A LIGHT IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER SEVENVE

CHAPTER SEVEN

VEGAApril 2021

sat on the edge of the bed, still in her coat with her bagslung over her shoulder, Riley in her arms, crying. She stareddown at him; a ball rolled tight in her throat. She was useless.Unable to ease her baby’s pain. She rubbed his stomach with herfingertips, trying to iron out the gas bubbles. “I’m sorry,” shewhispered, kissing his scrunched-up face, her own eyes wet. Sheinhaled; a sourness rose from the folds of his skin. He needed abath. In her hurry to run, she’d grabbed some onesies; hisformula, which would last a few more days but was alreadyrunning low; diapers; and a bottle of baby soap. But not the smallthings. Like the plastic bathtub at home—the one that fit across asink—or the blue rubber duckie that floated in the warm wateralongside him, or the velvet-soft washcloth she used to gentlyscrub his skin clean.She let her bag fall to the floor, slid out of her coat, and lookedaround the apartment, deciding on the small bathroom sink. Sheremoved Riley’s clothes while he cried, warmed up the water, andheld him with one arm while she squirted him with soap, rubbed itall over his skin with her free hand, using the rough washclothonly when necessary. He squirmed, his body so slippery sheimagined him sliding out of her grip and bashing his head againstthe side of the hard porcelain. She winced at the image, her heartbeating fast, so she splashed water over him and pulled him awayfrom the sink, wrapped him in a towel, and held him tight to herchest.Nightmare visions like that bloomed often in her head:accidentally dropping him, catching his head on a corner of a wallwhen she walked by, clipping his nails and cutting the skininstead. It haunted her, imagining any number of terrible thingsthat could happen if she let her guard down for a second.She zipped up a fresh onesie, made a bottle, and lay besidehim on the bed while he ate, his quiet gulping filling up the spacesin her heart. When she was a teenager, she’d grown frustratedwith the situations women found themselves in. Especially theones with kids. Why don’t they just leave? she’d asked her momonce. Her mother had given her a look that spoke of things Vegawas too young to understand. It had cut right through Vega’schest; her cheeks warmed.Don’t judge what you can’t understand.The soreness in her belly had eased but not the memory ofZach’s fist, his callous punch that had caused her bladder to leak,her pants wet and stinking of her fear. She understood now. It wasscarier to realize she’d been living with the most dangerous thingthat could happen to her baby.Riley finished the bottle, and when she put him up on hershoulder, he let out a long and loud burp followed by a cooingsound that Vega had never heard him make before. She laughedand laid him back down, his tiny spine curled against her, blondhair damp and drying in soft curls against his scalp. She pulled ablanket over them both. The radiator had made a halfheartedattempt to heat the apartment, but away from the source, thebedroom was cold. Riley lay on his side, staring at the wall, bigdark eyes that seemed to take in everything and nothing at all.Vega touched the tiny rolls that waterfalled down his neck, smilingat the funny pairing of newborn and triple chin. Her skin, marredby black vines that inked down the tops of her hands, looked alienagainst his untouched flesh. Renee had been alone too. RaisedVega on the road, nap times in the van. Vega’s father was a ghostwho inhabited her dreams or in the minutes before dawn whenshe lay curled against her mother. Vega wanted to believe he’dbeen different.Do I have a dad? she’d whispered. The van’s windows weresmall and covered by thin handmade paisley curtains. Milk-waterlight filtered through the space.Renee had sighed; Vega felt its hum against her back. Ofcourse you do.Vega didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. Is he abad one?Her mother had pulled her close, inhaled, and kissed the top ofher head. No, your father was good enough.Vega wasn’t sure if she believed her, and she didn’t ask again.She didn’t want to know why her mother was alone, why they livedin the van, never settling down long enough to make friends or goto school. She’d started to dream about living in one place, askedher mom if they could stay longer. Renee’s typical response: Lifeis lived in motion. And then they’d pack up and go. Vega