I had a bad feeling that even if we got the information we wanted, She would end up disappointed or heartbroken.
A separate, self-protective part of my brain sent up a warning flare. Maybe I should be worrying about just how much I was worrying about Hope.
•••
The nursing home smelled like canned peas, urine, and floral air freshener. We were told that Darlene was in the middle of playing spades in the activity room. An aide went to ask her if she wanted to see visitors, and came back with word that we were to wait until the game was over. Hope and I cooled our heels in the lobby for twenty minutes.
Finally an aide wheeled in an elderly woman with a heavily sprayed beehive of bright red hair. She wore a boldly flowered, muumuu-looking thing that showed a disconcerting amount of crepey décolletage.
I introduced Hope and myself. “How do you do,” she said, extending her hand to me with the palm down, as if she expected me to kiss it. Not sure what to do, I took it and bent over it. Hope extended her hand, too, but Darlene ignored it.
“We were wondering if you knew this man.” Hope handed her the photo of her grandfather.
She looked at it for a long moment, like a poker player regarding her cards. “Who is this to you?”
“He’s my great-uncle,” Hope said. “We understand he got a girl pregnant, and we were wondering what happened to the baby.”
“Ah.” She handed the photo back to her. “And why do you want to know?”
Hope briefly explained, substituting “great-aunt” for “grandmother” and leaving out the part about the suitcase. “So... can you help us?”
“With what, dear?”
Hope glanced at me, her optimism visibly dimmed. “With what really happened to the baby.”
She cut her eyes away in a cagey manner. “Well, now, I don’t want to betray any confidences.”
I leaned forward. “Please, Miss Darlene. It would mean a great deal to her aunt. She’s very elderly, and she says she can’t die in peace until she knows what happened to her late husband’s baby.”
She cocked her head to the side. A loose piece of skin under her chin wagged like a turkey’s wattle. “Elderly, huh? I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the elderly.”
I suppressed a smile. She was probably in her late eighties, but apparently didn’t think she herself fell into the category.
She narrowed her already narrow eyes. “You say your uncle is dead?”
Hope nodded.
“Well, in that case, I suppose I might be persuaded to tell you what I know.” She gave me a long look, the kind that had subtext. “Let’s go outside so I can have a smoke.”
It took a few moments to get an aide to punch in the code that allowed us to exit. I pushed Miss Darlene’s wheelchair out to an ash can beside a concrete bench by the parking lot. She drew a Virginia Slim out of a jeweled cigarette case hidden in a pocket of her muumuu. I took the lighter from her and lit her cigarette.
“Thank you,” she said, batting her eyes at me and drawing a deep drag.
“Can you tell us about the woman and the baby?” Hope prompted.
“I’m not sure I can exactly remember.” Miss Darlene cast me another sidelong glance.
I pulled out my wallet and took out two twenties. “Perhaps this will jog your memory.”
She gave me a sly smile. “It might be starting to come back to me.”
I peeled off another bill. Miss Darlene took all three, snaked them into her wrinkled décolletage, and blew out a mouthful of smoke. “First of all, the baby wasn’t his.”
Hope’s eyes flew wide.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. Real sure. Joan was pregnant before she ever met the man in your photo.”
