Erica Spindler - Cause for Alarm

Nothing like a guilty conscience to straighten a man right up.

Did Richard have a guilty conscience? Kate wondered as she bussed The Bean's outdoor tables. Was that why he was being so attentive? So thoughtful? Was that what the constant stream of gifts had been about?

She could understand if he felt bad about the things he had said to her. About Luke. And Emma. She supposed he cringed when he remembered how he'd tried to force himself on her that night. She still did.

But was there something else? Something more?

She cleared the table, collecting the used napkins, empty sugar packets and creamers, stuffing them into an empty coffee cup before she wiped the top down with a damp cloth. She was being paranoid. Letting her imagination run away with her. She had been ever since the day Old Joe had seen the girl on their swing.

The girl on the swing. Kate didn't know why, but it always seemed to come back to her.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, Kate looked up to find her neighbor approaching, his Shih Tzu prancing ahead, tugging at the end of its leash.

She held a hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun and waved with the other. "Joe," she called, "come have a cup of coffee with me."

He waved back and started up The Bean's front walk. Several minutes later, they were both seated at one of the tables on the porch, coffees in front of them and a bowl of water at their feet for the panting Beauregard.

They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments, then Kate got right to the point. "I've been wondering about the young woman you saw on our swing. Do you remember what she looked like?"

Joe appeared unsurprised by the question. He scratched his head. "Now, let me think," he murmured. "It's been a while, and she and I weren't eye-to-eye, you know."

He looked at Kate, forehead wrinkling in thought. "She had hair the color of yours, cut in about the same style. She was youngish, like a college girl. And she was wearing a short skirt."

He shook his head and snorted with disgust. "She had no business swinging in an outfit like that, if you know what I mean?"

Kate agreed that she did. "Is that all you remember about her, Joe? Was there anything else about her appearance or behavior that struck you as odd or outstanding?"

He thought a moment, then shook his head. "Sorry, Kate. Wish I could be more help."

They chatted a few moments longer, then he thanked her for the coffee and left. Kate stared after him, her thoughts whirling with the little bit he had told her.

Brown hair. Medium-length page boy. Youngish. That description could belong to hundreds of women in the Mandeville area. It also matched the one Citywide had given them of Emma's birth mother.

Dear God, Emma's birth mother.

Even as she told herself she was once again letting her imagination run away with her, she jumped to her feet and hurried to her office. She picked up the phone, dialed Citywide's number and asked for Ellen. A moment later, the woman was on the line.

"Ellen," Kate said, sounding breathless even to her own ears. "It's Kate Ryan."

"Kate," she said warmly, "it's nice to hear from you. How's the baby?"

"Wonderful. She's getting so big, you wouldn't recognize her. She rolled over yesterday, and she was so proud. Just beaming, the little stinker."

"Bring her by, we'd love to see her." The social worker's tone changed, becoming all business. "I'm guessing you didn't call to talk about Emma's many accomplishments. Am I right?"

"Right." Kate cleared her throat, nervous about how to approach this. She didn't want the social worker to think she was paranoid or to start having doubts about the stability of the couple who were now Emma's parents. But she had to know if she thought Emma's birth mother could be having second thoughts about giving her baby up. If she couldn't have somehow found them.

"I was wondering…have you heard from Emma's birth mother?"

"No," Ellen responded, "not at all. Why do you ask?"

"I'd still like to meet her. We both would."

"I'm sorry, but she was adamant about keeping the adoption completely closed." "I see." "I know you're disappointed, but hang in there, she may change her mind yet."

She wouldn't, Kate knew. Maybe that was just her paranoia thinking for her, but she didn't think so. She had this awful feeling the woman didn't want to meet them because…what? She had plotted some diabolical scheme, one designed to ruin their lives?

Right. That kind of scenario didn't happen in real life- only in Hollywood screenplays.

Even as she told herself she was losing it, Kate asked, "This may sound crazy, but is there any way Emma's birth mother could have found us? Could any of our identifying information been inadvertently included in our profile packet?"

"Absolutely not." Ellen drew a cautious sounding breath. "Is something wrong?"

Kate sighed. "It's silly, but I…I have this terrible feeling that-"

"Emma's birth mother has changed her mind and wants to steal Emma away from you."

"Yes." Kate brought a hand to her chest, both relieved and horrified. "That's it. How did you know?"

The social worker laughed lightly. "Because it's such a common fear among adoptive parents, especially ones involved in a closed adoption. In a closed adoption, the birth parents remain big question marks. The adoptive parents don't understand why they gave their baby up. They wonder, how could they? After all, to them the baby is the most wonderful, perfect creation in all the world, and they love her so much, they can't image life without her."

She had wondered those things, Kate acknowledged. In just that way, too many times to count.

"Actually," Ellen continued, "your fear of losing Emma shows me how completely you've bonded with your daughter. You're a family now and the thought, even unfounded, that someone might have a claim to a piece of that family is, well, it's terrifying. As time passes, it'll get better." Kate heard the smile in the woman's voice. "I promise."

Kate laughed self-consciously, somewhat comforted, but she couldn't help thinking there had to be something about Emma's birth mother that even Ellen didn't know. "She never expressed any second thoughts? She hasn't called and asked about Emma? Nothing?"

"Nothing. Kate, I promise you, Emma's birth mother was totally committed to placing Emma. She was as at peace with her decision as any birth mom I've worked with. Trust me on this, you will not be hearing from her."

Moments later, Kate hung up the phone, the social worker's reassuring words ringing in her ears. But even so, Kate couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that it was too late-they had already heard from her.

It didn't take long for Kate to begin meeting The Bean's newbies. The first was Mr. Military, as Blake had dubbed him. Kate was dismayed to see that for once her melodramatic employees had not exaggerated-he was a very scary guy, cold as ice.

Kate approached him, introducing herself as The Bean's owner, intent on learning his name and what he was doing in Mandeville. She failed miserably. He made it clear that he had paid her exorbitant price for a cup of coffee and that he would like to enjoy it in peace.

She granted him his request, though not without a measure of dismay. Why, she wondered, had he decided to frequent her friendly little establishment?

The Jerry Garcia groupie strolled in next, her third morning back, reeking of incense and saying things like "cool" and "far-out." Marilyn got into a lively no-nukes discussion with him, and Tess took a break to hear about his days traveling with The Dead.

Kate wandered over after getting Emma fed then down for her nap. "Hi, Steve," she said and held out her hand. "I'm Kate."

He smiled and shook her hand. She noticed that his skin was unusually smooth for a man's. "Figured as much," he said. "Love your place. It has great vibes."