Magdalena's Shadow, page 6
The park was her daily destination. If Bebe toddled around the slides and chased after the ducks all morning, she was far less aggressive and overactive in the afternoon. Coco walked the last two blocks to Lincoln Park feeling the sharp Chicago breeze lift her long dark hair and play in the folds of her skirt.
The stroller handles felt warm and comforting in her hands. She pushed Bebe the last hundred yards to the park, counting each of the white stripes of the crosswalk as she left the last urban shadow to emerge into gloriously blinding sunshine. Coco made the trip five times with Tia before coming to the point where she could make the journey alone. With each venture out into the world she moved with more confidence and less fear.
Lincoln Park buzzed with children, parents, and nannies. Coco compared the happy noise to the remembered chatter of the housemaids who once worked at #2 so many years ago. Like the maids, the park people chattered and gossiped, laughed and argued, filling the world with life while Coco listened, quietly enjoying the friendly flow of conversation.
Most of the other women were older than her. Some were nannies who raised other people’s kids while others were mothers, aunties, and grandmothers. Many of these women had been lawyers, bankers, and journalists before they had refocused their lives around their families. They talked about everything from world events to local news and potty-training. Coco loved to listen to them talk; she listened to their conversations with rapt interest while she watched Bebe play in the sand and totter after the other kids.
Bebe walked well but she ran better. It sometimes seemed as if her large baby body gained coordination when she added speed. Coco never wore heels when she went out with Bebe; she had to be fast on her feet. When Bebe chased ducks, she did it with such gusto that falling into one of the Lincoln Park ponds was always a possibility.
The sun warmed them through the chilly breeze that blew off Lake Michigan. Coco unfastened the buckles on Bebe’s stroller and removed the climbing hook. In seconds Bebe rolled to her side, swung her legs over the stroller and landed on her feet running.
“Bebe,” Coco called, holding the child’s sunhat in her hand. But the girl was off, trotting at full speed around the play area looking for a child to chase.
“You have got to be fast to catch that one,” Deborah, one of the park moms, teased.
Coco pushed the sunhat back into a stroller compartment where it would probably stay. They stood chatting – or rather Deborah chatted and Coco listened, saying “really” and “you’re kidding” when conversation ebbed enough to allow her to speak. They were soon joined by Rachel and her daughter, Torrin.
Torrin, a quiet blonde haired girl with luminous blue eyes, wore glasses and talked about cats incessantly. She spent her days acting like a cat, her own stuffed kitty toy tucked lovingly under one arm. She was a gentle child who never screamed, hit, or bit.
Bebe spotted her in seconds, making a dash straight for her. “Play!” Bebe yelled as she sprang, knocking the quiet Torrin to the ground.
“No, Bebe.” Coco picked her sister off the frightened child who lay flat on her back.
Rachel lifted Torrin off the ground and hugged her.
“No pushing, Bebe,” Coco scolded, holding her sister’s hands in her own while she tried to get Bebe to make eye contact.
“Play!” Bebe spluttered.
“Say sorry.” Coco steered Bebe to stand before Torrin, whose crying intensified. Torrin shrank back as Bebe moved closer.
“Soss!” Bebe shouted before turning to run after something that had caught her eye.
Rachel’s face was red with irritation. Every day Bebe knocked someone down and it was usually Torrin.
“I’m so sorry,” Coco apologized. “I don’t know how to make her stop doing that.”
“Maybe you should lock her in her stroller the next time she tackles someone?” Deborah suggested not five minutes later when she lifted her own son, Carson, off the ground. Bebe’s second tackle of the day had taken place in the sandbox, effectively destroying the castle Carson had built. The boy spat sand from his mouth, his eyes leveled on Bebe with loathing.
Coco looked at Deborah with pleading eyes. “She’ll hate me.”
“That’s motherhood,” Deborah laughed, watching Carson run away from her, a glare of anger still marring his features.
Coco did her best to explain to Bebe that the next time she knocked someone down she was headed for the stroller. It took exactly six minutes for Bebe to spot an unfamiliar little black haired girl and flatten her like a pancake.
