Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris

CHAPTER NINE

CARRIE WALKED UP the stairs slowly, Abraham cradled in her arms.

The way that Dan had come over and kissed him had almost undone her. She was ready to fight with him, to argue with him over his unforgiving point of view.

But Daniel Cooper was a good guy—his most recent action only proved that. There was so much more to this than she could see. Maybe she’d been so wrapped up in her own grief and struggling with her own ability to cope with the situation that she’d totally missed something with Dan.

It just didn’t figure for a warm-hearted Everyman hero to have such black-and-white views. To be so blinkered. Maybe it was time for her to crawl out of the sandbox and get back in the playground—to start to consider those around her.

She reached Mrs Van Dyke’s door and gave a little knock. ‘Mrs Van Dyke? It’s Carrie from across the hall. May I come in?’

She heard the faint shout from the other side of the door, once again almost drowned out by the theme tune of Diagnosis Murder. She turned the handle and walked in, crossing the room and kneeling next to Mrs Van Dyke’s brown leather armchair.

She adjusted Abraham from her shoulder, laying him between her hands so Mrs Van Dyke could have a clear look at him. ‘Guess who I brought to visit,’ she said quietly.

Mrs Van Dyke reached out for the remote control and silenced the television. ‘Well, who do we have here?’ she asked, one frail finger reaching out and tracing down the side of Abraham’s cheek.

‘We call him Abraham. It’s been three days now and there’s still no sign of his mother.’

‘May I?’ Mrs Van Dyke held out her thin arms. For a second Carrie hesitated, instant protective waves flooding through her, wondering about the steadiness of Mrs Van Dyke’s hands. But she pushed the thoughts from her mind. This woman had held more babies, more little lives in her hands than Carrie probably would in this lifetime. She had a wealth of experience to which Carrie really needed even the tiniest exposure.

She placed Abraham in her shaky hands and watched as Mrs Van Dyke repositioned him on her lap, with her hand gently supporting his head as she leaned over and spoke to him quietly, all the while stroking one cheek with her bent finger.

It was magical. Even though Mrs Van Dyke was obviously feeling the effects of age, from her misshapen joints to her thin frame, a new life and sparkle seemed to come into her eyes when talking to Abraham. It was as if he released a little spark of life into her.

Carrie couldn’t hear what she was saying. It was as if she were having an entirely private conversation with him. His little blue eyes had opened and were watching her intensely. Could he even focus yet? Carrie wasn’t sure. But the conversation brought a smile to her face.

Abraham was wearing one of the beautiful hand-knitted blue cardigans that Mrs Van Dyke had given her, along with the white crocheted shawl. The recognition made Mrs Van Dyke smile all the more as she fingered the delicate wool. They still had hardly any clothes for him and without Mrs Van Dyke’s contribution Abraham would have spent most of the time wrapped in a towel.

* * *

Carrie settled onto the antique-style leather sofa. ‘Dan asked me to check if you needed anything. He’s hoping to give Mr Meltzer a ring and go along to the shop later. Can you give me a list of what you’re running short of?’

A smile danced across Mrs Van Dyke’s lips. ‘He’s such a good boy, my Daniel.’

She almost made it sound as if he were one of her own. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t come up himself.’

Carrie felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. ‘He’s really tired. Abraham kept him awake most of the night. I told him to get some sleep and I would come up and see you.’ It almost made them sound like some old married couple. She was hoping that would pass Mrs Van Dyke by.

But the old lady was far too wily for that. The smile remained on her lips and as she regarded Carrie carefully with her pale grey eyes it was almost as if she were sizing up her suitability. ‘I could do with some things,’ she said slowly.

‘No problem. What do you need?’

‘Some powdered milk—there won’t be any fresh milk left. And some chocolate biscuits and some tins of soup.’

‘What kind of soup do you like?’

Mrs Van Dyke smiled as she played with Abraham on her lap. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Daniel knows exactly what to get me.’ She eyed Carrie again. ‘Sometimes I wonder what I’d do without him.’

The words seemed to drip with loyalty and devotion to Daniel. These two had known each other for most of Daniel’s life. How much had they shared?

Carrie pushed the queries out of her head. She was fascinated by how content Abraham looked, how placid he was on Mrs Van Dyke’s lap, with her wholehearted attention. ‘You’re much better at this than me. Maybe you can give me some tips.’

Mrs Van Dyke raised her head. ‘Tips? Why would you need tips?’

‘Because I’m not very good at this. I think he’s feeding too quickly. He gets lots of wind and screams half the night.’ She pointed over at his little frame. ‘I’ve no idea what he weighs. So I don’t know if we’re giving him enough milk or not. This baby stuff is all so confusing.’

