had no motive. Our daughter wasn't a problem for her career and she had nothing to do with her care. They never found anything that caused Jenny's death. They cut her up into pieces the bastards, a whole group of them. Fucking ghouls. Used her as an exercise for interns to teach them how to do a post marten. You know what it's like? You're in shock, and they take her and open her little body up and cut pieces of every organ and fold her little stomach inside out."


"Oh, my God Mac! I'm going to be sick." He was pale. Alex grabbed his arm, clenched it, looked into his eyes and said, "You know, back then, I wanted to do it to their kids, in my mind, you know over and over. But I couldn't--except in my mind-- every fucking day as I waited to get her body released so we could bury her, thinking about her in pieces."

"Okay Okay," he said, eyes wide. "I believe you Mac. I believe you. Take it easy. Have another drink--on me."

As he filled the glass Alex asked pointedly, "Do you believe me? Really?"

"People tell me their stories. All kinds are spilled out here on this bar. I know the bullshit from the real scoop. People look away when they lie. You didn't. Yeah, you told the truth. I have a gut for the truth."

Alex looked at him, desperate. "Let me ask you something? I've been thinking--suppose I replace my Jenny with another baby? I don't mean replace, I'm sorry, no I could never replace Jenny. I mean what if I find a baby no one wants and raise her?"

"You're gonna steal a baby?"

"No. No. I'd never do that. Let's say if I got a baby through adoption, foster father, something like that. You read about it all the time in the papers, or a surrogate mother, a lawyer representing a pregnant girl, that kind of thing. Do you think that would be abnormal?"

"Nah. Gee, I don't know about any of that, only what I read in the papers, There was this guy in Bay Shore years ago they got for selling babies. Gave him a slap on the wrist and took his license. A year later he got his license back, but did real estate deals instead. They had it in the Babylon Beacon on the front page."

"Silas David." Alex said.

"What? You got your baby from him?"

"No. But I just came from Bay Shore. I spoke to his brother-in-law, Jake."

"You're going to buy a baby from him?"

"No. But I know who the woman was who sold him the baby, and if I'm lucky, I'll have a baby soon."

"I don't know Mac. My cousin tried to adopt. It took six years."

"This woman who sold it through Silas David has a baby. I just saw her with it in a stroller. I'm going to see her and feel her out. You know, negotiate."

"What did Silas say?"

"Silas is in Israel. Give me another drink and I'll tell you the story. By the way, what's your name?"

"They call me Harry The Horse."

"Play the ponies?"

"Uh, uh. I had a betting service. I sold winners."

"What's a betting service."

"Actually it was a sports service. I bought a list of people who gamble and called them up. Actually I stole half the list and bought the other half from a guy that owed me money. I'd bullshit them. Half I'd give one team, and the other half the opposing team. I didn't know a thing about sports or horses. I'd charge the winners three hundred dollars for a tip on a football game. It was great for a while, except for the threats from the losers. Think about it. Twenty guys call you and you give ten the winning team, and ten the opposing team I got ten winners. and ten losers and man, I was raking it in and you know how word gets around?"

"Why aren't you still doing it?"

"One day two crooked noses, you know, mob guys walked in and wanted a piece of it. I was scared shit when they walked in. I sold it for five grand and got out. No way did I want to be connected to those guys. Then I went south and followed the golf tournaments hustling golf. I used to be a golf pro. I made out until enough people knew I was hustling. After that I had to handicap to get a game. The big money was gone, so I took what I had and came back here and got a job at Slomins installing burglar alarms. I worked there for two years, then couldn't get up one day with a back problem and got this job seven months ago."

The sound of the back door opening stopped Harry The Horse. He went back into the gloom of the hallway. Alex heard him talking to someone, then he returned, poured himself a beer and filled my glass.

"So. Tell me about Bay Shore?"

"Who was that in the back," Alex asked, suspicious?"

"The cook, a lunch crowd starts coming in about ten minutes."

Alex sipped his drink and said, "I looked up the lawyer-real estate investor Silas David and knocked on a door with his name painted in gold letters. Nobody answered. I went down the hall and knocked on all the doors in the old converted frame house and nobody knew much of anything about him except for the superintendent I found in the basement stuffing his face.

He was a short, balding, beer belly and cigar puffing slob surrounded by girlie magazines, empty Budweiser cans and K.F.C. cartons. Between his wiping his greasy fingers on his pants and his tearing chicken apart, sucking it off the bone dipping a plastic what I call a spork, you know, that combination of a spoon and fork in one piece of plastic, into a quart of mashed potatoes and gravy, and in his short bursts of conversation I got some information."

A young couple walked in and sat in a booth on the other side of the bar. Alex reached out and grabbed a hand full of beer nuts. He laid them out on the bar in a row, picked one up and popped it in his mouth.


"Let me get them Mac, be right back." Harry The Horse said as he went down the bar just as the cook came out of the swinging door behind the bar. Harry The Horse came back. "They want lunch. The cook will take care of them. A waitress comes in at one o'clock. So, go on."

Listen, "can I call you Harry.

"Whatever you want."

Alex cracked a beer nut and parked it on the top of his gum letting the sweet salty taste fill his mouth.

"Well, the fat slob said, "yeah, I know him. He's my brother-in- law. You want to reach Silas David, you got to go to Tel Aviv. He left three months ago with a boat load of trees."

"Someone told me he sold black market babies. I'm looking to adopt one."

He dropped a chicken bone on the table, licked his fingers and said, "You got to be kidding. He sold one baby, absolutely according to the dictates of the law. That woman signed a contract-to sell her baby when it was born, all expenses paid and three thousand dollars for her. I know because I was a witness to her signature, which I notarized. I told Silas she was trouble. I could tell."

"What do you mean, you could tell?"

"Hey, you're asking a lot of questions here,he said in an angry, suspicious voice. You a detective? A cop?"

"Whoa! You get hot quick." Alex laid a 50 dollar bill on the table. "Just a father whose baby died."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. A terrible thing to lose a child." He picked up the 50 folded it and put it in his pocket.

"Anyway, she was a whiner, and a liar. First she said her husband punched the crap out of her when she told him she was having his baby. He said it wasn't his, and left town. When Silas drew up papers to serve him, she read them, and tells him she wasn't married but her boyfriend was going to marry her, but on the way to town hall, she told him she was pregnant and that's when the beating occurred.

"Shit Alex." Harry asked, "You sure you want to get involved with this whack?"

"Just, listen, will you? This guy says, "She was a sick ticket--a Jehovah Witness. All during her pregnancy she came with these people all dressed up to kill, trying to convert me, asking me to get them an appointment to see Silas David too. I finally told them not to come back or I'd call the cops. I don't know what she told them, but they were really surprised when I laid that on them. And us being Jewish. Beat that."

He wiped his fingers, burped, cracked another Bud and continued.

"Uh, do that again. I'm trying to remember everything."

Alex placed another 50 on the table.

He put his hand on it and slid it across the table and snapped it.