Sand clung to the girl’s face and chest. Huge tears ran down her cheeks. Coco grabbed Bebe up off the little girl’s back and carried her straight to the stroller. Bebe screamed like murder when she was buckled in, the climbing hook snapped over the otherwise useless shoulder straps. The little black haired girl lifted her arms into the air when her father came and picked her up; he dusted the sand from her face and clothes.
“Can I have a baby wipe?” The man carried his daughter toward Coco who glanced over her shoulder at the sobbing child, an apology already forming on her lips. A box of wipes sat open beside her, and as she passed him one she caught a glimpse of his face. Rob was every bit as gorgeous as Coco remembered. The moment she saw him she felt weak all over.
“Is this Mila?” Coco asked, her voice rising over Bebe’s irate screams.
Rob looked up quickly, his brow creased before he realized who she was. “Hi, Coco.” He looked suddenly surprised. “Yes, this is Mila.” Rob brushed sand from the corners of Mila’s eyes with the edge of the wipe.
Mila’s cries ebbed. Once the sand was out of her eyes she tottered back to the sandbox to play.
“I’m so sorry Mila was knocked down.” Coco glanced apologetically at Rob before refocusing on Bebe who was thrashing in her stroller screaming.
“Is that good for her?” Rob asked, looking at the struggling child with concern.
“I don’t know. Mila is the third child she knocked down today. I’ll let her go when she’s calm.”
Coco stroked Bebe’s hair. The child turned fierce dark eyes on Coco but stopped screaming. Soon she stopped struggling. “Good girl,” Coco whispered when Bebe quieted. The second Bebe became totally calm, Coco unsnapped the climbing hook. “No pushing, Bebe, or you go back in the stroller.”
A second later Bebe was off and running. Mila saw her coming but instead of running to hide behind her father as Torrin would have, Mila rounded on Bebe knocking her flat. Bebe hit the ground with a thud. The one-year-old regained her place in the sandbox, leaving Bebe on her back staring in shock at the cloudless blue sky.
“That’s a first,” Deborah laughed. Coco fought the urge to help her sister up. Rob started to move to correct Mila but stopped when Coco touched his arm.
“Do you mind if we let them work it out? Bebe needed that.” Together they watched Bebe roll onto her tummy and push herself to her feet. Rob shrugged before settling down on the bench next to Coco.
Standing in the middle of the playground, Bebe looked for Mila; when she found her she ran at her, stopping inches from where the girl sat. Bebe watched the baby as she dug with her hands, piling the sand onto her knees and feet. After a moment, Bebe sat down next to her and began digging.
Rob laughed, turning one of his brilliant smiles on Coco.
“They seem to have worked things out.”
Coco liked the way his black hair shone in the sunlight. He looked incredible in a tight, faded green T-shirt and shorts. He was every bit the Hollywood action hero she had first imagined.
“How long is Mila staying with you?” Coco lowered her Chanel sunglasses from the top of her head to hide the hunger in her eyes.
“Forever as far as I know; Chloe’s never tried to get custody.”
Why’s it so easy for some women to abandon their children? Coco wondered but said nothing.
She turned her attention back to where Mila and Bebe played. Bebe copied Mila action for action without noise, aggression, or any of her usual displays of erratic behavior. This moment marked the first time Bebe had ever played quietly with another child.
“They like each other.” Coco glanced at Rob who smiled his half smile. He leaned forward to watch his daughter giving Coco an opportunity to examine him without notice. She studied the line of his cheekbone, memorized the shape of his nose, and the hard, inflexible set of his mouth and jaw. He was probably a force in a courtroom, she thought, remembering that he had said he was a lawyer.
“Are you hanging around this summer?” Rob turned suddenly toward Coco, catching her eyes on him.
“What?”
“Do you leave Chicago in the summer?”
“No….” Confusion filled her. The idea had never occurred to her. Simply getting to the park each day was a miracle.
“I’m asking because I’ve taken some time off to be with Mila. I would like to take you out.”
