locked. No one else came in and foresaw this happening.”
“Then this proves Bael is protecting us, that he means us no harm.”
“Maybe. I’d just like to know how this crib became so dangerously defective. It certainly makes your dark spirit a shining hero in your eyes, doesn’t it?”
I clutched Daniel more firmly; he had come fully awake and squirmed in my arms. “All I know is the baby’s safe. He could have been badly hurt. Whatever miracle caused him to be removed from that danger, I’m grateful.”
She put her hand on my shoulder. “I thank whatever agency’s responsible for his safety, too. Perhaps this Bael is a protective spirit watching over you and Daniel. Perhaps he’s one of many. It’s just that I’ve never seen a manifestation like this—Daniel moved halfway across the room and asleep to boot—and I’m shook up. But he looks healthy and happy, so it obviously was a gesture of love. Come on, let’s go downstairs. Maybe Dad can fix the crib after dinner. If not, we’ll have to get a new one.”
She led the way through the cheerful hallway, late afternoon sun streaming in the window at the top of the stairs, and then down to the living room. “By the way, honey, who put Daniel’s crib back together when Dad brought it back from Queens?”
“Richard,” I said.
CHAPTER 4
It had been a used crib to begin with. When Richard came over that weekend to visit Daniel and me, to talk, Mother and I showed him the dismantled crib, now stored in the garage.
We left the supernatural out while telling him our story, as we had when telling Dad and Fred. In our modified version, Daniel had been awake and safely with me in the kitchen when the crib collapsed, that Mom had grasped the crib post while tidying the room, when the whole thing came tumbling down. The three men agreed we had been damned lucky the baby hadn’t been in it. Some might think we deceived the men, but they wouldn’t have believed us, had we told them the entire truth.
Only Ginnie had been told the whole of it, while we dismantled the old crib and once again set up the old laundry basket as a temporary overnight crib for Daniel. Ginnie listened without her usual skepticism, knowing that even if someone had broken in and moved Daniel, knowing about the crib would have in itself been a psychic act. But Ginnie conveniently detached herself from our unorthodox brand of the supernatural by ascribing Daniel’s mysterious relocation to God. “Miracles are God’s province,” she said firmly, “alone. I really don’t have any other explanation, unless one of you moved him earlier and have developed temporary amnesia about it.”
“Amnesia has been under discussion lately,” Mother said wryly. “But we only told you, dear, so you could be on the lookout if anything of an unusual nature occurs.” She was well aware of Ginnie’s blithe disdain of what she called our hocus pocus. “Will you help us out?”
“I’ll be your Sherlock Holmes in all things mundane when it comes to the out-of-the-ordinary. But I doubt if I’ll ever see a ghost or spirit, and if I did, I’d be looking for the projector, thank you very much. And don’t expect me to be picking up on any telepathic conversations either. But, yes, I will keep this weird occurrence that you’ve told me about a secret, a desire I can plainly read on your faces and know from long experience.”
“That’s two for Sherlock Holmes,” I murmured.
“What?” Ginnie asked, holding Daniel and shifting him to her other shoulder.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’d really appreciate your detection work, if anything else happens, especially because you measure things so logically.”
“Appreciate my finer talents, huh?” She laughed. “I think this kid of yours has gone to sleep. You sure he won’t crawl out of this basket bed?”
“Gin, he’s only nine weeks old. And after what happened this afternoon, I definitely think someone’s watching over him.”
“God.”
Mom took the baby from her. He yawned as she lowered him into the basket bed. “And sometimes God’s agents.”
Ginnie shrugged. “I’d rather cut out the middlemen. But can we talk about something else? The baby’s all right, and all this business about dark spirits and protective auras is giving me the willies. I’ve had to listen to that stuff since I was old enough to understand English, and I’ve never experienced one whit of it. Why don’t we talk about clothes? My sister’s back and I haven’t even had time to go shopping with her . . . and Leigh Ann, they’ve got some divine numbers at the mall on Cottman Avenue. Maybe we can go tomorrow night when I come home from school.”
“Maybe Leigh Ann and I will be shopping for a new crib tomorrow,” Mother cut in. “Hopefully one with an instant delivery schedule. In the meantime, it’s nearly midnight. Time for bed.” She lightly kissed Ginnie and me on the cheek. “Try to keep quiet,” she said. “Your father’s already conked out, and you know what a devil he is if his sleep is disturbed.”
She headed down the hall to her and Dad’s bedroom.
Ginnie shrugged and began undressing. “Then let’s go mall shopping this weekend,” she said.
“I haven’t any money, Gin. And with you in nursing school, I wonder that you do, unless Dad’s being less stingy with allowance this year.”
She pulled a nightgown over her head and tugged it down. “Dad stingy? I’ve told you. You just have to butter him up. I just hug him and talk sweetly and, presto chango!, he’s as generous as can be.”
“That’s one magical act I haven’t managed yet.” I took my old night shift from the other closet, undressed quickly, and put it on. I picked up our day clothes—Ginnie’s lay on the floor as usual—and chucked them in our hamper. Just like old times.
“You know, that’s your problem,” she said, sprawling on her bed. “You’re too damned honest. Even with your and Mom’s, uh, refraining from discussing your psychic stuff, you’re so direct, it irritates him and then Dad gets all grumpy with you. You have to learn how to coddle. I mean, he’s the one who told us you get more flies with honey than with vinegar. It’s one of his favorite sayings.”
“Too late.” I lay back on my own bed. “We’re both set in a pattern, Dad and I. If I started to kiss up to him now, he’d know it. Besides, I’ve never been able to fake anything very well.”
Ginnie yawned. “Never too late to learn. If not with Dad, maybe with other men. It’s possible to be too honest, Leigh Ann. I mean, you’re not doing too well in the love department, heading for divorce, with a young baby and all.”
“I really don’t know where I’m heading with Richard. Maybe I can forgive him. He seems to want me to.”
“You’ll have to make up your own mind about that.” She yawned again. “Turn off the light, will you? You’re closest to it.”
I checked on Daniel in his temporary bed, satisfied that the sturdy plastic basket prongs were high enough to keep him inside, then switched off the overhead light. “Goodnight, Gin.”
“Night, Leigh Ann.” Another yawn, silence, then, “I can’t see what you see in Richard. You can do a whole lot better than him.”
“I’ll