"Anyway, three months after the baby was adopted, she wanted it back. Ebenezer told her he didn't know who the adopting parents were because he was just a middle man between the other parents who were represented by another attorney. She stormed out and got the big time lawyer, Seeben, and sued Silas David for a million dollars, lost, then pressed criminal charges against him. That crap in the papers was all bullshit. Fuckin Seeben had a hard on for my brother-in-law and he represented her with the criminal charges because he got fucked out of his thirty percent fee on the civil trial. Silas David's a scrappy kid, but that Seeben was too connected to fuck with."

"Yeah--I know what you mean."

添ou get fucked by Seeben too?"

"Who's Seeben?"

He runs the biggest law firm in the county, practically owns Bay Shore. He was the fist lawyer that took on Lilco and beat them on a meat suit."

"Meat suit?" I asked, thinking refrigerated railroad cars full of warm meat, all those little micro organisms growing in the meat?

No, amputations on the job, poor safety, a guy falls, loses his legs, or gets crisped."

"Oh that."

"Yeah, when he started, Seeben was a skinny punk lawyer who smelled the money. Forget it. After he won, everybody who ever lost a suit against Lilco, went to him in droves."

"Would you know any other lawyers who sell babies?"

"Nah, I'm just a custodian."

"Would you have any of the files, any photographs, what she looks like?"

"I can't do that. Hey, you tell me you're a father who lost his kid and that's all I know about you. How do I know you're not an investigator for that bitch and she wants to take another crack at my Brother-in-law?"

"Listen, my name is Alexander Sinclair You want to go through my wallet?" He took it out.

He looked at it. "Nah. I'd rather not know who you are. Since you offered to show me your, I. D. It's OK. My name's Jake."

"Look Jake, I'll pay. All I want is a description. That's it--and an address would be helpful. I'll double what I gave you."

He leaned back and looked at me, sizing me up. "I can look in the boxes. When do you need it? I'm not promising anything."

"I need it now, or never. I can probably find her without your information just by looking up newspaper stories. But I don't have a lot of time."

"All right, I'll look now. Give me the money."

"Alex gave him a hundred dollar bill and said, "you get the other half when you give me what I'm looking for."

He shoved the bill in his pocket, got up, opened a door, and walked into a storage bin, turned on a light and said, "Come on. Help me. It's in one of these boxes. Her name is Norma Minguez."

The boxes were alphabetical, so we only went through three to find the file.
The hospital records were almost worthless. Alex jotted her address. They went through trial boxes and found a newspaper photograph of Norma. Alex wanted a physical description, and wanted her medical history, but Jake wouldn't let it out of his hands. Alex glanced through it and saw she was on anti-depressants before and after the birth. None during the pregnancy. Alex put the news clipping in his pocket and gave Jake another hundred dollar bill.

"Thanks much for the local color. I got to go. Thanks a lot, Jake."

Alex looked at Harry. "Then I came here. That's it. Wish me luck."
Sure, Mac, uh, Alexander."

"Call me Alex."

"OK, Alex. The best of luck. I mean it, from my heart, man."

典hanks Harry. I'll let you know how things work out."

"You bet." He said.

***

Alex left five dollars on the bar and walked out into the blinding sunlight. The woman was still sitting on the bench across the street, in Argyle park. The stroller in front of her. She hadn't moved an inch. He walked across the street through the parking lot over to the bench she was sitting on, past her to the waterfall, back around her and stopped between her and the stroller looking at the baby. It looked about the age Jenny was when she died, pink dress, yellow bonnet, and arms in a knit sweater, sleeves rolled up. This baby seemed strange, though, unmoving like Jenny did when Alex found her only Jenny was face down, eyes open. This kid had her eyes closed.


"This is a beautiful park. Do you come here often?" Alex asked trying to open a conversation.

"Oh, yes. I live just down past the library. It's cold there. The landlord didn't put the heat on yet. It's warm here in the sun." She didn't turn toward Alex, her head down.

"That's convenient. What a beautiful baby. Boy or girl?" Alex smiled at her. She did not see it, her head raised, looking toward the stroller. He saw she had been beautiful once. It hung there, beneath gray hair overtaking auburn strands, wrinkles etched her forehead, and a pallor of exhaustion seeped from her face. She looked at him then, nervous--off guard--making him uncomfortable, her eyes wide, mouth open, shaking her head as if to say how dumb he was not being able to tell that, then mumbled, "She's a girl."

"How old is she?"

"She's two months old," she said as if two months old was a burden.

He looked around the park. A couple strolled about thirty feet away. A group of kids raced around the lake. The boys in the front, long legs pumping like pistons called out jeering at the stragglers. He felt disoriented. "She looks so peaceful. Babies are so vulnerable, don't you think?" He remarked, suddenly thinking she could be his. As he turned to the baby he thought about Jenny's tiny hands gripping his finger, her breath sweet and fresh, her mouth wide in a smile as he blew kisses at her.

"How old is she? I'm sorry, you said three months, but she looks almost new born." Before she could answer, Alex bent over the stroller, unclasped the belt and lifted her, his heart pounding in anticipation of holding her close.

"Don't touch her!" She yelled.

The baby felt stiff, like a plastic doll. 妬s this a doll?" He turned, saw the fear in her face and chills ran down his spine and the back of his neck. "This baby's dead!" "She's ice cold!"

"She died last night. I didn't kill her. I can't give her up. I won't. I don't know what to do. I can't bury her, see her in a coffin."

"You crazy Bitch! You let this poor baby die, didn't you? You're a Jehovah Witness, aren't you? You sorry piece of shit! You killed her didn't you? Answer me!"

"I didn't kill her!" She sobbed, head down, turned away. "She wouldn't eat for days, and when I woke up last night to see if she would take a bottle, she didn't move."

Alex wanted to throw up. He put the baby back in the stroller, his knees buckling, his head reeling. He dropped to the bench, shaking.

"I'm calling the police, so you better leave as quickly as you can." His voice sounded hollow as if someone else was talking in his voice. Horror swept over him as an eight wheeler roared by, clack, clack, and clack. The horror passed with the truck leaving him queasy, yet relieved that circumstance developed this way, because a split second before he reached to pick her up, it had gone through his mind to snatch her. Norma sobbed, clutching herself, rocking back and forth on the bench. Jenny filled Alex's mind so overwhelmingly he touched her and said, "Calm down. I'm sorry. I lost a daughter too." In saying that, his heart went out to her for her need so immense for her baby, that the denial of the baby's death became so real, she could not imagine burying it, waiting for
things to go back to what they were.

He asked evenly, "Why is she so cold. You keep her in the refrigerator? Its common knowledge they freeze people and put them on ice for future times in hopes of finding a way to bring them back. It won't work. She's in good shape today, but tomorrow...?"

She picked the baby up and started to walk to the street. "I am calling the cops," Alex repeated. "You'll both be better off."

She ran. Alex looked at his watch. It was three thirty. He shook his head in bewilderment, got up slowly, walked shakily to his car and drove toward Bay Shore. He passed the first pay phone he saw and the second. At the third, he pulled over, dialed 911 and when it connected he hung up. Fuck it. He went home and crawled into bed.

