not to panic, not to leave their babies in a Dumpster or a toilet, as too many others had, but to bring them to one of the listed safe houses. In an even, nonjudgmental tone, it assured mothers that everything would be taken care of and that after sixty days, if they did not return for the child, all parental rights would be waived and the baby would be put up for adoption and placed in a loving home.
“I never heard him talk about the Safe Haven Law.”
“It was controversial,” my father said, sitting down again. He looked tired. “Detractors felt that it encouraged young girls to give up their child. Girls, I suppose, who might otherwise have kept their babies. But supporters, like Max and myself, believed that if a mother has an impulse to give up her child, for whatever reason, then that child is better off in a place where he or she can get the love and care needed. And if a frightened, desperate person has a safe alternative to murdering her child, she just might take it. The law passed back in 2000. Now the organization operates as a help line and a public relations office.”
Now that he mentioned it, I’d seen the ad campaigns all over trains and on the sides of buses, and had even heard a couple of public service announcements. A deep, mellow voice would intone over the sound of a crying baby: “Stressed out? Can’t handle the pressures of parenting? Before you take it out on your kids, call us. We can help.” I just never had any idea that it was something my father and Uncle Max had been involved with. It seemed strange to me that I didn’t know about it. My dad and I were close and we talked about his work often.
“Why haven’t you ever mentioned this to me?” I asked.
“Haven’t I? I’m sure that’s not true. Maybe you just don’t listen to your old father when he tells you things.” He tried a smile but it died on his face when I didn’t return it. We were silent for a second. I stared at the pamphlet, wondering if this is what Ace meant.
“Your uncle Max’s childhood is not a secret to you. He was abused on a level I have rarely seen in my experience as a physician—and that’s saying something. Instead of using that as an excuse to throw away his life, he burned it like fuel to drive himself to success. And he used that success to make a difference in the lives of abused children like himself—and battered women like his mother.”
I’d heard this speech before. I wasn’t sure why I was hearing it again. But I let him go on.
“Getting this law passed was especially important to him,” he went on, “because he believed it got babies that were at high risk for abuse or neglect into the arms of people desperate for a child before any real harm could be done. As opposed to after the fact, like so many kids. It was important to him because there were things your uncle Max never got over. Not until the day he died.”
I thought about Max, about that sadness deep inside him that nothing seemed ever to reach, even in our happiest moments together.
“Is that what you wanted to know, Ridley?” asked my father.
I shrugged. I didn’t know.
“Trust me, kid, there are no dark secrets here for you to uncover. He loved you. More than you know.”
I heard something in his voice, but when I looked into his face, I saw only the sweet smile I’d always counted on seeing.
“He loved Ace, too,” I said, feeling bad for my brother, wondering why he’d always felt left out.
“Naturally,” my father said with a nod. “But you two had a special connection. Maybe Ace sensed that and was envious.” He drifted for a second, looked out the window, exhaled sharply through pursed lips. When he spoke again, it seemed more like he was talking to himself. “I don’t know. Neither of you ever lacked for love or attention. There was always enough. Enough of everything for both of you.”
I nodded. “I know there was, Dad.”
“But of course, there’s the matter of the money. He may be carrying some bitterness about that, too.”
“The money?”
“Yes. The money Max left you when he died.”
“What about it?”
“Well,” he said with a sigh. “He didn’t exactly do the same for Ace.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.” I had always assumed that Ace was left an equal amount of money, though I guess I never really considered the logistics of it all. Ace disappeared for a long while around the same time I’d met with Max’s lawyer to discuss the terms of my inheritance; I assumed Ace had done the same at some point. We never discussed Max’s death or his money, or where he’d been during the months I hadn’t talked to him. In fact, we didn’t really talk about much except for Ace and his catalog of complaints and perceived injustices. Pretty sad, I know.
“Your trust was unconditional,” my dad said. “The money was granted to you upon Max’s death. Ace’s trust was conditional upon his successful completion of a drug rehabilitation course and five years of clean living. He might be angry about that still.”
I couldn’t really blame Max. It was a reasonable condition and one obviously designed in Ace’s best interests.
“What does that have to do with me?”
He shrugged. “Angry, jealous people do hateful things.”
“Are you saying you think Ace has something to do with all this?”
“I’m saying it’s not outside the realm of possibility.”
“No,” I said firmly.
My father gave me the look you would give a kid who still believed in Santa Claus: sadly indulgent.
“No way.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “Food for thought?”
I nodded quickly.
“I have to go,” I said, rising. He looked like he wanted to stop me. I saw his arms rise from his sides and then drop again, as if he wanted to reach out for me but changed his mind.
“Call me tonight,” he said, “if you want to talk about this more.”
“Is there more to talk about?” I asked, looking at him.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “You tell me.”
I embraced him quickly, not wanting to feel that pull to safety and comfort. Something about it drew me away from myself. I exited the room, leaving more confused than when I arrived. My father’s answers led to only more questions. I walked out of the building into the winterlike afternoon.
“Ridley, wait.”
I turned to see Zack standing outside the clinic doors. “Wait,” he said again. “Can we talk?”
I looked at him and shook my head. The sight of him made my heart thrum with anger; the thought that he had betrayed so many confidences to my father, the mess in my apartment that morning…I couldn’t deal with him.
“Please, Rid,” he said, moving toward me. Through the doors behind him, I saw his mother, Esme, in scrubs with a little bear print on the top. She was a petite woman with a pink complexion, her golden blond hair shaped in a stylish bob. She clutched a file to her chest and cast a worried glance in our direction, then disappeared through another doorway, tossing a sad smile my way.
I didn’t say anything to Zack when he stood near me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About this morning. I was out of line, I know that.”
I nodded but couldn’t find my voice. His eyes were the palest blue; a light blond stubble shaded his strong jaw. His hand was on my arm. I remembered that not so long ago I thought I loved him. I felt the same pull to him that I’d felt to my father, as if in his arms, all would be well, life predictably safe and secure, and with him I would be cherished and loved. As long as I did what was expected of me, as long as I was the Ridley they wanted me to be.
“It’s okay,” I said. It wasn’t true. I just said it to make us both feel better. “I’ll see you later.”
I walked away from him without a word and he didn’t call me back again. The sliver of sky between the buildings was the same hard slate as the concrete around me. The traffic sang, a cacophony of horns and rumbling engines. I felt loneliness creep into my skin with the cold air that blew in through the cuffs of my coat and made a home in my belly.
