Baby Gone Bye Page 4

  Abby said, “Well, since she’s your baby, you should carry her. I’ll be the pack mule.” When Gabe popped the trunk and she saw the ball bag, Abby snickered. “This is your diaper bag?”

  Gabe grinned. “Whatever works.”

  Gabe was the first to arrive at the school district’s nursery. He’d planned it that way once he found out Mrs. Wachsmith always came to work early. Less embarrassment involved. At least, that’s what he’d thought.

  Carrying Birdie in her car seat, Gabe took a quick look around before he approached the long, low building. Other than a few sleepy-looking sophomores, the coast was clear. Abby, a huge book bag on her back, trudged behind him, lugging the unwieldy ball bag. When Gabe tried the door, it was locked tight. He stepped to the window and peered in. A tall, spare woman with steel gray hair was sitting at a desk, totally absorbed in a paperback. Gabe rapped his knuckles against the glass, lifted Birdie up to the window, and then flashed his most charming smile.

  The woman frowned and closed her book. Gabe stepped to the door, gulping nervously. The door opened a crack, and the woman peered out. “Can I help you?”

  Geez, this was like getting into a secret government building, Gabe thought. “Are you Mrs. Wachsmith?” After the woman gave him a brief nod, he continued, “I’m Gabe Delgado. I think my dad called you about my, er, situation. Like, well, you see, this is my kid and I want to leave her here.” Despite the coolness of the morning, Gabe felt sweat popping out on his forehead.

  Lips compressed into a narrow white line, the woman’s eyes rolled upward as she thought it over. Abby dropped the ball bag with a thunk. “Heavy,” she muttered.

  Mrs. Wachsmith’s gaze darted to Abby and she gasped. “Abby, what are you doing here?”

  Gabe said quickly, “Oh, she’s not the mother or anything like that.” He turned away from the woman and whispered to Abby, “What’s the deal? How come she knows you?”

  Abby grinned. “I work in here fourth period. It’s my elective class.”

  Miffed, Gabe said, “You might have mentioned that earlier.”

  Reluctantly, the woman opened the door wide enough for them to enter and then locked it behind them. “I did speak with your father. You need to understand I have to be careful regarding who enters my facility. Custody issues, you know. Fathers snatching babies, etc. etc. Things like that. One can’t be too careful.”

  Gabe and Abby exchanged a look. Abby said, “But, there’s nobody here but us, and we’re leaving the baby, not taking her.”

  Mrs. Wachsmith looked down her long, long nose at Abby. “Still, one can’t be too careful.” She turned and marched to her desk. “Now, young man, since you’re the FOB, we have paper work to do. Pull up a chair.”

  “What do you mean I’m the SOB?” Gabe said, outraged. “I’m taking responsibility, aren’t I?”

  The corner of Mrs. Wachsmith’s mouth twitched. Was she fighting a smile? Gabe couldn’t tell. “FOB, not SOB,” she said. “FOB means ‘father of baby.’”

  “Oh.” Gabe set Birdie on the carpeted floor and pulled two chairs up to Mrs. Wachsmith’s desk. He nodded at Abby. “Abby’s my neighbor. She’s just helping me out this morning.”

  Abby handed Gabe the ball bag and turned toward the door. “I guess I’ll take off. See you later, Gabe.”

  Panicked, Gabe grabbed her arm a little harder than he intended. “You can’t go.”

  Abby jerked free and glared at him. Gabe felt a flush warm his cheeks. Geez, he sounded like a whiny little kid whose mom was about to leave him on the first day of school. He said, “I mean, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay . . . please?”

  Abby pushed up the sleeve of her hoodie and checked her watch. “Well, I guess I can hang around for a while.”

  The air whooshed out of Gabe’s lungs in a flood of relief. “Thanks, Abby. I appreciate it.”

  Abby avoided his eyes and settled herself gingerly on one of the chairs.

  “I assume you have all the necessary documents,” Mrs. Wachsmith said, fixing him with a cold stare. Somehow Gabe got the impression she was hoping he didn’t, so she could turn him away.