A month dragged by as Alex gathered forms and applications. Reviewing the stack of Adoption documents, he got disgusted with the bureaucracy and the reams of small print paperwork. The six page applications of adoption applications were so involved he stopped before he started. Trying another venue, he placed advertisements in the personal section of Newsday. "Single dad wants to adopt a baby girl." He kept it to 3 lines for 30 days. He got every crazy, including desperate couples who would pay for any rejects and several lawyers who said they'd pay healthy finder's fees for any unsuitable baby produced by his ad. The most persistent of the couples were Bryson Vanbuskirk and his wife Mildred, who called every day, sometimes twice. Every day they'd leave a message, filling up his machine with their impeccable qualifications. He felt sorry for the Vanbuskirk's. If he found a baby girl, it would be Alexs' and the phone calls would be trashed. He was getting desperate, unable to steal a baby knowing how the parents would feel losing one. He thought about it, but that was it.

He went to church, a different one each day, sometimes two, to pray his heart out. He lit candles until his arm was tired, then stuffed the poor box, as tears streamed down his face while he sobbed, "Jenny, my Jenny."

At six o'clock, late afternoon the next day, he drove to the Post Office Cafe. It was crowded. He didn't go in. Instead, he walked around the Village, up and down the streets looking in windows seeing swing sets in back yards, bicycles, trampolines, kids through open windows all the way down to the Marina. It was getting dark. The smell of the sea was like the scent of woman that dusky night. Alex walked through a playground along the way, then started back to see if the Cafe had thinned out. As he strolled past the library, he saw a heavy woman turn the corner, broke into a run, turned the corner and saw her stop to cross the street. He walked quickly, and when closer, saw Norma's profile.

"Hey, how you doing, remember me?" He said, nonchalant, reaching her, wanting desperately to be with her.

"Oh!" Her head jerked, scared. "You're the man who yelled at me. I didn't kill her. I swear I didn't."

"I believe you," Alex spoke softly. "It must have been terrible losing two babies."
The light changed and Alex took her arm and they walked across to the park side of Main Street where she sat on a bench. He stood slightly away from her to her side.

"I only lost one." Her voice was suspicious, "How...how did you know about the other one? Mine is not gaining weight. She doesn't grow. The other one is, I guess, is still alive
somewhere, living with strangers. I pray for her."

"Silas David, the lawyer." I said.

"Oh God! Who are you? How do you know all this. Are you a detective? You work for Silas David, don't you?"

"No. I'm just a daddy that lost his daughter."

"Oh, please? Don't take my baby? Please don't...? She's not yours. She's mine. I have a birth certificate for her."

"Yeah? Where was she born?

"Brunswick." Brunswick was a general hospital and had a psychiatric and a rehab ward.
"I have no intention of going near you or your baby. It's a coincidence I just saw you as I was taking a walk through the village and remembered you. I heard the story about you, and Silas David, and Seeben, and thought by some remote chance it was you. I was curious, that's all. Actually, I'm interested in adopting a living baby, not one who's dead. I heard from Jake you sold the baby, then wanted it back, and when you were told no, you sued Silas David."

"I never sold my baby. She was to be taken care of. Silas David visited me in the hospital and said I could have her back when my health got better, that I couldn't take care of her, and social services would take her away from me and put her in foster care because I was too sick to properly care for her. He said when I got better, they'd fill out more papers and I could get her back. I signed a lot of papers. After I gave birth, she was gone. He had arranged for her to be taken. When I was better and went to see him to get her back he told me the contract I signed never said I could get her back. The deal, he said, was all my expenses would be taken care of and I was to be paid, less his finders fee. He showed me a bank account with six thousand dollars in my name. It had my signature on it. I didn't remember signing it."

So the skinny money smelling kid and his fat pig of a brother in law were liars. Alex felt giddy, impetuous, as if he could do anything and it didn't matter. He looked her over and saw a child bearer and with a little weight loss she'd be a knockout. Opportunity comes, he thought, and if you don't see it, it's gone.

"I have a proposition for you." He blurted it out. "If you agree to be a surrogate mother, I'll pay all your expenses, and you can visit the baby for the rest of your life, and I'll support you for the rest of your life. You can even live with me. How's that? C'mon. You might even get to love me."

Her eyes dropped. "I'm not that kind of woman? I couldn't do that. I'm married and it would be a sin."

"But didn't your boyfriend leave you before you got married? This would be the same as it was with your boy friend, I mean making love. I would want the baby and wouldn't leave you because I wanted to skip supporting it. . It wouldn't be carnal. It would be just for you to have my baby. It's only sin when lust is involved."

She looked at me suspiciously. "You're lusting at me right now. I can feel it." Her voice grated, accusing, "You want to have carnal knowledge of me. I know your kind. Filth! Scum!"

Bad Idea Alex, I thought.

She clenched her hands and pressed them against her chin, crouched and shook like a kicked puppy as she backed away from me.

"Oh My God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything at all like that. I Just, well, want a baby so much. I miss mine as much as you miss yours." Alex sat down by her and reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. She turned abruptly, eyes full of disgust and rage as his outstretched hand fell full on her breast, grabbing it, not her shoulder.

She screamed. "Rape! Rape!" Help me! Help meee!"

He backed away, turned, and ran up Main street to Deer Park Ave, ducked into an alley, cut across another street, found a dumpster and climbed in. Three hours later he climbed out stinking like the raw garbage he just wallowed in. He walked carefully, avoiding people, and stayed in shadows as much as he could and then slipped into the Post Office Cafe at twelve thirty that night.

*********************

There were couples in the booths on the other side of the wood rails across from the bar. The crowd was gone. Three grubby looking men and a preppy looking guy in a shark skin suit were lined up with ample room for private drinking between them. Alex sat on a stool at the end of the bar, his back to the door.

Harry came over. "The baby guy." He whispered conspiratorially, "contact her? Get yourself a baby?" Harry's nose wrinkled. "Shit. Alex! You smell like puke. He moved back away from the ripe smell. Alex told Harry about Norma and the dead baby, the scene by the park and the dumpster.

"Jesus Christ! What's going on with you and these dead babies? It's crazy, like something is following you. Holy shit. Alex, I think you're jinxed. You think maybe it's all bad luck? And a dumpster? That's why you smell so bad." Then his eyes grew wide, a mixture of disbelief and approval flashing and he grinned, lighting a Tiparillo.

"You make your own luck Harry, for the most part. Nothing like being jinxed, but hey, you do what you have to do to change luck when it's bad. That's why I put an ad in Newsday."

"You're really obsessed with getting a baby, aren't you? Why don't you just get married again?"

"It would take too long. The whole deal about finding a woman is too much for me to handle right now. There was only one woman in my life and I married her too quick. I wanted to have a baby. She didn't, she told me after we were married. Actually, Jenny was a mistake. She didn't have her diaphragm one night and I used a rubber I had in my wallet for two years. I guess it dried out. God, was she fucking pissed when she found out she was pregnant."

"Jesus. I never use them things. I got the big V." "Don't you ever want kids Harry? How old are you?