The statement was so direct that Coco didn’t have a second to be surprised, pleased, or even shy. Instead she heard herself agree to see him. She turned her eyes away, afraid that he would see the worry behind the sunglasses.
The instant Coco looked away, she caught their images reflected in the glass wall of a nearby boutique. In the reflected vision, she looked like a twenty-three-year-old mother enjoying a day at the park with her husband.
The thought thrilled her, but the thrill was short-lived. Tia was right: she was a walking illusion, a lie of maturity that would hurt more than her. If Rob knew her age, if he knew her, he would be shocked and angry. Then that hard, implacable jaw and those steely dark eyes would turn against her, and she already suspected there was a side to his character that didn’t give second chances.
Chapter Eight
That day in the park changed Coco’s life. She felt herself altered by the moment, feeling the girl she had been disappear in the wake of the vision she had seen so clearly in the window of the boutique. More than anything in the world she wanted to be the woman on Robert Banks’ arm. She had attracted him as easily as a flower attracts a bee, yet when she pushed the stroller home that afternoon she felt afraid that he might see her for what she was the next time they met. No part of her wanted to lie to him – but if he wanted to take her out, then she would give him the woman he saw, not the girl she was.
Coco’s attempt at perfected maturity began at seven o’clock the following morning and increased in strength as the week progressed. Coco rose early each morning to bathe in scented oils, apply her makeup, and straighten her hair. She chose her clothing with care, preparing for chance encounters, unexpected conversation, and a time when the nagging ache that lived inside her chest would be replaced by the adoration of a man she already felt she loved. Bebe and parenthood were pushed to the side while Coco became obsessed with beauty, clothing, and the crush that consumed her.
“Good morning, Coco.”
Coco glanced up to see Tia enter the penthouse some four days after meeting Rob in Lincoln Park.
“Good morning, Tia,” she replied, annoyed.
“Do you need help?” Tia watched Coco tidy away baby things at a feverish pace.
“No, I’m just picking up. I thought I would ask our new neighbors over if they’re free. Rob’s daughter and Bebe are friends so I thought we could have a… you know… a playdate.”
“A playdate?” Tia asked, with more sarcasm than she had intended.
“Yes.” Coco turned on her housekeeper. “Yes, a playdate! Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No.” Tia looked surprised by how quickly Coco’s mood shifted. “I just think you should call a thing what it is.” Tia walked toward the kitchen to start breakfast.
“And what’s that?”
“A date. Whatever you’re calling it, don’t use Bebe as your excuse. I saw that look in your eye when you got home after seeing him. Your new neighbor has you all aglow. I’ve half a mind to walk over there and tell him your age myself.”
“You can’t do that. I told you we’re just friends.”
“I can do that and I will. You glow every time you see him. Look at you. You’re all dressed up for a playdate? You don’t wear a thousand dollars’ worth of designer clothes to play with toddlers, Coco.”
“Tia, I’m wearing what I have. I can’t help it if the clothes that come to the house are expensive.”
“Last week I couldn’t get you out of your stained T-shirt and jeans. Now look at you. You’re wearing heels at eight-thirty in the morning, and you have been restricting your food again.”
“I have not been restricting. I’m just not very hungry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Coco! How long has this relationship been going on? Have you been seeing him when I go home at night?”
“No, of course not. I’ve only seen him twice – four days ago in the park, and that first time when you found us here in the living room talking.”
“He’s too old for you and far too worldly. If you want a boyfriend you need to find a boy your own age, someone with your same level of experience. That man needs to know you’re still a child. I’ll tell him if you won’t.”
“Mrs. Brown, I’m warning you. Don’t tell him or I’ll replace you.”
The words flew out of Coco’s mouth like a hiss. Tia’s eyes flashed murder while Coco stood shocked to stillness by what she had said. Tia stared at Coco for a long moment; neither of them moved or spoke.
“Do you know what possession is?” Tia asked in a cold flat voice, her eyes focused on Coco. She watched Coco’s quick defiance turn to confused uncertainty.
“Is that a trick question?” Coco’s voice sounded weak and unsteady.