  “Sure do.” He handed the woman a copy of Birdie’s totally legit immunization record signed by Dr. Paul Delgado, as well as the totally fake birth certificate created by Simon at 11:30 p.m. the previous night. Mrs. Wachsmith examined the documents carefully. Gabe held his breath. She slipped the shot record into a manila folder, but frowned at the birth certificate as if something about it offended her.

  “Your child’s name is Roberta Maria Lorena Catalina Delgado?”

  Gabe nodded, cursing Papi under his breath. “We call her Birdie.” When Papi had insisted Birdie Delgado wasn’t an appropriate name for such a special child, Gabe had muttered, “You mean it’s not Mexican enough.”

  “Birdie,” Mrs. Wachsmith repeated, her lips pursed in disapproval.

  “Yeah, you see she makes this noise, it sounds like . . .”

  “Eeep!” Birdie chimed in right on cue. Gabe looked down at her and murmured, “That’s my girl.” When she caught sight of Gabe’s face, Birdie gave him a huge, gummy smile.

  Mrs. Wachsmith stood and peered down at the baby, her face softening a bit. “Now, that’s a baby.”

  Gabe bristled. He was familiar with that particular term. He knew people resorted to “Now, that’s a baby” when they couldn’t find anything nice to say. Hadn’t he used those very words when presented with a less than attractive baby? No way should such a comment be used to describe his daughter. He was beginning to dislike Mrs. Wachsmith intensely.

  Before he could open his mouth to protest, Abby gave him a warning look. She reached over and tickled Birdie’s tummy. “Yep, she’s special, all right. Aren’t you, cutie?”

  Birdie’s legs churned the air and she flapped her arms as if trying to live up to her name.

  Mrs. Wachsmith said, “Hmmm,” and continued to study the baby as if looking for a reason to deny her a coveted spot in the school nursery. “No bracelet, though. We don’t allow our babies to wear jewelry.”

  Gabe was ready for that one. Papi had prepped him. “It’s against our cultural beliefs to remove it.”

  Papi was right. Mrs. Wachsmith sighed. “In that case, it will be allowed.” She shuffled papers for a few seconds before turning her gaze on Gabe. “Everything seems to be in order. We’ve never had a FOB in the program, so you’ll be somewhat of a pioneer. You do realize you’ll have to change your class schedule, don’t you?”

  “But,” Gabe protested. “I need all my classes. I’m a senior this year and . . .”

  “Mr. Delgado.” The woman’s voice rang out. “Do you or do you not want your baby in this facility?”

  “Well, yeah. Of course I do.”

  “Therefore, you are required to sign up for the parenting class and, in addition, spend one hour a day here in the nursery. You probably already know, you must collect your child during your lunch period.”

  Oh great, another tidbit Abby had failed to share.

  Gabe’s head swam with confusion. He thought it would be so simple. Drop Birdie off in the morning, go to class, eat lunch with his friends, pick the kid up after school, and go home. He glanced over at Abby who smiled and shrugged.

  “So,” Mrs. Wachsmith continued, “you’ll want to see the counselor and get your classes changed.”

  She glanced at the clock, walked to the door and unlocked it. It swung open and Patti Sifuentes, the meanest girl at Maple Grove H.S., walked in, lugging a toddler and a diaper bag. When she spotted Birdie, her mouth dropped open. She dumped the kid and the bag on the floor, her squinty gaze darting back and forth between Gabe and Abby. “Whose kid?”

  Abby pointed at Gabe. “His.”

  At Gabe’s nod of agreement, Patti smirked and said, “Oh, this is too good to be true.
” Her son spotted Birdie and raced toward her, his sharp little teeth bared in a shark-like grin.

  Abby snatched the baby out of her car seat and hissed, “Watch it, he bites!”

  Oh my God, what a nightmare! Just when Gabe thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

  With a shout of laughter, Patti said, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I don’t believe it. There’s a new ho in Ho Hall.”

  Chapter Six

  GABE SAT OUTSIDE the office of Ray Edgerton, school counselor. Gabe was an unwilling witness to every single word the counselor shouted into the phone, even though the door was tightly closed. Gabe fidgeted in his chair. He did not have a good feeling about his impending meeting with the counselor. Mr. Edgerton had a ferocious eye twitch and his hearing was shot. He adamantly refused to wear a hearing aid, probably not the best decision for a man who was supposed to help sort out your problems.