"Thirty Seven. I don't know, I never thought about it, but I can always have the V turned back to an O if I ever meet someone I want to have a family with. You can freshen up in the back if you want. Alex, what'll you have, Dewars Black Label?"

"Uh, uh, you remembered, though."

"That's my job."

"I'll have a tap beer."
釘ud or Heineken?"

"Heineken."

He pulled an ice cold mug out of the freezer, tipped the glass and slowly poured the beer, and let the head fall on the tap drain. Alex got an amber glass of Heineken, a thin skull of suds on top. Harry stood back and lit another Tiparillo.

"So what are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I'm at a standstill. I went to church."

"That's a good thing to do."

"I'll see."

Alex had another beer, went to his car, and turned toward home. The street lights streamed through the car window as his cigarette smoke billowed up, spreading over the windshield in the form of an angel, which hung there for a few seconds then started to
fade. He puffed until the tip was two inches long, flipped it out, snapped the filter off another and lit it, trying to keep it there. It faded despite his efforts. Alex never heard of anybody blowing an angel in the air.

He mused, the next time I see Harry I'll ask him if he had ever seen or heard of anyone doing that. He waited for another spiritual sign on the way home, but nothing else out of the ordinary occurred. Still musing about the angel, he fell asleep on the couch watching television. The next morning, up at six, Alex checked the machine. There was one baby message, not asking for one, but selling one. "I have what you want. Be at the back of Southside Hospital at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. Leave a brown paper bag with
three thousand dollars at the bottom, wrapped up with a container of 7-11 coffee and a donut on top. On the top of the bag write on a piece of ruled paper ripped off of a spiral notebook, write: "Do not steal my breakfast. I'll be right back" Place it alongside the rear emergency door. I'll be wearing a white lace blouse and blue jeans."

***************

The next morning at six thirty, Alex drove down main street with a brown paper bag. Inside, on the bottom there was an envelope with 30 one hundred dollar bills. On top of the envelope there was a container of 7-11 coffee and a jelly donut. A note written on ruled lined paper torn from a spiral notebook was scotch taped to the top of the bag. A sign came up across the street, "Southside Hospital." Alex turned in, drove around the back and stopped by an old man sitting on the rail of the emergency ramp. His eyes pierced into Alex, locking his eyes to him. Alex felt an enormous sense of euphoria and spirituality. He pulled his eyes away and ran them over the old man. His lion like head of hair and his flowing beard reminded him of the picture of God in his first catechism. .He hitched up his baggy pants, pulled at his crotch and walked over to where Alex had stopped. His gait was that of a younger man but his steel blue eyes were those of a much older one. He asked, yellow teeth widened in a lopsided grin "Got a cigarette mister?"

"Oh God! Yes." Alex offered him his pack, handing him a Bic he got free with three packs.
The man stuck a cigarette in his mouth. The flame shot up as he lit it, singing his beard. His eyes went blank for a full minute, staring through Alex to somewhere else. He spoke, his voice shaking in anger. "You got a mother of a blow torch here mister. I thought I was in Nam with the crazy ducking generals."

"I'm sorry, I never use it. I have a lighter in the car." He handed the Bic and cigarettes back, minus a small handful he put in his coat.

"Thanks a lot. Got a twenty for a cup of coffee?"

Not thinking, Alex reached in his pocket and pulled out a ten. He plucked it out of Alex's hand and slipped it into the pocket the cigarettes went into.

"Thanks. You owe me ten." He stared at Alex, eyes drilling into his head. "You belong here, did you know that? You should hang around, relax, maybe I'll bring you back a cup of coffee--unless you find someone else." He walked backward down the side of the hospital, watching Alex, turned at the sidewalk, and slipped out of sight. Alex, in a daze, took the brown paper bag and walked up to the emergency ramp, put it beside the door, went back to his car, put the seat back, slid down, and waited. An hour later, as he started to day dream, a beat up, black, Chevrolet hatch back, pulled up in front of him. He rubbed his eyes, cleared his head and watched the Chevy. A young girl dressed in blue jeans and a white lace blouse, with red hair, about five foot eight, hopped out. She came around to the back of the jeep, opened the hatch and took out a big Macy's shopping bag. She walked up the ramp and laid it alongside the emergency door. She picked up the brown paper bag, crumpled the note, cool as a cucumber, took out the coffee, ripped the tab off and sipped, picked up the jelly donut, shoved it in her mouth, took a swig of the coffee, and looked around. Then, suddenly looking furtive and scared, she reached in, took out the manila envelope, ripped it open, ruffled the bills with her fingers and ran back to her Chevy. As she sped off, Alex scribbled the license plate down on a scrap of paper. If there was no baby, he could trace her. He opened the car door, ran up the ramp, grabbed the bag, ran back to his car and headed for his furnished room. On the way, not even looking in the bag on the passenger's seat next to him, hearing a baby's cries coming from it, he stopped in CVS, bought infant diapers, baby bottles, nipples, an eye dropper, baby lotion, powder, four different kinds of formula, pabulum, rattles, and anything else he could think of. He drove home, parked the car, took everything inside,
Took the baby out of the bag, held her gently in his arms. He did not mind the after birth and blood that stuck her toes, body and blanket. He bathed her in the kitchen sink using Ivory soap and lukewarm water, dried, powdered, diapered, and slipped a T-shirt over her chest. He took a pink union suit, slipped it on, buttoned it up, and brushed her hair with a baby brush.

He named her Ariel. She was tiny, and couldn't have been more than a day or so old. He made a bottle of water and glucose, warmed it, squirted it on his wrist and gently dripped a little onto her tongue. She clamped her lips on the nipple and sucked. "Ariel." He said softly, as he rocked her. "Ariel, Ariel." He improvised Elvis's lyrics, "All your trials will soon be over. Hush little baby, don't you cry, Daddy's here, your Daddy's here."

Whenever she cried, he changed and bathed her, held her close, inhaled her sweet baby's breath, and exhaled his own away from her. She clung to him when he held her, staring up at him, her green eyes with little gold flecks. Ariel was not Jenny, but that didn't matter. Jenny was dead. Ariel was saved from the fate of an orphanage, and she would never die of reasons unknown. He took her everywhere, slept, every night with her in his arms, her fingers tight around his thumb. When she would fall asleep, he'd gently lay her in a bassinet pressed tight against the bed, her hand still clutching his thumb as he lay down on the edge of it. Every day he awoke and said, "You're still Alive. God has given my life back to me for me to take care of you."

He moved into a two bedroom apartment, establishing himself as a single father over the next two months. He decided when Ariel was old enough to ask about mammas, he wouldn't tell her she was abandoned by her mother. He'd tell her, "Your mamma died days after you were born. Your mom ma really loved you Ariel. She loved you more than anything else in the world." He imagined them crying together, he for Jenny and Ariel and Ariel for her mother. It's strange how death can create an undying love. She'd hold my hand and I'll gently wipe her tears. I'll hear her sometimes in her sleep, calling "mommy? I love you mommy."

Alex thought about school coming when she would be old enough. How could he enter an unregistered abandoned baby in any school? She needed a birth certificate. He called Brunswick hospital, Norma's name, and hospitals being busy places, Alex managed to get a birth certificate duplicate with little problem. a birth certificate with a few corrections. Everything was going in the right direction.