Mrs Van Dyke gave her a gentle smile as Abraham wrapped his tiny fingers around her gnarled one. ‘I’m sure you’re much better at this than you think you are. He’s around six pounds,’ she said.

‘How do you know that?’ Carrie asked in wonder.

Mrs Van Dyke smiled. ‘I just do. Years of experience. I think he might have been a few weeks early.’ She touched his face again. ‘But his jaundice will settle in a few days. Have you been putting him next to the window, letting the daylight get to him?’

Carrie nodded. ‘Dan has a friend who is a paediatrician at Angel’s Hospital. She told us what to do. I just wish we could actually get him there so he could be checked over.’

‘He doesn’t need to be checked. He’s fine. As for the wind—he’s a new baby. It will settle.’ She slid her hands under his arms and sat him upright. ‘It’s a big adjustment being out in the big bad world. A few days ago he was in a dark cocoon, being fed and looked after. Now he’s got to learn to do it for himself.’

Carrie felt a prickle of unease. ‘I wish Dan felt like that.’

Mrs Van Dyke’s eyes were on her in a flash. ‘Felt like what?’ There was the tiniest sharp edge to her voice. A protective element. Just like the way Carrie felt towards Abraham. It heightened Carrie’s awareness. Mrs Van Dyke had known Daniel since he was a child. What else did she know?

Carrie gave a sigh. ‘Dan doesn’t think that Abraham’s mother cared about him at all. He doesn’t think she looked after him. He thinks she might have been a drug user.’

She could see Mrs Van Dyke’s shoulders stiffen and straighten slightly. Maybe she was wrong to use the drug word around someone so elderly.

But Mrs Van Dyke just shook her head. ‘No.’ Her eyes were focused entirely on Abraham. ‘His mother wasn’t a drug user.’

Carrie leaned back against the leather sofa. Even though it looked ancient, it was firm and comfortable. Much more comfortable than Dan’s modern one. How many people had rested on this sofa over the years, laid their hands on the slightly worn armrests and heard the pearls of wisdom from Mrs Van Dyke?

‘Then what happened?’ She gave a sigh. ‘I just can’t get my head around it. I keep thinking of all the reasons in the world that would make you give up your baby, and none of them are good enough. None of them come even close. I keep thinking of alternatives—all reasons a mum could keep her baby. None of them lead to this.’

‘Not every woman will have the life that you’ve had, Carrie.’ The words were quiet, almost whispered and spoken with years of experience. The intensity of them brought an unexpected flood of tears to Carrie’s eyes.

Her voice wavered. ‘You say that as if I’ve lived a charmed life.’

‘Haven’t you?’

She shook her head firmly. ‘I don’t think so. Last year I lost my daughter. I had a stillbirth.’ She looked over at Abraham, her voice still wavering. ‘I came to New York to get away from babies—to get away from the memories.’

Mrs Van Dyke was silent for a few moments. Maybe Carrie had stunned her with her news, but, in truth, Mrs Van Dyke didn’t look as if anyone would have the capability of stunning her.

Her answer was measured. ‘It seems as if we’ve shared the heartache of the loss of a child. At least with Peter, I had a chance to get to know him a little. To get to share a little part of his life. I’m sorry you didn’t get that opportunity, Carrie.’

The sincerity in her words was clear. She meant every single one of them. And even though Carrie didn’t know her well, it gave her more comfort than she’d had in a long time. Maybe this was all on her. She’d kept so much bottled up inside for so long. She didn’t want to share. And now, in New York, the only two people she’d shared with had shown her sincerity and compassion—even though they were virtual strangers.

‘You had five children, didn’t you?’

Mrs Van Dyke nodded. ‘Peter was my youngest. David, Ronald, Anne and Lisbeth all have families of their own now.’

‘Are any of them still in New York?’

There was a sadness in Mrs Van Dyke’s eyes. ‘Sadly, no. David’s in Boston. Ronald’s in Washington. Lisbeth married a lovely Dutch man and is back in Holland. Anne found herself a cowboy and lives on a ranch in Texas. She spends most of her time trying to persuade me to go and live with her and her family.’ Mrs Van Dyke showed some pride in her eyes. ‘She has a beautiful home—a beautiful family. But I find Texas far too hot. I visit. Daniel takes me to the airport and I go and stay with Anne for part of the winter. But New York is home to me now. It always will be.’ She hesitated for a moment, before looking at Carrie with her pale grey eyes. ‘And Peter’s here, of course. I would never leave my son.’

It was as if a million tiny caterpillars decided to run over her skin. Tiny light pinpricks all over.

