From the last part:
“I don’t think we have to worry much about Abby’s legal freedom. There’s no way her dad would get her, even if he wanted her. He’s been deemed “irresponsible” by the CPS. He’s also the only one who hasn’t had his rights formally revoked so I think I can tell you in 99.9% assurance that Abby is yours.”
Laurie smiled. “Great! Thanks so much, Shina.”
“No problem. Talk to you later.”
“Okay, bye!”
“Bye-bye.”
***Now***
Laurie turned off the speakerphone and finished undressing. Her clothes lay in a sodden heap in the floor. Molly wandered in from the kitchen and immediately began to lick up the little puddles of milk streaming from the sweater.
Laurie pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a fresh sweatshirt, depositing the sopping garments in the hamper. Molly gave up trying to scrape the last molecules of milk off the floor and jumped up onto the desk. She sat, staring quizzically at Laurie, as the woman finished wiping up the mess.
“You do know that you are very sweet and a rather large pain in the rear, don’t you Molly?” The cat cocked her head to one side.
“Yes, I am talking about you. You know, I’d really appreciate it if you told me before you knocked over a carton of milk. Maybe you can keep that in mind next time.”
Molly jumped off the desk and skidded to a stop on the counter.
“Hey, you. You’re not supposed to be up there. I don’t care how cute you think you are, missy, no counters for kitties.”
Laurie shoved the kitten onto the floor. Molly stalked off in a huff, tail held at an angle to keep it from dragging on the floor. Maya had watched the whole conversation from her perch on the bookshelf.
“You’re just as bad, Maya. And you are supposed to set an example for Molly. She’s only a kitten, but you’re an adult.” She reached out and stroked the black cat’s head. Maya meowed in response.
“I know. It’s a lot of work being an adult, isn’t it? You have to take care of yourself and get yourself food and keep yourself clean *and* you have to do it for someone else too.”
At the cat’s questioning stare, Laurie continued.
“Yes, you do. I know what you are thinking. How would I know? Well, soon there will be two humans for you to boss about. Remember Abby? I told you about her. She’s the little girl I’ve been working with at the preschool. Well, she’s going to be my daughter soon, so she will be living with us.
“No, she’s not mean to cats. In fact, she was very nice to Molly when I took Molly to school. Yes, she is very dear and very kind and I shall need all your help in taking care of her. I don’t know how I will be at it.
“I had a little sister once that I used to take care of …” Laurie’s voice trailed off. She remembered the time her little sister had burned her hand trying to light a jack-o-lantern. Laurie had stayed up half the night with her, bandaging the burn and trying to keep ice on it to keep it from hurting.
She scrubbed the counter briskly.
“Well, I’ve been able to take care of my preschool class room, haven’t I? How hard can one little girl be?
She wrung out the cloth and hung it on the edge of the sink.
“I mean, one girl. I take care of 18 at school. I should be fine - I don’t think I can do this. I can’t be a mother. What do I do if she gets sick? Or won’t listen to me? What if I screw her up for life? What if she doesn’t like me? What if I set her up for a life of drugs, or worse, counseling?” Laurie stared at Maya in dismay. “I can’t do this…Can I?”
Molly leapt up onto the bookshelf beside her “mother” and began to purr.
“Well, you’ve managed okay, Maya. Maybe I will too. Maybe I will too…”
*** Thursday, June 12th, 1997***
Clark punched on the speakerphone in the conference room. He was very confused. First, he, not Perry, was conducting the interview. Second, Perry hadn’t even bothered to really look into Barrows’ file and third Perry was acting…unPerryish. Why on earth was Clark picking out the Planet’s newest reporter? It didn’t make any sense.
Well, to Perry, it made perfect sense. It was dragging Clark out of his depression. And the editor was willing to hire another Ralph if it would liven Clark up a bit.
Clark glanced at his pad and then at the phone. For some reason, he didn’t want to dial the number. Dialing the number would make this real and he didn’t want it to be real.
Real was scary. Real meant he couldn’t turn back. Real was final – no more wishywashing, no more saying something and believing something else.