***************

He made an appointment with a doctor to get the patch or anything that could help him quit. He hired a baby-sitter, interrogated her until she was about to cry, then apologized and explained how he cherished Ariel. The sitter put on a smile and said, "Gee, Mr. Sinclair, I wish my dad cared for me as much as you care for her."

Alex smiled and said, "Ask your Dad. I bet when you were as young as Ariel, he didn't leave you alone for a minute."

Her face changed, brightened and answered, "Mr. Sinclair, you're probably right. I remember how he interrogated all the boys I saw more than once, asking them where they lived, their parent's occupations, what they wanted to be. I used to be so embarrassed."

"He just wanted the best for you, Jane." I said, not being condescending.


The phone call came back from the doctor the following week. He made an appointment for the following day for me to go to a laboratory in West Slip to have further tests done, assuring him there was nothing wrong. He worried anyway. The tests showed Alex had a cancerous tumor on his brain. At the doctor's office again, he was told, "Mr. Sinclair, I made an open appointment at Sloan Ketterering. They can help you live a little longer in comfort."

"Cancel it. I'm not dying with tubes in every orifice and a machine pumping air into my lungs."

"You don't understand. As it progresses in your brain, your mind will slowly deteriorate. You won't be able to control your behavior. It's for your own good and everyone else you meet."

"Fuck you, Doc, I don't have any problem with reality."

You may have already had delusions. That angel you told me about, and the homeless person who was God. Those may have been completely different circumstances you subverted to so called messages from God. "I could commit you right now, Mr. Sinclair, you are certifiable. You have the propensity of having schizophrenia and paranoia. If you refuse to be hospitalized, then at least allow me to prescribe medication to contain them. I can also prescribe pain killers."

Doc, your bedside manner sucks. But I like the blunt honesty. Give me the prescriptions and I swear I'll take them as ordered, but if you fuck me and I become a zombie, I'll flush them down the toilet."

"Agreed, but you must call me on a daily basis at first. We may have to change dosages or combinations. You must read every word on the bottles, and keep a record of any side
effects. And if you get them, report them to me."

Alex felt like a dying man already--a dead man in progress. He stuffed the prescriptions in his pocket, stopped at Genovese, had them filled and went home. He paid the baby-sitter, held Ariel as he read the bottles taking notes, then popped a blue and a green, half a white, and called the Vanbuskirk's, making an appointment for eight o'clock the next evening. He spent the next day packing Ariel's things into boxes, except for what she'd immediately need. He bundled her up and he drove around until he came to a church with cars in the lot. He went in and held held her, prayed for her, lit as many candles as he could for Ariel and Jenny and left a fifty dollar bill in the poor box.

Eight o'clock, the Vanbuskirk's knocked on his door. The meeting was successful. They walked in, humble, yet with an air of confidence and I saw immediately they were loving and caring people. He gave them whatever papers he had, scribbled a will leaving Ariel everything he owned, made her the beneficiary of my hundred thousand insurance policy from his last job. The premiums were up to date. He took a red and a yellow pill, gave them the keys to the apartment, a spare to his car, signed the title and said, "It be in the glove compartment with your phone number and address. Ariel hasn't been baptized. I'm Presbiterian and I know you're Christians, so I've left instructions she can choose whatever she wants to be when of age."

They looked at me, tears in their eyes. "How will we reach you."

"I'll call you." Alex's eyes welled up. "She's in the bedroom. Take her. I can't bear to see her again. It'll be better for her. She'll forget sooner. Oh, let me get you my passbook. I still have eight thousand dollars in it, and I want it used for her education."

"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Sinclair. We are educated people. I am Surgeon, a professor of mathematics and teach at Hofstra University. My wife Mildred is a stock
broker. She also has a Masters Degree in Social Science."

"Call me Alex, Mr. Vanbuskirk, and please leave now. I am exhausted and must rest."
Mildred took Ariel, and He came up again and again until Ariel's belongings were stripped from the apartment. Alex laid in his bedroom, with the door closed the lights out, and listened until they left. When he heard the door lock snap and the door close, he got up, ran downstairs and watched them pull away. The rear seat was packed with Ariel's things. Graham would have to use his mirrors to see behind him. he ran to his car to follow them, curious about where they lived.

Sitting on the hood of his car was the guy who looked like God, he met at Good Samaritan hospital. You have that ten you owe me?" Alex needed to hurry, so he pulled
a bill out his wallet, and handed him a twenty.

He held it up, inspected it, and said, "Thanks." He handed Alex a pack of Winstons and said "We are even. You better hurry, someone needs you."

Alex wanted to stay and find out just what kind of man this was, but he was right. He got in his car wanting to see where Ariel would call her home, and if by some miracle he recovered, he would come and take her back. He popped another red and blue, pumping his cheeks to get enough saliva to wash it down.

The trip ended in Sag Harbor on an estate sized piece of property. There was a running brook and a large pond, almost a small lake on one side. Fruit trees grew in an orchard and a horse roamed in a corral. Alex was fully satisfied. He watched them turn into the circular driveway to the large brick and stone house. The lights lit up the front yard, splashing on the car and the entrance as the car approached. Graham got out, ran around the front of the car and helped Mildred out. She held Ariel close to her as he assisted her up the steps. The front door swung wide and an elderly woman helped her in. Alex heard her say, "Oh my God Mildred, She's beautiful." Graham said, "Mother, please let us in, it's chilly."

"I know, she's beautiful mother. Don't get attached to her. Is her room ready?"

"Oh yes. The carpenters left an hour ago. Everything is perfect, you can hear a pin drop with the wall cut out so you can see her sleep from your bedroom. Mrs. Raynor is expecting you in the morning."

"The pediatrician? Good, we'll all go. I can't believe our luck. I'll run tests tonight. If her liver is good, I'll operate in the afternoon." Graham said warmly.

Alex listened to the love in their voices, excited and happy at finally having a child in their home. This was the last time he would hear those voices, or Ariel's, now that he is out of the picture. Tears rolled down his face as he watched the door slowly close with a solid thud. In its closing, the light blurred and in its ending, the lights outside shut down. The House was dark. Alex pounded his aching head against the steering wheel until he diminished the need to hold Ariel a final time and numbly looked away toward the street ahead of me. "Ariel, Ariel, He whispered softly. He idled down the block, turned around, passed the house slowly, stopped for a moment, because he felt nauseous and dizzy, going over the conversation in his mind. "Mother, don't get attached to her. If her liver checks out, I'll operate in the morning." His mind spun, with images of Ariel in a hospital,
getting cut up. Operate on who? He checked his watch. It was eleven thirty. He accelerated slowly, got down the block and punched the gas pedal, heading toward the Post Office Cafe.

**********
He arrived at twelve thirty, walked in and sat down. There were three customers at the bar. The booths were empty. One was paying his tab. Another was putting on her coat, and the other one, a dapper looking guy was hitting on a gorgeous blond, green eyed Amazon. She was as tall as Harry, had a figure that probably caused trucks and cars to crash watching her and not the road. The guy was flushed and his voice a little too loud.

