Chapter 4

“Well, she is finally sleeping through the night on a regular basis,” said Rodney.

She sighed, “Yes, but I still want to take her in to make sure her colic is really history,” she said.

“Yes, yes, do it,” he said. “She’s due for her second yearly checkup anyway, right?”

“Yes, that’s so, I’ll call Doctor Boze tomorrow and set up the appointment,” she said.

“Good, good, can’t be careful enough with our heart of hearts,” he said.

She smiled, “Yes sir, that’s true, for sure true,” she said. She was so happy that he was child oriented, so many daddies, as she’d heard and read, saw babies as more of a burden until they got old enough to throw a ball around with or the like. But Rodney had proved to be the perfect father. She wondered how Jimmy would have reacted if they had stayed together and had had a daughter or a son either one. Well, that was one thing that she’d never know, more’s the pity, she thought.

She was waiting patiently for the doctor to show up; the colic was a dead issue, but the doctor had some other information that he wanted her to wait around for. At first she’d been terrified that the supposedly routine checkup had found something dreadfully wrong. But, the doctor had smiled and reassured her that nothing of the sort was happening. There were however some lab results from when the baby was born that had just now shown up; they, the results had been sitting in someone’s desk files for more than two years; Dr. Boze wanted to talk to her about those for a moment or two as he’d said. He’d been gone for some little time.

The baby was sleeping in the carrier beside her. The darn thing sure was heavy, she thought. She picked up a magazine from the end table beside her and flipped through it absently. She put the magazine down. The timing was good: the doctor came through the door with a quizzical look on his face.

“Missus Pollard,” he said.

“Yes?” she said.

“Missus Pollard, I had a quick look see of Rebecca’s lab results,” he said, indicating the manila folder in his hand. Can we sit down over there for a moment, please?” She nodded, a new sense of worry showed itself in her demeanor.

“Doctor? What’s wrong?” she said. He looked over at her from the seat he’d taken across from her.

“Missus Pollard, I know you and Mister Pollard very well of course. Both of you as past patients of mine as well as the parents of little Rebecca,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “that’s so.”

“Well, are you, the two of you aware of Rebecca’s blood type?” he said. She gave him a look. She had to think.

“No, I mean I’m not, but I’m sure my husband is, well, probably,” she said. The man across from her shook his head doubtfully.

“Missus Pollard, this is kind of embarrassing for me. It happens on occasion,” he said, “but it is almost always an embarrassment.”

“Doctor, what’s wrong? Please!” she said, urgency in her tone.

“Missus Pollard, Mister Pollard is not the father of little Rebecca,” he said. “I know you thought, the both of you thought...”

“Huh?” she said.

“Mister Pollard is type-O. The baby is AB+,” he said.

She sat there stunned. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be! No way! The only other possibility would be...

“There’s no doubt,” he said. She’d paled. She felt faint. What was she going to do? She had to see her husband. She had to see him now. She rose, accepted the tendered manila envelope, bowed slightly in the doctor’s direction, picked up the carrier and the baby in it and left, hurriedly left.

Pollard Associates, her husband’s business name was run from offices downtown. It was there where her man manipulated his interests in the housing market and the buying and selling of properties and currencies on the various exchanges worldwide. Rodney Pollard was one heckuva money man. Barely thirty years old and he was already a force in the financial community. He’d had to hire a staff of three secretaries and a couple of male gofers to help him keep things in a manageable state, as he said, most of the time. His fortune had grown from what he referred to as the paltry million-five he’d inherited at age twenty-one, to almost forty million now, nine years later. And that figured to grow exponentially over the next ten years, so he’d assured her.

Carrier in hand, she mounted the steps of the ten story office building and headed for the elevators and the ninth floor where her husband’s offices were situated. She’d likely be interrupting him, but this was important, and she was antsy, very antsy.

She scooted by the receptionist’s desk to the cubicle where her husband’s secretary labored. “My husband in?” she said to the twenty-something aide. The woman looked up.

“Missus Pollard, uh yes, he’s in. You can just go on in,” she said. Claire Pollard sighed and headed down the short hall to her husband’s den. She entered without ceremony or knocking. He was on the phone.

He looked up and then spoke into the phone. “John, I’ll call you back. Something’s come up.” He nodded at the phone and killed it.

“Something’s come up hasn’t it?” he said. “It’s written all over your face. The baby?” He glanced at the carrier. He knew she’d been to see the doctor: the baby’s checkup. It had to be that, and he was concerned, and didn’t like it very much, actually at all.

“Yes,” she said.

“Okay,” he said.

“Rod, I don’t know how to even begin to say this...”

“Goddamn it, Claire, say it. Is Rebecca all right!” he didn’t quite scream. She quailed. She’d never seen him act like this.

“Yes, yes, she’s all right. Physically no problems at all, very healthy,” she said unnecessarily. He sagged back in his seat.