  Therefore, you were likely to end up in the wrong class or risk him yelling something like, “You need to get out of class early to go to the restroom? What’s the matter with you, boy? Can’t you hold your water for sixty minutes?” when all you really wanted was to rearrange your schedule with an early release so you could go to your job in a restaurant.

  Consequently, Gabe knew every passerby would be getting an earful. While he waited, Gabe tried to think of everything that could be misunderstood, misconstrued, or turned upside down. FOB was certainly a strong contender as was baby left on front porch. Considering the object of his visit, he finally heaved a sigh and gave up. From any angle, this was the stuff of wonderfully juicy gossip.

  He thought about Birdie and wondered if she was as upset and confused as he was. After coming face to face with Patti and her snapping turtle of a son, Gabe was ready to bag the whole thing. He’d grabbed Birdie away from Abby, crammed all the stuff into the ball bag and muttered, “Thanks, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

  Abby had positioned herself between him and the door. “Geez, Gabe, chill. Those two won’t even be in the same area. Birdie will be in the baby room. Patti’s son is in the toddler room. Trust me, it will be fine.”

  But, it was Mrs. Wachsmith who’d convinced him. She strode across the room and held out her arms. “Mr. Delgado, give me the child. Safety is my number one priority. We’ll take good care of Birdie. You have my solemn promise.”

  Still, Gabe felt like he’d abandoned the little girl, although she’d seemed happy enough when he left. Now, if he could just get his schedule changed and resume some sort of normal routine. Why did everything have to be such a pain in the butt?

  Gabe heard Mr. Edgerton yell, “Yeah, no problem,” and the sound of a phone slammed into its cradle. He stood, ready to slip into the counselor’s office as quickly as possible. Too many people walking by. Too many curious stares. Too many whispers. The Maple Grove gossip hot line had been busy.

  The door flew open and Mr. Edgerton appeared, dressed in a navy golf shirt, khakis, and boat shoes. He stared at Gabe for a moment, obviously searching his memory banks for the correct identity before shouting in triumph, “Gabe Delgado!” as if announcing Gabe’s presence to the entire state of Washington.

  Gabe cringed and ducked into the cramped, windowless office.

  Mr. Edgerton sat on the corner of his desk. “What can I do for you, son?”

  “Well, um, I need to change my schedule.”

  “Now?” Mr. Edgerton roared. “Impossible. We’re well into the semester. What’s wrong with you, boy?” His left eye began to twitch ominously. If there was one thing the man hated, it was schedule changes in the middle of a term.

  Sweating bullets, Gabe explained his dilemma in hushed tones, which turned out to be a huge mistake. Mr. Edgerton kept saying, “Huh? Speak up, boy.” Finally, Gabe shouted, “I have a baby and I’m bringing her to school.”

  An epic silence followed while Mr. Edgerton processed the information. Before he could reach for a change-of-schedule form, a heavy fist banged against the door. Without waiting for permission, the door swung open and basketball coach, Ben “Boomer” Woodard, squeezed into the small space, closing the door behind him. With his spiky gelled hair, fitted leather jacket over a pale blue dress shirt, and pressed jeans, he looked like he’d just stepped out of GQ. In the three years he’d been at Maple Grove, Coach Woodard had transformed the basketball team from a pitiful bunch of losers to state title contenders.

  He leaned against the door, folded his arms and stared down at Gabe in disbelief. “Is it true? You have a kid and you’re bringing her to school?”

  Gabe knew Boomer well and recognized his I’m so disappointed in you look. Hadn’t he seen it last year when the team qualified for the state tournament and Gabe had gotten kicked off for drinking? Oh yeah, he owed Boomer.

  Gabe hung his head and murmured, “Sorry, Coach. My dad wants it this way.”

  Boomer reached over and placed his hands on Gabe’s shoulders. “Listen, kid, I’d be glad to talk to your dad. My wife and I know of a great adoption agency. They would place the kid with a wonderful family, and here’s the best part, you could stay in touch with her. She’d grow up knowing you’re her real dad. Think about it, Gabe. This little girl needs a mother. Hell, I’m preaching to the choir. You know what it’s like not having a mother.”