"Hey honey, why go home alone?"

"I won't be alone," she said, smiling. "I'm calling a cab."

"And then when he drops you off, you're going to walk into a place that's empty. We can just talk, if you like."

"Yeah, sure. Get a better line Jack. That's older than God.

"Hey! Don't get nasty!" The dapper man got up and reached for her.

Harry quickly slipped from behind the bar and gripped the dapper man's shoulder. "I think you better leave." Harry's voice was firm and even.

添ou gonna make me?" The dapper man sneered as he spun around.

"No. She is. This is Laura, a black belt Karate, Ju Jitso New York State champion. I just don't want you to get broken up and bleed on my bar."

His face fell. Alex slid onto a bar stool. Laura smiled. "I wouldn't have hurt him Harry, I would have just given him a headache for a week to remind him of his manners."

"You got to be kidding me," The dapper man said.

"She's not kidding," Alex said. "Pick up last month's New York Times."

He stood there for a moment, off guard, then paid his tab and left mumbling, "I'll never come back in here again."

Laura took her coat off. "That guy's been ogling me since I got here. I swear, I didn't give him a reason to think what he thought. Give me a cup of hot water, Harry." She turned to Alex.

"Thanks, Alex, but It wasn't in the New York Times. It was in USA today."

"Oh. I'm sorry." He replied, and thought she wasn't kidding. He looked at his watch. He had the rest of the night, but he had to make sure he'd get help. Harry placed a steaming cup and saucer in front of Laura who took a tea bag out of her purse and dropped it in the cup.

Harry came over. "What'll it be Alex?"

"A favor. I'll pay good."

"What do you need."

"Can you disarm an alarm. I don't even know if there is one, but I assume there is one.

"Sure. What are you doing, burglarizing?"

"No. Yes. Not really. Harry, You haven't seen me around for awhile. I got a baby. I didn't steal it. I got it legitimate. I named her Ariel. I have her about three months now and I just found out I have brain cancer."

"Jesus Christ, Harry!"

"Listen. When I had an ad in the paper looking to buy or adopt. I got this call from these people who begged me to call them if I found a baby that didn't suit me and they'd pay me for it if it was a girl. When I found out I had cancer, I wanted to make sure Ariel was taken care of, so I called them, interviewed them and signed her over to them. They took her
earlier tonight."

"What are you going to do with her if you're dying? You're not making sense, Alex."

"Harry, let me explain the whole story. I followed them because I wanted to make sure she was going to be in a good place and when they got to where they live, I saw It was a mansion, but when they got to the house, I heard a conversation that led me to believe they are going to remove her kidney tomorrow, or both of them for that matter. Harry, they might kill her. They're going to do it right at the house."

"Jesus Christ, Alex. Why would they fucking do that?"

"I don't know. That's what I have to find out. Harry I need your help. I have no one else. Ariel has no one right now, either if I'm right about. See, it's perfect if they want her kidneys. There is no trace of her and in a couple of weeks there will be no one who ever heard or saw an Ariel."

Harry sighed. "So what do you want me to do. Go with you and disarm the alarm?"

"Yes."

"And then what?"

"Help me break in. I know where Ariel will be. I need you to grab her while I find out what they are going to do tomorrow."

"What if there's more to it than that? Suppose there's a guard or a butler or a fucking dog?"
Harry was talking loud. Laura came over. "What are you two guy doing?

I heard snatches of conversation."

"Laura's OK Alex," Harry said. Between the two of us we filled Laura in. "You poor son of a bitch. Sounds to me like you panicked. They must have heard it in your voice on the phone. I can see the bastards rushing over there. Maybe they're selling her kidneys. Maybe all of her organs. Oh my God! They must be bloodless people to even think of that."

"Harry's right." Laura's voice was shaking with rage. "There might be more people there. I'll go with you. I can handle anyone there, weapons or not."

Harry said, "My tools are still in my van. I have flashlights, too, even one that goes on your head to keep your hands free."

***********

They went out on the L.I.E. to Nichols Road, then south to 27, then made their way northeast, then north to Sag Harbor. Alex found the street easily, and they idled up just before it, then drove past. They went in on the north side of the property to avoid the security lights and because there was just a post and rail fence there. Laura and Alex waited, crouched behind shrubs while Harry reconnoitered the perimeter of the house.

Twenty minutes later he was back. "I disconnected the electric meter. If they don't have a backup generator, there will be no alarm. I also disconnected the phones. There's a porch in the back and a back door to a kitchen. I think that's the best way in. Most people with alarm systems have flimsy locks on doors depending on the alarm to prevent entry. Lara and Alex followed Harry back to the porch which had a screen door shut with a hook and eye. He tore the screen, stuck his hand in and lifted up the hook. He opened the door and went to the wooden kitchen door which had a solid bottom and glass panels on the top two thirds. Both Laura and I held flashlights huddled together so no light would appear other than where Harry worked. Using a flat head screwdriver he managed to bend and remove the exterior molding. When three moldings were removed, he pulled out tiny metal triangles that held the glass against the panel with needle nose pliers. He dug into the wood on the bottom right side with the screw driver and gently pushed up on the glass. It didn't budge. He pulled out the fourth piece of molding at the top of the door, removed the triangles from the frame, and tried again. The glass did not budge. He picked a utility
knife out of his tool box and cut the molding on the bottom about a quarter of an inch until the glass edge was exposed. He then ran the blade down the sides of the panel making a
slight scraping sound. Small curls of putty and wood shavings fell. When he was satisfied, he put the edge of his flat headed screwdriver on the top of the glass square and twisted. The glass broke free, falling onto the porch, shattering with a loud crash.

We froze, waiting. Five minutes later, Harry stuck his hand into the empty frame, felt around, found the handle and opened the door. Alex's stomach churned, and tasted like ashes. His heart pounded. Harry was breathing heavily. So was Laura. Alex led the way with a pencil flashlight, holding it low to reveal a center island, as they tip toed around it over a quarry stone floor into a carpeted dining room, which opened on a tiled entry foyer that led upstairs. No one spoke. Alex pointed up the stairs, his pencil flashlight held down behind him so they could see the stairs. He slid one hand up the banister, and climbed up to the last step, stepped out to the landing with hallway that stretched along the rear of the house, doors at each end. To the right there was one, to the left there were three. Alex went to the left, placed his hand on the gilt door handle, and twisted slowly until it wouldn't go anymore.
He turned, spread his light along the floor, leaned into it and held the light against his body. They followed. The door opened slowly, silent as Alex stepped into the room. He turned the pencil flashlight toward the room, along the floor, then across the room and when it lit up a king size bed, he moved swiftly.

The room flooded with light. Harry had turned on his head lamp, and Laura her wand. Alex was at Grahams side when he sat up, squinting his eyes. Alex put his hand over his mouth, the pencil flashlight against his throat and whispered, "You yell and I'll blow your
vocal cords all over this fucking bed."