“It’s when an evil voice echoes from the mouth of innocence. It’s when a person is taken over by a thing wholly unnatural to them. Call it a demon, call it a drug, or in your case call it lust. Either way it’s bad. Never did I think I would hear those words from you, Coco Rodriguez. I told you once I never leave unless I’m told to go. Well I’m going now. I’ve no patience for vicious, lust-sick glamour queens!” Tia picked up her coat and her chrome wheeled basket and walked out of #2.
Coco watched Tia leave in silence. Her pride fastened her feet to the floor while her voice caught in her throat. Images of life without Tia flashed through her mind. I should stop her. I have to stop her. I have to apologize. The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and Tia disappeared.
“Oh, God!” Coco slid down the living room wall, feeling tears spill down her cheeks while the glamazon she had been died a quick death. The apartment began to sway and rock, taking all of Coco’s short-lived confidence with it. Who would sit and eat with her? Who would teach her how to cook? Who would make sure she didn’t skip meals? Who would teach her how to raise Bebe? Who would teach her how to live? The old panic found her, bringing with it the usual terrors: abandonment, loneliness, and need.
Coco sat crying against the wall when she heard Bebe’s low murmurs. If Coco didn’t move quickly Bebe would be over the top of her crib, risking a fall. Bebe had chewed a hole through the safety tent and there was no point in replacing the useless thing. On entering the room Coco found her sister crawling down the side of the crib with all the dexterity of a gibbon monkey scaling a tree. The girl was strong, quick, and nimble in a frightening way.
“Good morning, Bebe.” Coco watched Bebe drop to the floor and run past her. Coco followed her to the kitchen where the toddler stood in confusion.
“Tia!” Bebe called.
“No Tia, not today.” Coco opened the refrigerator to begin breakfast.
“Tia!” Bebe yelled again as if calling louder would make the old woman appear. A moment later she ran out of the room.
Coco started breakfast, but stopped suddenly when the front door opened and the sound of Bebe’s footfalls receded into the entryway. Coco’s heart caught in her throat. She ran through the living room, out the front door, and into the lobby only to see Bebe standing in the open elevator, her tiny hand smacking all the buttons at once.
“No, Bebe!” Coco ran forward to stop her, her elegant Chanel heels catching in the deep carpeting. Coco fell to the floor, the elevator dinged, the doors closed, and Bebe began her descent. Coco threw one heel at the elevator door while she kicked off the other and sprang to her feet.
The old-fashioned lights above the door lit up one by one marking Bebe’s stop on every descending floor.
“No!” Coco screamed, hitting the elevator button hard with her palm before running back to the old building phone on the entryway table. With Tia’s dramatic exit, she had forgotten to fasten the chain on the door, the one thing that kept Bebe in.
Benny the doorman answered, “Miss Rodriguez, how can I help you?”
“Bebe, my baby girl, just got in the elevator alone. Please catch her before she makes it out of the building! She pushed all the buttons.”
“Yes, Miss Rodriguez, we’ll recall the car and set security on the doors. There are cameras on all the floors but it’ll take time to review the footage. Try not to panic.”
Coco turned back toward the elevator. Number 26 glowed above the door, marking the floor where the elevator stopped next. Coco’s heart dropped when she realized that if Bebe had left the elevator she could be lost and wandering in any of the dozens of floors in the building. Frightened, she turned to #1 and pounded frantically at the door. It was opened by a middle-aged woman who had to be Mila’s nanny, Karen.
“Is Mr. Banks in? I need help. My toddler just went down the elevator alone. Can you wait here in case someone returns her? The elevator stopped on the twenty-six floor. I’m going to start looking there.”
Coco heard Rob’s voice echo from inside as she ran for the stairs. Hitching up her black pencil skirt, she ran barefoot, skipping several steps at a time.
One floor, then another and another passed until a large black 26 came into view. “Bebe!” Coco called when she pulled the door open and ran into an empty hall. “Bebe!” she hollered again before running down the hall to the end. The child was nowhere in sight. Coco turned to the phone by the elevator that would connect her with the lobby.
