Selena Kitt - Grace

“I’m not riding in the same ambulance with her.” The ghoul sneered, looking over where Erica stood, her father just arrived, hugging his daughter close, his desperate gaze searching for some glimpse of his wife, but they had just wheeled her away. Patty was holding Leah’s things-the dropped pocketbook, her shoes, looking as lost as Erica felt.

The ghoul pointed in their direction, eyes burning with anger. She came closer, her voice low, but loud enough to hear. “That dirty little whore will never, ever get her hands on that baby now. She’s going to jail for this, and I hope she rots there. I’ll see you all in court on Monday.”

“All rise.”

Leah did, with Rob’s help at her elbow, although her knees were wobbly and threatened to buckle. She had dreamed about Grace all night, tossing and turning and crying out in her sleep. Poor Rob had a bruise on his side from where she had elbowed him, dreaming about fighting the ghoul for her baby, wrenching the infant away from the woman, only to find the blanket empty.

She had done her best to cover her dark circles, dressing very modestly-their meeting with Donald Highbrow the day before had deeply impressed that upon her. Appearances mattered. He just shook his head and sighed when they told him about her arrest and being taken in restraints to the hospital. She’d only stayed there overnight, being released in Rob’s custody on Sunday.

She knew she had put the case in jeopardy, but when she’d seen that woman in the restaurant bathroom, just standing there washing her hands, carefree and happy as a lark, she had lost it. There was the ghoul, the woman who had taken Leah’s baby right out of her bassinette, bold as you please, right under her nose. The ghoul was singing to herself as she dried her hands, turning to see Leah standing in the door, and the worst part was, she didn’t say a word. Not one word.

The ghoul just straightened her shoulders, tossed her head back and walked right past her, nudging Leah aside to open the door. It was that cold, callous treatment, the woman’s utter disregard, like Leah was nothing to her, invisible, that had done it. Leah had snapped. She couldn’t remember much after she grabbed the ghoul’s arm, turning the woman to face her at the front of the restaurant, demanding to know where her baby was.

She didn’t remember the fight, and Erica and Patty weren’t much help in that regard, since they had arrived after it had been broken up, but she had, apparently, removed the comb from her hair and gouged the woman with its metal teeth at some point during their argument. Rob told her it was probably the drugs causing her loss of memory, but she wasn’t sure that was it. Everything in her vision had gone black with rage when the ghoul had turned around and told her in a hiss that she would never, ever see her baby again.

Rob sat, pulling Leah down with him, and she collapsed into him like a rag doll, trembling against his side. Her mother served as another bookend on her right, holding her up, and Erica was next to her. Erica had asked Clay to come with her, and she was sitting close to him, holding his hand.

The lawyer had explained everything. First the judge would come out and he would call their case. There would be other cases, and other people in the courtroom. Today they would be simply addressing Donald Highbrow’s motion that the child be returned to Leah based on the law-she had six months to change her mind about the adoption, regardless of whether or not she was coerced into signing the papers.

The lawyers would present their arguments and witnesses. Leah would be called to the stand to verify that, yes, she was changing her mind about the adoption and now wanted her baby back. Donald explained that the state would present their case, calling the social worker and others in an attempt to show Leah as an unfit mother. They would also be able to cross-examine her. He had prepared her as best he could for their questions, making it very clear if she had another outburst in the courtroom like she had in the restaurant at Hudson’s, it was likely she really would never see her baby again.

Leah looked around the courtroom, searching for Grace-there were lots of babies and children in the room, more than she’d expected-but the lawyer had reminded her of their tactics. Donald told them they would likely try to stall and give reasons, even if the judge deemed her a fit parent, why Grace couldn’t be handed over right away.

“They aren’t above lying,” they lawyer had assured them. “We will just have to be persistent. So don’t expect to take your baby home from the courtroom tomorrow.”

When she didn’t see her baby anywhere, Leah rested her head on Rob’s shoulder, watching things unfold, cases called. Some adoptions were being finalized, and adoptive parents cried and hugged their new family members when the judge brought his gavel down, giving them forever-rights to their adoptive child, and every time, Leah winced. She couldn’t help but wonder about the baby’s mother. Had she really wanted to give her baby away, she wondered? Had she been too scared to speak up? Had she been told, like Leah had, that she didn’t have anything to offer a child?

Had she been tricked, lied to, treated like dirt? Less than dirt, really, more like an object, a baby machine, useless once its job was complete. And the irony was, it was all legal. The lawyer had explained, the church couldn’t ask adoptive parents for money directly in exchange for a baby according to the law, but they really didn’t have to. They just had to make the suggestion that the “standard donation” was $20,000, and desperate, infertile parents would pay it. More, upwards of $50,000 depending on their requests-if, for example, they wanted a boy, or a specific hair or eye color, or a mother whose hobbies included playing the piano or singing or whose parents were doctors or lawyers or other professions.

That was the reason they had all been asked to fill out those endless questionnaires, why the ghoul had kept asking and asking and asking, “Who is your baby’s father? What does he do? What do his parents do?” The more information they had, the more valuable the baby became, the more money they could ask for in “donations.”

“Leah, it’s you,” Rob whispered, giving her a gentle nudge, and she looked up, seeing Donald waiting expectantly near the witness box.

She stood and made her way down the row, past her mother and Erica and Clay, who smiled encouragingly at her. Donald Highbrow waved her into the witness seat and Leah approached on shaky legs, grateful to take a seat, even if it meant she was right next to the judge, who was a stern looking man with gray hair and half-moon glasses that he peered over to look at her.

Leah put her hand on a Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, and that’s exactly what she did. Donald smiled a lot, putting her at ease, and she found it effortless to answer his questions, letting him build his case, layer by layer. Yes, she had been a resident at Magdalene House because she was an unwed mother at the time. Yes, she had intended to give her baby up for adoption because she felt she had no other choice, but after the baby was born, she changed her mind and wanted to keep her.

Once that had been established, Donald painted a picture with a deft lawyer’s brush, and with simple strokes, he showed her as bright, competent, talented young woman, getting her to mention her invitation to audition for the American School of Ballet. He clearly made the point that she was now a married woman, in fact married to the father of her child, who was a very successful and well-known photographer. He established that they had a stable environment in which to raise the child and a network of support in the community, including a solid relationship with the Catholic Church.