Laura was at Mildred's side, who was still asleep. Harry quickly came alongside Alex and opened the end table. From the bottom drawer he pulled out a Smith and Wesson 44 caliber pistol. He put it in his pocket and asked, "Where is Ariel?"

Alex replied, "in there," pointing to his left. As Harry turned, his head lamp lit up two cribs through the adjoining room just past a huge archway. He ran to one, then the other and came back. "Which one is Ariel?"

"Oh shit. Take his gun and hold it on him. I'll get her."

Harry took the gun out of his pocket and trained it on Graham. I released my hand slowly. "Graham, if you say anything before come back, killer here will blow your brains out." Grahams eyes were wide with fright. Alex went into the other room. There was a pale baby in one crib and Ariel in the other. Alex picked her up, removing her outfit and saw a small Band-Aid on her arm. He ripped it off. There was a puncture wound and a small purple bruise around it. He laid her back down and went back to the bed. "What did you give her?"

"Nothing, I took some blood and ran some tests, that's all."

Harry pressed the gun against her temple. "And a mild sedative, because she wouldn't stop crying," he said casually.

"Where's your mother, Graham?"

"She's not here. She's at her home."

"Who is the other baby inside?"

"My Grand daughter."

"Where's her mother."

"In Europe."

"Doing what? Looking for babies?"

He didn't answer.

"Graham. What were you going to do with my daughter? Tell me the truth. Whatever it was, it's not going to happen. It's finished. I want to know. That's all."

"Nothing. My grand daughter is dying. Ariel was going to be her replacement."

"Graham. You're a fucking liar?" Alex looked at Laura. "Wake Mildred."

Laura shook her. She just rolled over. Laura held up a prescription bottle.
"I think she took sleeping pills."

Alex pulled the covers off Graham. He was skinny, with pasty skin and bony knees.

"No wonder Mildred took sleeping pills," Alex said, "Get up Graham, you're going to show us around the house."

"Let me get my robe."

"Uh, uh, your shorts are enough Graham. Come on."

"Laura, Stay with Mildred, please, in case she's faking it."

She nodded she would. They searched the upstairs which had no operating room. Downstairs was a no also. In the basement Alex found a steel door and a wall halfway
across the span of the room. He opened it. Inside was a laboratory and an operating room. Two operating tables were set up, side by side.

"Well, well." Alex grabbed Graham and pushed him against the wall, clutched his throat and said through clenched teeth, "What is that you lying mother fucker!"

"I wasn't going to hurt her!" He bleated. I was going to remove a kidney, that's all!"

"That's all?"

Alex dragged him to the operating table, and handed him a sponge. He took it with his right hand. Alex took the thumb of that hand, pressed it between his arm and body by his armpit and snapped it. Graham screamed, "AArrgggh!" Alex reached for a scalpel in a clear jar of alcohol held it tight, put it between the joint and held it there, tight.
Graham screamed and puked. His face was strained white, beads of sweat popping out all over it. He screamed again, "Aarrgghh!"

"Harry yelled, "Oh, shit! Oh Shit!"

Alex released Graham, tore the filter of a Winston, lit it and blew smoke into the air, looked at Harry and said, "Time to go."

He looked green.

"Harry, all I did was dislocate his thumb."

"Oh, I couldn't see."

"Neither could Graham."

"C'mon, Graham," I said. I wiped most of the puke off him. I went over to a sink and washed the puke off my hands, took a towel from a stack on a shelf, and cleaned Grahams puke as best as I could off of my clothes, went back to Graham and helped him off the table.

****************

Back in the bedroom, Laura looked at Graham and asked. "What happened to him?"
Graham was sitting on the bed holding his hand, rocking back and forth,

"He's OK. It's minor." Alex said calmly as he turned to him and asked, "Graham, where are the papers I gave you?"

He managed to say, "In Mildred's night table drawer. The one on the top."

Alex searched both. There was a shiny silver derringer in the bottom one, and an envelope with the papers. There was also a blank death certificate. Alex walked back to Graham and handed it to him, face toward him.

He looked at it and his eyes flickered in a flash of hate.

Alex dropped it on the bed and said to Laura, "take Ariel, the baby on the right in the yellow outfit. You two go. I'll meet you at the car in five minutes."

Alex watched her pick up the right baby. Harry took her arm, and they carefully walked downstairs.

"What's the story Graham. The real story?"

He didn't say anything for a full minute, then tears rolled down his face. He sniffled, blew his nose on the bed sheet and said, wearily "My daughter is in a mental institution in
Switzerland. She punctured her daughter's kidney with a knitting needle. We were trying to save my grand daughter with an infant's kidney, and by doing that, perhaps my daughter could regain her sanity."

"And?"

"You were our last hope. If we revealed what we were doing, you never would have allowed us to take Ariel. Alex, I don't really think I would have gone through with it. I don't think my morality would have allowed it. I am not a terrible man. I'm kind of glad you did what you did down there in the basement. dislocating my thumb. Being a surgeon has been a curse for me. I never wanted that. My father wanted it. I wanted to be a
mathematician."

"Well, Graham, now you can invent a better bomb." His eyes flared again.

"I don't believe you Graham. I believe you would have took her kidney, or both of them, cut her up and put her pieces in the garbage disposal, as casually as you would carve a holiday roast. There is no remorse in your eyes. You are one of those people who have no conscience--a mutant. You have been bested by a dead man walking, Mr. Vanbuskirk. Think of that as you sit, waiting for another infant."

Alex walked away, went back to the street, got in the van and held Ariel.

"What did you do back there?" Harry asked.

Alex told them what Graham said and that he didn't believe him. On the way back he asked, "Which one of you can take Ariel?"

"I have no one I can trust but you two. The Vanbuskirks's are not going to say anything to the authorities about what happened, and I doubt if he'll even tell Mildred the truth.
Please answer me. I have enough money so she won't be a burden."

"Jeez Alex, I don't care about the money and she's a beautiful baby, but I don't know anything about caring for a baby."

"I don't either, Laura," I said, but we can learn."

"We?" Harry said.

"Sure. I can't do it alone. You know Harry, I think you're kind of cute, and I also think you need a level headed woman to straighten you out and settle you down."

"Are you proposing to me? You don't even know me. And I don't know much about you."

"You know what you read in the magazines, and I'm not saying we should rush into anything, but we could take care of Ariel together, in shifts at first, or hell, you could move in to my place. It has three bedrooms. And I think we could work this out. And if we get to like each other and the sex is good that, clinches it. Don't you think?"

Alex felt felt Harry blush. Silver Dollar Harry getting proposed to by a black belt karate champion.

"Hell, I must think about this. I need a little time."

"Well, we got a whole hour and a half before we get back."

"Well, being over the Post Office Cafe in a shitty apartment isn't so great. And since you have three bedrooms, I guess we can start with that. But I'm not making any promises."

"Good enough for me, Harry. Alex, you have a deal."

"Now, where are we spending the night," Laura asked. "I mean, all of us, and I want to know what happened when you two left me alone with Mildred, and I also don't think Alex should go back to his apartment. You cannot know what those Vanburskirks are still capable of."