  A spark of hope ignited in Gabe’s heart. Could he have it both ways? A normal senior year and a child who would come to know her real father? Maybe when she was older, she’d realize he had her best interests at heart. But then, Gabe thought about Papi and his words, “She’s a Delgado.” No way would Papi agree to such a thing. And, truth be told, Gabe had come to think of the baby as Birdie Delgado, not Birdie Johnson or Birdie Smith, as she’d likely be called if he gave her up. The spark flickered and died.

  Gabe stood. “Sorry, Coach, I’m keeping her.”

  Something ugly flashed across Boomer Woodard’s face, but he recovered quickly. He punched Gabe’s shoulder. “That’s cool. Do what you have to do, Bro. Just make sure you get out for basketball.”

  Boomer called his players bro and dude, like he was one of their buddies, not their coach. Some of his teammates thought it was cool. Gabe thought it made Boomer look kinda desperate, but kept his opinion to himself.

  “For sure,” Gabe said. “I need to find a babysitter for after school. When I get that covered, I’ll be there.”

  Boomer said, “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Gabe assured him he would, collected his new schedule, and headed for his first period class. He stepped into the courtyard with his head down, sidestepping groups of students killing time until thirty seconds before the bell rang. Gabe wanted to avoid the stampede, so he trudged doggedly toward B building and his first class, College Prep English.

  A shoulder rammed into his and he heard the voice of Kevin McFadden, his friend since kindergarten. “Seriously, dude?”

  Gabe glanced over at Kevin who was fighting a smile. Geez, what the hell was funny?

  “Seriously,” Gabe snarled. “You think this is a joke?”

  Kevin’s smile vanished, replaced by a look Gabe had seen many times. Kevin’s sincere but totally fake expression of sympathy. “Course not, man. I mean, having a kid, that’s heavy stuff.”

  “Yeah, heavy,” Gabe repeated. He knew what was coming next and it didn’t take long.

  After turning to check out the backsides of a group of sophomore girls going in the opposite direction, Kevin asked, “So, who’s the chick? And why did she dump the kid on you?”

  Gabe shrugged. “It’s complicated. I can’t talk about it right now. You know, legal issues and all.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Kevin flashed his hurt-feelings face, the one he used with great success at parties. The recipient—almost always of the female persuasion—would get all flustered, hold out her arms, and say, “I’m sorry, Kev.�
�� As a result, Kevin would be wrapped around some hot chick, patting her fanny and winking at Gabe over her shoulder. Gabe used to think Kevin and his fake emotions were hilarious. Now, they just seemed, well, fake.

  After the past few days, Gabe trusted very few people outside the immediate family. But he knew if he made a huge issue about Birdie’s missing mother, it would only make the whole story more fascinating.

  He forced a smile. “Hey, it’s not that interesting, okay? When I get stuff worked out, you’ll be the first to know.” Yeah, right.

  Kevin opened the door to B building and let Gabe step ahead of him. “So, I’ll see you in weight training later on.”

  Gabe averted his gaze. “I had to drop that class.”

  “Seriously? Why?”

  “Gotta work in the child care lab,” he mumbled, striding away from Kevin.

  “Say what?” Kevin yelled after him. “Ho Hall? You have to work in Ho Hall?”

  A cluster of girls waiting outside a classroom shrieked with laughter. Gabe stepped around them, ignoring their sudden interest. Gabe gritted his teeth and thought, Thanks a lot, Kevin. This is what I get from one of my oldest friends?

  Thankfully, everyone in his first period class was too sleepy to pay attention to Maple Grove H.S.’s newest father. Gabe slumped down in his chair and scribbled notes while his teacher read aloud from the poetry of William Blake.

  His second class of the day, Parenting, was a different story. At the start of the school year, Gabe had signed up for two electives, since he’d completed most of his graduation requirements. Boomer, who taught Washington State History to freshmen, asked him to be his teaching assistant, a breeze of a class with no homework. Each day, Boomer gave his students a worksheet to keep them busy, while he and Gabe talked basketball for the hour. Now that he had a kid to bring to school, no more T.A. No more Weight Training.

  Wallowing in self-pity, Gabe charged across the courtyard, trying not to notice the curious stares and whispered conversations behind uplifted hands. His plan was: Check on Birdie, then attempt to maintain a low profile while skulking into Parenting class.