Ruby. Her tiny white remembrance plaque in a cemetery in London. She’d visited it the day she left and wondered if anyone would put flowers there while she was gone. The chances were unlikely. Most people had moved on.

Part of her felt sympathy for Mrs Van Dyke not wanting to leave her beloved son. Should she feel guilty for coming to New York? All she felt was sad. Ruby wasn’t there any more. Her talismans were in the box upstairs and in her heart—not on the little white plaque next to hundreds of others.

She was trying to put things into perspective. Her past situation and the current one. Trying to find a reason for Abraham’s mother’s behaviour.

Mrs Van Dyke’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘You have to remember, Carrie. Our children belong to God. We’re only given them on loan from heaven. Sometimes God calls them home sooner than we expected.’

The words of the wise. A woman who’d had years to get over the death of her young son, but it was clearly still as raw today as it had been at the time. But here she was, with the help of her faith, rationalising the world around her. Getting some comfort from it.

Carrie moved from the sofa and knelt on the ground next to Mrs Van Dyke’s armchair. ‘Then why would we waste any of that precious time? Why would we want to miss out on the first feed, the first smile? It’s all far too precious, far too fleeting to give it up so easily. I can’t believe that Abraham’s mother doesn’t care. I can’t believe she abandoned him without a second thought.’

‘It’s a sad world, Carrie. But sometimes we have to realise that not everyone has the same moral standing and beliefs that you and I have. Not everyone values babies and children the way that they should.’

It was a complete turnaround. The absolute opposite of what she’d expected Mrs Van Dyke to say. But as she watched the elderly face, she realised Mrs Van Dyke was lost—stuck in a memory someplace. She wasn’t talking about the here and now; she was remembering something from long ago.

It sent a horrible, uncomfortable feeling down her spine. She’d seen the awful newscasts about abused and battered children. She’d seen the adverts for foster carers for children whose parents didn’t want them any more. The last thing she wanted was for Abraham to end up in any of those categories. It was just unthinkable.

She was staring at him again. Transfixed by his beautiful skin and blinking blue eyes. ‘I just can’t think of him like that. I just have the oddest feeling—’ she put her hand on her heart ‘—right here, that I’m right about him. I can’t explain it, but I just think that Abraham’s mother didn’t abandon him because she didn’t love him. I think it’s just the opposite. She abandoned him because she did love him.’

Mrs Van Dyke sat back in her chair, cradling Abraham in her arms. Carrie was almost envious of her years of experience. The strength she had to draw on. It radiated from her. Being around Mrs Van Dyke was like being enveloped in some warm, knowledgeable blanket. She could only hope that one day she would be like that, too.

After a few moments she eventually spoke. ‘It seems to me like it’s time to ask some hard questions, Carrie.’

The words made her a little uncomfortable. Could Mrs Van Dyke read her thoughts? See all the things that were floating around her brain about Daniel? That would really make her cheeks flush, because some of those thoughts were X-rated.

But surely Mrs Van Dyke had no inkling that anything had happened between them. She hadn’t even seen them together. She couldn’t possibly know.

‘What kind of questions?’ she finally asked.

‘The kind of questions you’re skirting around about. Why exactly would a mother leave a baby on our doorstep? What reasons could she possibly have? And why this doorstep? Why not another?’

Carrie sat back in her chair. All the things that had been circling in her brain for the past few days. Even though they were in the background, she hadn’t really focused on them, or given them the attention they deserved. Looking after Abraham, and trying to decipher her emotions towards Daniel, had taken up all her time and energy.

It was time to sit back and take a deep breath. To look at things from a new angle, a new perspective.

‘I guess I need to take some time to think about this,’ she said quietly.

‘I guess you do.’

It was like being in the presence of an all-knowing seer. A person who knew what was happening but left you to find it out for yourself.

She stood up and walked over to pick up Abraham again. Just holding him close seemed to give her comfort. It was amazing how quickly she was becoming attached to this tiny person.

‘I’ll get Dan to bring your shopping up later.’

‘That’s perfect, Carrie.’ She gave a little nod of her head. ‘You’ve taken on a big job, and I commend you for it. But Abraham is someone else’s baby. It’s so easy to love them, and it’s so hard to let them go. You need to protect yourself. You need to look after your own heart.’

Carrie placed her hand across Abraham’s back. ‘I know that. I know that this won’t last. As soon as the snow clears, Abraham will go to Angel’s to be assessed. Social services already know about him. I’m sure they will already have somewhere for him to go.’

She nodded towards the television. The title for a new episode of Diagnosis Murder was just beginning to roll. ‘I’ll let you get back to your television.’ Had she really been up here for an hour? ‘Thank you for letting us visit, Mrs Van Dyke.’

‘No, thank you, Carrie. I hope I’ll be seeing you again soon.’