Harry said, "Alex and I can go back to the Post Office, upstairs to my place, but it's really for one person or fewer."

Laura laughed, "Fewer? Your apartment is big enough for one or fewer persons?"
They all laughed at that, and Harry asked, "Did I really say that?"

"Yes," Laura said, so it must be really small."

Alex said , "Take me to my place and I'll pick up a change of clothes and some other things, just a bag full. Oh and my car."

"OK," Harry said, "first we'll go back to Post Office and I'll get some things, and then we can go to your place, you get yours, and then we'll all go to Laura's for the night. That's what you intended, right Laura."

"Yes I did. I told you I have three bedrooms."

"Alex said, "well that's settled. I really didn't know what I was going to do , but I certainly wasn't going back to my place to spend any more time than to pick up a change of clothes. The Vanbuskirks took all of Ariel's things. Beat that. He even made four trips up and down the stairs to take everything of hers, and then they were going to at the very
least, steal a kidney from her."

"The guy has brass knockers." Harry said.

"Now, Harry, you don't really know if he has any at all, but he does have a diabolical way of getting what he wants."

After the Post Office, at Alex's apartment the superintendent walked in through the open door, "Mr. Sinclair. A letter was delivered by messenger an hour ago." Alex came out of the bedroom and took it. There was a return address on it. It was from France. He opened it, read it, sat down, read it again, and rushed downstairs. "Sorry, a change of plans. Drive
me to the Airport."

"What?" Harry Asked.

"I My father must have met someone in France. The letter is to me, because they think I am my father with a changed name. They went by my picture, have a Kind of daughter in France. I want to see her before I die. A letter was delivered an hour ago, and in it a man named Pierre wrote me, my girl grew up and wished to see me. They saw my picture in the newspaper when Jenny Died. They have been searching for me ever since. I still want you to take care of Ariel. If the family checks out, then I think she should stay with relatives. How quick can I get a Visa?"

No one knew. They went back to Laura's apartment, and she looked up United Airlines and called inquiring about a flight to France. A visa was not needed. It was waived for tourists. Alex was ecstatic. He looked healthier than he had in weeks. He felt exuberant. The next day Alex was on a flight to Alsace, France. He called the number in the letter and was given directions to the farm. When he got there, there was excitement, confusion, and different versions of what happened many years ago. Alex was forty six. His William Sinclair had to be seventeen.

She said "Come with me. I want to show you something." She took him into the farm house, into a bedroom with a settee, sat him down and took out a huge stack of photographs from school yearbooks from all over Germany, France and England.
"Your Father was from Germany, a linguist, speaking five languages. She then took an envelope out with photographs. There it was, the spit of Alex. Under the photo was "Esau Lipvak," Germany. Another photograph was her spit, a dead ringer of her school photograph taken in Germany as a young girl. The name under it was Sharon Fienstein Old Pierre, Pierre's father told me the truth one day when the money stopped. He said my father and mother were dead, shot by German soldiers, who He killed, and saved me."

Another woman entered the room, elegant, self assured with delicate features. She introduced herself as Dr. Anna Septimus. "I am a Neurosurgeon and looking at you, you have something terribly wrong with you. What is it?"

"How could you tell that?"

"By your complexion, your eyes, the way you speak, so tell me."

Bluntly, Alex answered, "Cancer of the brain."

"Who told you that?"

"A doctor in New York, on Long Island."

Was he a specialist.?

"I don't think so, I went to him for a Nicotine patch."

"I would like to examine you."

Why, I already have been diagnosed."

"How long are you supposed to have what he said you have."

"Long enough to be certified."

"I don't think so. I believe it is something else. Listen, I am a good friend of the family. I used to baby sit for Sharon I love her as I would my own daughter. Let me continue. I think you have something else. There are organisms, and parasites that can enter your ear and then grow, punch through to your brain and do havoc. I want to run some tests tomorrow." She gave me her card. "Be there tomorrow at twelve noon. There are other things that can cause what you have too. American doctors are too quick to diagnose, a lazy tunnel vision. Some took the Hippocratic oath with their fingers crossed."

She was too intense for Alex to comment. She glanced at her watch. "I must go. I have all afternoon tomorrow, so please come. I'll be waiting. Arivederci`."

Alex couldn't get a good night's sleep. He kept entering alpha, then waking up. To know he was dying, and finding peace in that, and then have someone give him an armful of hope would be devastating. Just go with the flow, he thought. She is speculating. But she is the best there is. She indicated that. No reason not to let her do what she does best. It will only cost an afternoon. What if she confirms the cancer? A second opinion is always good and if she finds its something else curable, then what? Then rush back and get Ariel. If she doesn't? Stay?

He woke up drained. Half a gallon of coffee and a half pack of harsh French cigarettes he got from the airport shop, pronounced galoshes, like the buckle up rubber over shoes his mother used to make him wear in the rain.

Alex showed up on time. The clinic seemed it was more than a clinic. It had more wings than a flock of migrating birds sprawling out into a valley in the mountains.

Anna met him, directed him to admitting, where he signed forms which too a half hour, and another half hour to explain them to him afterwards, and then he was prepped for the operation. The next day She walked in wearing a green grown. "Do you trust me, Alex?
Really trust me?"

"I guess I do."

"That will not do. I must hear you say and mean you absolutely trust me before I invade your body with my instruments. Your life depends on it. If you go under with any doubt, you could die, even if the procedure is successful. Do you understand that?"

Alex looked into her eyes. They locked for a full minute. his whole attitude changed in that time. He fixed his mind on Ariel, transferred the love to Anna and said firmly, "I do, Anna, I
trust you absolutely."

****************

Three weeks later Alex was walking around the grounds. Anna came each day and walked with him. He told her about Jenny, how she died, to finding and giving away Ariel. After a week, Alex believed he was in love. He knew it was a common thing for patients to fall in love with their doctors and at the end of the third week he told her exactly that.

"So, you understand that. Excellent, Alex." She looked into his eyes and said, "men are such little boys inside. They keep falling in love--with their mothers, aunts, teachers, nurses, doctors, and when the personal contact is over, it is a remembered fancy. A warm remembrance." They were sitting on a bench on the grounds. Anna got up, she held her hand out to him as if to help, and as he reached for it, she held out her other one. Alex got up, pushed her hands behind her, bringing himself up against her. Instead of resisting, which he risked her doing, she pressed back, bringing her lips to his mouth.
They kissed, hungrily, pulled apart, and Anna said, "Doctors feel that way about patients, sometimes. With you it was easy, Alex. Now I must go, and so do you. I hope we will remain friends."

Alex was tongue tied. He didn't know what to say. They walked silently back to the clinic. She went to her office waving a bright good-by and he went to the office to settle his bill.

"Mr. Sinclair. Your bill is paid. You are free to go."

"Who paid it?"

"I don't know sir. It just shows paid in full."

"Thank you." He walked out of the clinic, and went directly to the airport, got a stand-by flight, and bought some gifts for Laura, Harry, and Ariel. He was going home.


Website ｩ Copyright 2010 Zoetrope.com

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.12.2010

Alle Rechte vorbehalten