Real meant no Lois.
Clark punched in the numbers carefully and pulled his pad closer to him.
“Hello, you’ve reached the New York Times City News Section-“
“Hello, I’d li - ”
“If you know your party’s extension please dial it now. For an alphabetic listing of all employees in this section, press one. For breaking news tips, press two. For information on employment, press three - ” Clark pressed the one button.
“Aaron, Miriam-36; Adams, Rachel-21; Agguire, Michael-22; Andrews, Samuel-44; Aster, Ben-34; Barrows, Elizabeth-47, Benavidaz, Kari-53- ” Clark punched in four and seven and listened impatiently as the phone rang.
“Hi, this is Eli.”
Clark took a deep breath. “Hello Ms. Barrows - ”
“Call me Eli, please.”
“My name is Clark Kent. I’m a rep - ”
“For the Daily Planet. I read all your work. You are *such* a good writer!”
“Thank you. I was actually calling to discuss some of your work.”
“Why discuss my work? I’m sure yours is a lot more interesting. Your profile photo certainly is.”
“Considering we have almost exactly the same job, I doubt my work is any more exciting than yours.”
“Clark, don’t be modest. Everyone knows you are *very* talented. I’m sure writing isn’t the only thing you’re good at.”
Clark could almost hear her lick her lips. He mentally took a step back from the woman.
“That’s hardly true. Ms. Barrows - ”
“Eli,” the woman purred.
“How long have you been writing?” He tried to steer the conversation onto safe ground.
“Not nearly long enough. I haven’t had a chance to meet you, Clark.”
Clark suddenly realized one of the reasons Perry was having him do the initial interviews. Who wanted to deal with this? He decided to cut to the chase.
“Do you enjoy your work for the Times?”
“Not at much as I would … enjoy… working with you.”
“Are you interested in a career elsewhere?”
“If it’s anywhere near you, Clark, I’m all for it. It would be so…special.”
“Um, thanks. Right. Good bye.”
“Call me again, Clark. I’d love to meet you sometime.”
Clark flipped off the phone rather hurriedly. Elizabeth Barrows was like Cat Grant crossed with… something nasty - maybe wilted spinach. Slimy and green. He shuddered. He highly doubted ‘Eli’ would be receiving another call from him.
Real meant dealing with people like Elizabeth Barrows.
He glanced down at his notepad. It was covered with scribbles vaguely resembling words. He wasn’t surprised. Barrows hadn’t said anything worth writing down.
Real meant trying to find someone who would understand him.
Standing, he stared at disgust at the phone before stalking out of the conference room. Kyle hailed from across the room, but hurriedly busied himself with some menial task when he saw the look on Clark’s face. It wasn’t a storm cloud, or a ‘run-for-cover’ look, but one that very plainly said, “Don’t talk, I’m not in the mood.”
Real meant dealing with the people around him again.
He made a beeline for Perry’s office.
“I don’t think Barrows is gonna work out, Chief.”
Perry looked up from the article he was editing. “Why in Sam Hill not?”
“She’s less tasteful than Cat was.”
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
“I’m sorry, son. I was hoping you’d get an easy interview the first time around.”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do the stupid interviews,” Clark muttered under his breath. Then, aloud, he said, “She was the only we had to look into, right?”
Perry squashed his hopes. “Nope. I found another one for you to call. Tom Brokaw, LA Times.”
“Perry, the last phone call was a disaster. I really don’t want to talk to potential partners. Couldn’t you do it?”
“Nope. You’re the one who’s going to be working with them. You’ve gotta talk to them yourself.” Perry dropped the article he was holding.
“I can’t stand talking to people about partnering with me! It’s like I’m being disloyal to Lois.” Clark was almost shouting, then his voice sank to a whimper. “Perry, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. You just made a call. That’s all you have to do. One call at a time.”
Clark laughed, then blew his nose. “You’re reminding of that kids song… what was it? Oh yeah, ‘Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you’ll be walking cross the floor…’ or something like that.”
