The Baby Room

Sam tightened his grip on the wheel through the dark and snowy roads to his house. Taylor sat across from him and looked over the rolling hills blanketed by snow. She seemed to be in a trance. He couldn't tell if she was lost in the view or somewhere deep in her own head. For now, he was just glad she hadn't seemed sketchy enough to jump from his moving car.

Riding in silence made Sam nervous. "Have you been a city girl your whole life?"

Taylor looked his way, while Sam gripped the wheel on the last icy bend toward home. "I took a few field trips when I was in school. Been to a pumpkin farm once. Must be fresh air out here."

"Airs not always fresh when manure gets spread to make crops grow. Wind blows just right; we duck for cover inside."

He caught a smile but couldn't get over how it betrayed her gaunt and sunken face, no doubt ravaged by drugs.

"Who's we?" she quizzed. "You haven't told me about your family. I just assumed you had a wife and kids. Don't tell me you're all alone. You're not related to Ted Bundy, are you?"

Sam's chest tightened. "I do. I mean I have a wife, no kids. She's...she's not going to be there. She's spending the night in the hospital." He worried about admitting she just had a miscarriage. How would she take it?

"Does she know I'm spending the night?"

"Too late to call her. Didn't exactly plan this out."

Taylor folded her arms. "What's wrong with her?"

Sam turned into the driveway, slicing through the snow. He turned off the car and cleared his throat. "She's going through a rough patch. She's spending the night in the hospital as a precaution."

"I get it. Some kind of breakdown. Sorry."

Sam sighed. "She had a miscarriage."

"You've been trying to have a baby? For how long? What else haven't you told me?"

It was getting cold in the car. Taylor hugged her shoulders. They're breathing fogged the windshield.

Anger surfaced in Sam's words. "It's been a long day. I held my dead infant son in my arms while my wife could not be consoled. I wanted to crawl into bed alone and pretend it was all a bad dream. I still want the world to go away. Then, I get an urgent text from the shelter. The surprising fury of the storm meant they had to turn people away."

Taylor looked riddled with guilt. "I'm sorry. I need help. I..."

Sam rubbed his hands together. "You're hungry. We're both tired. I know it sounds awkward, but I believe some things are not an accident, the timing and all. Let's go inside. There's a spare room. You are safe now, and tomorrow I will take you to the clinic."

Taylor pushed her way outside into the cold and snow, stumbling near the walkway. Sam slipped from the car and fell on ice hidden beneath the snow. Pain radiated from his twisted hip down his weak and trembling leg.

"What the heck!" Taylor cried. She fought her way around the front of the car. "Mr. Townes, you okay?"

"I'm okay." She helped him stand. He brushed the snow off and limped forward toward the front door.

Taylor watched him try to pull his uncooperative leg in front to get leverage. As he fumbled for the house keys in his coat pocket. "Seriously what's wrong? Was it an accident?"

"No. I had polio as a kid."

"Wait, I thought it was cured during the dark ages or something."

"It's unusual but happens."

"Let me help you. I may be pregnant, but my legs work."

Sam gave her the house key. She turned the key and the oak door creaked open. As she stepped inside, he leaned over and flicked on the hall light.

The light revealed a set of stairs in front. To the left was the kitchen. Taylor threw down her coat and kicked off her boots.

Taylor turned to Sam. "Seriously, you and the wife bought a two-story house in the country. You need one of those stair lifts."

"I get around. Kitchens on the left."

Taylor hurried into the kitchen. Before he could get there, he heard her rummaging in the fridge and opening cabinets.

Sam took his coat and hung it in the coat closet along with Taylor's. He sat on his bench and pulled off his rubber boots. By the time he was able to make it to the kitchen, she'd already had half a ham sandwich in her mouth.

He stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching her. "I see you found the cold cuts."

Taylor took a large bite. Then she tried to talk with a mouth full. "No dawg or cat neither?"