‘I hope so, too.’

She headed towards the door. Even before she opened it Abraham twitched in her arms as Mrs Van Dyke reached for the remote control and the sound boomed around the apartment again.

Carrie smiled as she closed the door behind her.

She lifted her head. It was as if her own doorway was beckoning from across the hall. She’d barely been in there for the past few days. Just twice for a shower, a change of clothes or to pick up some baking ingredients.

Last time she’d been in there Dan had kissed her.

After this morning that almost seemed like a lifetime ago.

She propped Abraham up on her shoulder. She knew exactly what she was going to do now. She wanted to leave Dan to sleep a little longer. Hopefully then he would be in the mood to talk.

In the meantime she and Abraham would have some quiet time together. It didn’t feel like a betrayal to have him in her arms any more. It just felt right. As if he belonged there.

But most importantly she had someone she wanted him to meet. Someone she wanted to talk to him about.

To let him know that there was room in her heart for everyone.

CHAPTER TEN

THREE HOURS LATER she was back downstairs. Abraham had slept for a few hours while she sat quietly and looked through the things in Ruby’s box.

It was the first time she’d ever managed to do it without breaking her heart. She was still sad, a few tears had still slid down her cheeks. But this time it hadn’t been so hard to put the things back in the box. It hadn’t felt as if her life was over. It hadn’t felt as if there was nothing to fight for any more.

And that wasn’t just because Abraham was in her arms. It was because she was beginning to feel different.

Daniel appeared in the doorway, his hair rumpled and sticking up in every direction but the right one. ‘Hey, how long did I sleep?’

She glanced at her watch. ‘We’ve been gone for four hours. We had to come back down because Abraham needed another bottle.’ She hesitated for a second. ‘We need some more supplies, and Mrs Van Dyke needs some things. How would you feel about leaving Abraham with her for a little while?’

He nodded and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. ‘I think that sounds like a plan.’

‘Are we almost out of nappies already?’

Dan looked over and nodded, staring into the bottom of the powdered-milk can. ‘We’re almost out of everything. I definitely need to buy some more coffee. It’s the only thing that keeps me awake. I’m usually never this tired.’

Carrie walked over to him, leaving Abraham to kick his legs freely on the towel for a few minutes. ‘You’re usually never looking after a baby. How do you do on night shifts?’

He gave her a rueful look. ‘The busy nights are fine. The quiet nights? I drink about six cups.’

‘Will Mr Meltzer have anything left?’

Dan shook his head. ‘No. We’ll need to go further afield. Do you have rain boots?’

‘Wellies? Sure I do.’

‘Then get them. Go and get changed and I’ll make a few calls to see where we can get some supplies. Are you okay walking a few blocks?’

‘Of course. Do you want me to take Abraham up to Mrs Van Dyke?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I’ll do it. You go and get changed.’

She should have known. Dan wanted to check on Mrs Van Dyke himself. He really was a good guy. So why was he so down on Abraham’s mother? It just didn’t fit with the rest of his demeanour.

Ten minutes later she was ready. Her pink wool coat, purple scarf and purple woolly hat pulled down over her ears. Her wellies firmly in place with her jeans tucked inside.

The nip of frost was still in the air as they stepped outside. Dan pushed a piece of paper into his pocket and held out his gloved hand towards her.

Carrie hesitated for just a second. There was nothing in this. He was being mannerly and making sure she didn’t fall over in the snow. This wasn’t about the kiss that they’d shared—not at all.

She put her hand in his. ‘How far do we need to go?’

The snow was deeper than she’d expected. Not quite deep enough to reach the tops of her wellies, but not too far off it. ‘A few blocks,’ he murmured.

It only took a few minutes for her to realise that trudging through the snow was harder work than she first thought. She could feel her cheeks flush and her breathing get harder. This was the most exercise she’d had in days. But there was something almost magical about being the first set of footprints in the clean, bright snow.

They walked for ten minutes before they came across their first snowman. He was built in the middle of the sidewalk at a peculiar angle. The hat had slipped and one of the stones that had been an eye had fallen out.

Dan smiled as she stopped to admire him. ‘Oh, no. Here she goes. Snowman envy again.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I saw your face when you watched the news report. The shops we’re visiting are right next to Washington Square Park. If you really want we could stop and build one.’

She shook her head. ‘But I didn’t bring a carrot. Every good snowman needs a carrot for a nose.’ She smiled. ‘Actually, I’d much prefer to do a snow angel. Less work, more fun.’

They walked around the edge of the park towards the shops. There were a number of independent stores with lights on inside. Dan pushed open one of the doors quickly and shouted through to the back. ‘Aidan, are you there?’