“You’re not walking yet, Clark, but you’re getting there.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“You’re getting there. You can stand up now.” Patting Clark from across the desk, Perry waited for his reply.
“Then why does it feel like I’m drowning?”
“Because you stopped trying to die.”
Clark laughed morosely, again. “Dying was a heck of a lot easier than not dying.”
“No, it wasn’t. You were numb enough to think it was. ” Perry leaned forward in his chair.
“Being numb is easier than this.”
“Yes, but being numb is worse than being dead. It means you wasted your life.”
*** Saturday, June 14th, 1994 ***
The silence of the room was not broken. Laurie carefully moved her arms, slowly lifted them to the sky, stretched them as high as she could, then breathed deeply. The rest of the room was following the instructor’s silent example. Laurie watched as he sinuously twirled to one side, then copied him.
Abby was going to be hers. Her own daughter.
She thought back, to those years ago. She had not hated, but strongly disliked children. She couldn’t stand to be around them, couldn’t stand to have anything to do with them. They were fragile back then, and she was afraid if she touched them, they would break.
How surprised she would have been, back then, in May of ’94, if someone told her she would be a preschool teacher by July. She would have scoffed in their face. She, a preschool teacher? Yeah, right.
But that had been before that horrible weekend of May 7th. That had been before her life had been turned upside down. That had been before the FBI put her in the Witness Protection Program. That had been before she was Laurie Smith.
And there was no getting around that fact. Laurie Smith was a different woman than her old self. She wasn’t the same person, not even remotely close to the same person. That was what had hidden her. That was why she was a preschool teacher. Because Laurie Smith liked kids.
Kids couldn’t stab you in the back. Kids couldn’t break your heart in one fell swoop. Kids couldn’t try to marry you and then kill you. Kids – even though she didn’t get along with them, were ultimately safer than adults. She had realized that on June 13th, 1994. Kids were safer than adults.
And when she realized that, she decided to work with them. She still hadn’t liked them, but they were safe. And safe was all that mattered. Whether she hated their guts or not, they were safe.
Then she went through training. At the end of the two-month course, she still hadn’t liked kids. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that they were safe and she had a job teaching them. She didn’t have to like them to teach them.
But in her first two months at the preschool, she had learned to love children. She had found out that there was nothing in the world like helping a child learn something new. She had discovered the extraordinary feeling of joy that an adult got when a child smiled at them, just at them.
Laurie Smith liked children.
Abby Martin was going to be Abby Smith. S.M.I.T.H.
Laurie smiled to herself. She did like children. And she was going to be a mother.
Suddenly she realized what a tangled web she had woven with her thoughts. She realized because she was four flows behind everyone else in the class. As she hurried to catch up, her thoughts strayed again from the yoga at hand to her change of character and her excitement about Abby.
She didn’t kid herself that it would be all fun and games. Abby was deaf, and that would make life harder for her. She’d never be able to hear Laurie talking, never be able to listen to beautiful music, never, if one day she was a mother, be able to listen to her own child.
But Abby was also special, and Laurie was determined that the three year old know that. To quote the old saying, ‘How can one be poor when one is loved?’ Abby would be loved and she would know it. Laurie would ensure that.
There’d be other problems too. Abby would fight and rebel and Laurie would punish and demand. There’d be tantrums and lost privileges and times when Laurie felt she was the big bad witch. But it would be worth it.
She’d have a family again, something she hadn’t had in three years. Someone special to love and be loved by. She hadn’t known how much she needed it until she lost her sister. But her sister was gone. She wanted a family, someone to love. Abby would be her family.
Just a few weeks. A meeting with Rachel Greene next week, and then two weeks until Abby could live with her.
She smiled and once again began to concentrate on the instructor.
*
“Hello, this is Laurie…Hi, Shina…Really? She got it through? That’s great!…Monday, five o’clock… I’ll tell Ruth Ann I need a sub for the afternoon…Oh, that’s right, you’re going on vacation till the eighth of July. Have fun!…Thanks so much! All righty, bye bye.”
Laurie let out a small whoop of joy, startling Maya under the bed.
TBC...