“Thank God!” he said with emphasis. “Claire don’t do that to me! You had me terrified there for a moment.”

“I’m sorry, Rod. I didn’t mean to scare you. But, we do have a problem,” she said.

“But you said...” he started.

“Yes, I said the baby’s healthy. No problems at all. But, Rod...”

“What!” he said, not too forcefully.

“Rod, Jimmy is Rebecca’s biological father,” she blurted out.

“What? What did you say?” he whispered.

“Some of the lab results from when she was born had evidently been misplaced, I guess, but Dr. Boze somehow found them and when he checked them to see if there was anything of consequence that he needed to tell us; well, there was. She’s AB+; you’re type-O. There’s no doubt, Rod. James is her bio-dad,” she said.

“Oh my God!” he said, still whispering.

“Rod, what are we going to do!” she said.

“What we aren’t going to do is panic. We’re going to think. We’re going to talk, the two of us. We’re going to consider before we do anything. This could be a major problem for us, or, maybe no problem. But, no matter what, we need to be calm and rational and slow. Yes, he’s going to have to know at some point; but Claire, it has to be at a time and place of our choosing. This is a problem, but not an insoluble one. Okay?” he said.

“Yes, yes, good,” she said.

It was 2:00 A.M. Hah! I thought, they’re probably up changing diapers. I hope the kid craps all over the one who’s got duty. She had to be what two years-old now, maybe a little more. The thought brought a smile to my face. I could feel it.

My thoughts relating to fecal disaster for one or the other of them notwithstanding, I was sad and jealous and angry and still bitter as hell. There just didn’t seem to be any justice in the world. The baddies, the two of them, always seemed to get more; and the screwed over, me, well, I just got screwed. Yeah, no justice, that was the reality. They say that God has a plan for everything. Well maybe, but I sure wish it would be a deal easier to figure out what those celestial blueprints were.

It was late; tomorrow was another work day, Tuesday. Another day working for nothing. Sammy had told me to get out and find me another woman. Yes, he had, about forty times. Though I was not by any means over the hill, I just couldn’t dredge up any enthusiasm for the chase. I didn’t want another woman; I wanted my woman. But, she wasn’t my woman anymore and that reality continued to leave me feeling hopeless and depressed.

It had been a long day and it was raining outside, outside being outside the Crossroads B&G. I’d made my deliveries, thereby ensuring that my bills would once again be paid on time, and I had been motivated enough to retake my seat at the best bar in town. And why the hell not? I had friends at the Crossroads. I looked down the length of the bar to where Jackie was in deep conversation with one of the local cowboy wannabes. I wondered if he’d score; Jackie was undoubtedly a sweet piece. I sighed, I needed a woman. Maybe I was thinking wrong. Maybe I should be taking the advice of Sammy and Henry. I looked around. Nothing, no women to be seen. Well, there was Jackie. Maybe I should try hitting on her. No, she’d shine me on. She knew about the baggage I was carrying around; she’d not want to be messin’ with any of that; she’d said as much if somewhat obliquely.

I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

“Sammy,” I said. “You hangin’ tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess. It was a long day,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m familiar,” I said.

“I see,” said Bertrand Larabee. He’d been Rodney’s lawyer since he’d adjudicated his inheritance almost ten years before. “So the man, your ex-best friend has no clue as to his paternity.”

“No, and neither did we until two weeks ago,” said Rodney.

“Well, he’s going to have to be told or you could be opening yourself up to a lawsuit down the line, and he’d win,” said Mister Larabee.

“But?” said Rodney.

“But, you will be in the driver’s seat even so. I mean if you do tell him and don’t try to keep him in the dark. Your wife is the mother. You have the wherewithal to support the baby with far greater resources than the bio-dad. And, you have proven your ability to be active parents in your daughter’s life. But, I’ll say it again, do not delay informing the man of his paternity; that would not be good,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll be taking care of that right away,” he said.

“Good,” said Bertrand Larabee.

“We have to tell him and we have to do it right away,” said Rodney. His wife sagged back in her seat. She nodded.

“Yes, I was sure that that would be what he’d say,” said Claire Pollard. “And thinking about it now, lately, I have to say I want him to know. And yes, I am absolutely aware that it is just something else he’s going to be focusing on and blaming us and especially me for. But, on the other hand it might get him to be a little more accommodating about reconnecting with us too. So, you tell me, are the upsides worth enduring the downsides for.”

He nodded. You know you make a very good point. I don’t know if I have an answer as to whether the good is going to outweigh the bad or not, but I guess we can at least hope for the best,” he said. “There’s no real alternative in any event.”

“For damn sure,” she said. “So when do you propose we lay it on him?”

“I’ll hunt him down at his shop tomorrow. Or, maybe lay in wait for him at the Crossroads. I hear he is pretty much a regular there since the breakup,” he said. She nodded.