The Family: Ties That Bind (VOL. 2)

Chapter 10

Up the stairs we went, Loretta with the baby in the crook of her arm and me tagging along like a third wheel. She pushed the door to her bedroom open with her hip and strolled inside. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I noticed a faded and rusty tin sitting open on the surface of Loretta's vanity table. Sewing supplies filled the round canister and overflowed onto the tabletop: spools of colorful thread, a pincushion stuck full of silver needles, and a pair of antique silver shears. I didn't need to wonder what it was all for. Her new sewing project was draped over the simple wooden chair in front of her vanity. The shredded, blood-stained wedding gown I had worn the day before hung across the back of the chair, taunting me. The amount of crimson overtaking the former creamy yellowed fabric shook me to my core and hammered at the mental wall I was building to shield myself from the memory of that day. The event put into perspective just how ruthless these people could be and the lengths they would go to in order to inflict torment on someone...on me. 

She laid the infant down on the patchwork quilt, nestling it amongst the squares of mismatched floral and plaid prints making up the blanket draped over her bed. The baby let out a series of grunts and squeaks as it jerked its arms and lets sporadically, probably still getting used to the freedom to stretch out instead of being cramped in the womb.

"Aintchu jus' the cutest thang," Loretta cooed as she doted over the wiggling infant, her voice high pitched as she imitated baby-talk. "Sweet as sugar! Always knew I'd be a grandma one day, jus' didn't expect it to happen so soon! I mean, you and Bubba only been married a day."

I took a seat on the edge of the bed, my back turned to Loretta and the gurgling child. My fingers gripped the rounded wood knob on the footboard of her bed, winding around the post and digging my nails into the cherry wood.

How could she call that child her grandbaby? How could she be so content with the fact her psycho son probably killed its mother? That baby belongs with its actual family, not here. She had to know deep down that this was all wrong; not just keeping a stolen child, but also what she's allowed her own children to do to innocent people like the baby's mother and Matt. 

Loretta unbuttoned the baby's onesie with her nimble fingers; though they were worn from her countless years of housework, her hands were also tender and soft just as a mother's should be. A smile spread across her cheeks as the baby raised its short arms over up by its head and yawned, her tender touch a soothing comfort to the infant.

"Let's see whatchu got in that diaper of yers." She lifted the waistband of the child's white Huggies diaper and took a quick peek inside, "Gosh darn it, another boy! Looks like we still outnumbered, Tilly."

My eyes were glued to my bare feet still marred with dirt from yesterday's failed escape. "That's too bad..."

 "C'mere darlin, let grandma hold ya for a bit." She scooped the baby up and rested his head against her shoulder, patting his bottom as she bounced her body to soothe him to sleep. "We gotta choose a name for ya now. I'm thinkin' Andrew or Gunnar– family names!  Whattaya think, Tilly?"

"They're both nice names..."

"Mhm, 'course we gotta git Bubba's opinion when he gets back considerin' he's tha lil darlin's Pa now."

"Oh yes, of course," I clenched the fabric of my skirt till my knuckles turned white. "It's only right he has a say so." 

It took everything in me not to scream. Holding back the venomous words threatening to slip from the tip of my tongue was no easy task. Bubba was a child himself–well, in his mind at least–there's no way he could take on the responsibility of raising a kid. I wasn't even ready to raise a kid! Loretta had to realize that. Even the way he acted when his brother brought the baby here, the hands-off attitude, proved he was hesitant to have anything to do with the poor thing. I can't say I blame him though. From what I'd seen during my time there, it seemed he'd always been the baby of the family and had never had to deal with another taking that spot from him. That's not to say I thought he was jealous or ever would be, but I believe it was all so new and different from what he was used to.  

"Yer gon' need a diaper change 'fore long, ain'tcha?" Loretta asked the child as she nestled him into the blankets on the bed. "Think I got some ole' rags and safety pins 'round the house someplace." She strolled to the door and paused there to make one last remark. "Now I'll be right back, littlin, you be good fer ya Momma while grandma's gone."

I waited for her to leave the room and close the door behind herself before I finally gave up and surrendered to the storm brewing inside myself. The dam of emotions I'd been holding back burst and out came every ounce of panic I'd been holding in along with a torrent of tears. We must've looked awfully similar in that moment, the child and I, both with snotty noses and red faces. Tension like a rubber band stretched to the verge of snapping set into my shoulders and rose up my neck like invisible hands squeezing off my airway. I couldn't breathe. Like a fish out of water, I gasped for oxygen to fill my lungs with, but my ribs felt like they were bound with ropes. Before I knew it, I was kneeling on the hardwood and bawling into the edge of the mattress to muffle the cries I couldn't stop from escaping. 

Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? What did that baby ever do to deserve this? Playing house with Bubba and being his little "wife" was one thing, I had given up resisting that, but raising a kidnapped baby with him in this looney bin is a whole other story! 

My mood must've rubbed off on the male child. The harder I cried the louder he wailed. How on earth can something so small scream so loudly?! It was like a horror movie cranked max volume for an audience of deaf people.

"Shh!" I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand and sucked up the last of my sobs. "Hush, little one, before you get us both in trouble."

I stood and stared down at the nameless baby boy's balled up red face with his toothless mouth open wide and wailing. I stoked his forehead with my thumb, my touch feathery and light in fear of breaking such a fragile doll. He's so small. Pitiful. Helpless. The silence I craved was marred by his fractious cries and my sniveling.  

I picked him up, making sure to support his head, and laid him against my bosom. "It's okay," I whispered as I rocked the baby back and forth, trying my best to soothe him before Loretta stormed up here and chewed me out. 

An old tune once sung to me in my youth came to mind, taking me back to one of my oldest memories of staring up at my mother bathed in the blue glow of the nightlight beside my bed. The soft melody of the siren's song from the film O Brother, Where art thou rolled off her tongue like silk. I must've been a toddler at that time, just a few years old, yet I remember the scene as vividly as if it were yesterday. I wondered if she was proud of me, proud I was stepping into the role of this child's caretaker even though I didn't want to.

I was unsure of the lyrics after all these years, it had been quite a while since I'd watched that movie, so I hummed the tune instead. The song along with a few gentle pats on the child's back while I rocked him seemed to work miracles. The screaming soon died down and the wiggling ceased. Glassy black eyes stared up at me, fighting back the small lids that dared to close. 

Miniature fingers gripped my own and held fast. That was when the wall shielding my heart from the baby's own crumbled like sand. I knew at that moment even without uttering a word inwardly or from my own lips that I loved the sleeping child in my arms and would do everything in my power to protect him from the horrors of the macabre and evil world he had been plunged into. There was no way I could stand by and let him get turned into a pot roast or for his innocent mind to become poisoned with the vileness our captors would teach. No matter what, I would protect him. Even if it meant dying, I was willing to do whatever it took to preserve his innocence and keep him safe.