Sam shook his head. Taylor opened the fridge and drank milk from the glass bottle. It trickled down her mouth and over her chin. When she turned around, he couldn't help but stare at the tracks on the inside of her arms. It was a sure sign of heroin use.

Sam stood on the other side of the kitchen Island. "I need you to be honest with me. When's the last time you used drugs?"

Taylor swallowed and wiped mayo from her mouth. "How bout you go first with being honest? Why have you brought me here?"

"I'm trying to save you."

"Oh really? You're a savior? That's a jump from an assistant director. You sure you don't want my baby? Heck of a coincidence, losing a baby and finding me in one long day."

"You need to trust me. I could lose my position over this. You need to think about the baby."

Taylor grabbed the butcher knife from the block behind her on the counter. She flashed it in front of him. "I just bet you're thinking about my baby."

"What are you doing?" Sam reached for the knife. She backed away. "Put that down!"

Taylor pretended she would start an incision to her stomach. "How does it work? You lure me inside, then strap me down and cut the baby out?"

"Give me the knife!" Sam lunged for it, grabbing the knife and cutting his fingers.

Taylor's look changed. "I'm sorry." The knife clattered on the butcher block Island. She grabbed a hand towel from the stove door. "Keep pressure on it."

Tears formed in Sam's eyes. "I'm okay. He pulled away.

"Are you crying? I'm sorry."

"I care about you and the baby! Why is it so hard to trust me?"

"I know you don't think I care about the baby. I really do. I don't want to hurt my baby. I'm not a terrible person."

"I'm going to get you help. First thing, we both need rest, and I need to take you to the clinic where my friend, Dr. Reed works. He might be able to get you into a rehab hospital where you can be safe and warm."

She shuddered through the tears and spoke in a halting way. "I've tried. God knows. I've tried to be clean."

"Finish eating, and then I will show you to your room."

Sam climbed the stairs ahead of her. She came out from the kitchen and looked up at him.

Sam waved her on. "Let me show you to your room."

She took the stairs, clutching her stomach.

"Is it the baby?" He asked.

She looked as if she might lose what she ate.

Sam showed her the bathroom between her room and the master bedroom. He limped down the hall and pushed the door open to her room for the night. The moon was bright as a night light without a curtain on the window to the backyard.

Taylor's stiffened at the door. Folded her arms as if to keep her food down. She turned to him with a look of astonishment. "This is your baby room. You want me to sleep here?"

"Yes. This is a single bed against the window. We had that ready in case...well in case my wife wanted to be near our baby, if he was having a bad night."

Taylor looked the small room over, painted in blue with a toy chest and stuffed animals. There was even a carousel of the planets over the crib. She reached over pushed the button and watched the planets circle the sun, including earth.

Classical music played from the carousel. Tears pressed against Sam's eyes. The room was hard for him to look at after the latest and last miscarriage his wife endured.

Taylor looked at Sam in the half dark. "You sure about this?"

"The other spare room has been used for storage."

Taylor clutched her stomach. The bulbous shape of her stomach defied a bone thin appearance. This time when she put her hands on her stomach, she smiled. She glowed. "Come here Sam. The baby is moving."

Sam stood frozen in the doorway.
Taylor moved toward him. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "Feel that?"

Nervous sweat formed on his forehead. His heart raced. "I...ah yes. I can." Maybe the baby room would move her to take better care of the child, Sam hoped. She kept his hand on her stomach for a long moment.

Taylor let go of Sam's hand and hugged his neck. She whispered in his ear. "You must be an angel from heaven."

Sam backed down the hall toward his room.

Opening the door and using the moonlight, he focused on the portrait of his wife on the wall above the bed. His shoulders dipped. He shifted over to the bed, barely able to hold himself from falling. He plopped onto the bed, clothes and all. He moaned in pain from his bad leg. The room spun. He strained his neck and looked at the sliver of light in the hall. He'd forgotten to lock the door. But he was unable to fight to get up. His body went limp. He caved into sleep, as if falling into a dark well.