didn’thate it—not all the time. There was so much she loved about theirtime together. She just wanted something more permanent thanthe van.Riley tensed and his bottom lip began to quiver. Vega quicklypicked him up and put him belly down against her chest. Theposition sometimes helped, and this time, he relaxed into her.Night had fallen hard outside, dark without streetlights, still andquiet. Her mother had said that Crystal was a nothing town full ofnobodies and bullies. Vega couldn’t help but wonder if her fatherhad been one of those nobodies.Riley’s eyes fluttered closed and his breathing deepened. Shecarefully scooted up against the bed frame, the knot in her chestloosening. She should sleep—her body craved it, sand filling herlegs—but now, when she had the chance, her eyes bugged wide.She was cocooned in a strange town, a thousand miles fromZach. But for how long? She felt every inch her youth in thatmoment and wished more than anything for one last chance totalk to her mom.The baby scrunched up his legs and started to whimper. Vegastood, keeping him upright against her chest, and bounced fromfoot to foot, patting his back and praying that the moment wouldpass. His whimper became a cry, and his cry quickly morphed intoa high-pitched wail. Vega breathed in. She knew what her momwould say. Toughen up, V. Her son needed her to be strong, and ifher mother had managed it, so could she. Riley deserved nothingless.Outside the rain had stopped and the night had cleared. Vegahad been a fussy baby too; her mother used to tease her about it.But a walk in the cool night air always did the trick. Her mom hadsaid she’d loved those moments the best.Vega felt the familiar burn in her eyes and slid into her jacket,wrapped the baby in a blanket, and headed outside. Maybe thecool night air would work for Riley too.It wasn’t even nine o’clock and the town was deserted,storefronts darkened, the stoplight and a lamppost outside ofEve’s Place shedding the only light. It was a ghost town at thistime of night, and Vega felt safe in the emptiness. The rain had lefteverything damp and smelling fresh, like grass and mud mixedwith the perfume of budding flowers. She walked down the street,feeling the cool air on her cheeks, the soft thump of her shoes onthe ground. The quiet soothed her, even if it was marred by thebaby’s cries, which never seemed to end. She wondered howsuch a tiny body had the energy to cry for so long and so loud. Atleast outside his cries were carried away by the breeze, absorbedby the trees and earth.At the edge of town, forest replaced buildings, made the roadappear small and lonely. She stood there, staring down the road,so tired the yellow lines wiggled—and hungry too. The sandwichthat Eve had given her had been her first bit of food sinceyesterday morning in Denver. With formula and diapers to worryabout, she hadn’t had the money for a proper meal, and tonightshe felt it in the fog behind her eyes. Riley’s crying seemed tocome from far away.She turned around to head back toward the apartment andyelped, suddenly awake. The pair of pigs from earlier that daystood just behind her, snuffling at the ground. She must not haveheard them above the baby’s cries. Having lived on the road herentire life, she’d never had a pet and had hardly ever been aroundanimals. Plus, well—pigs. Were they pets or livestock, anyway?She sidestepped around them and quickened her pace back tothe apartment.A pickup truck appeared around the corner, driving slowlydown the street. Vega tensed, cursing her vulnerable position, andpulled a slim can of pepper spray from her pocket, gripping it inher hand. Her mother had always carried one, and once Vega wasold enough to not accidentally spray herself, she carried one too.She hadn’t seen the need for it after moving in with Zach but hadkept it stored in the van just in case.The truck pulled to a stop, and when the door opened, sherelaxed her grip but didn’t put the spray away. Heff.“A nighttime walk?” He wore plaid pajama pants, a sweatshirtthat read GIVE BLOOD, PLAY RUGBY, and moccasin slippers; his hairstuck out on the top like he’d been sleeping hard and had beensuddenly woken up. “And with the Kunekunes, I see.”She jiggled the baby, whose crying had intensified. Her headached. “Thought the cool air might calm him.” She gave the pigs aglance over her shoulder. They were rolling in a muddy patch onthe road. “And the pigs weren’t invited.”Heff sighed. “They never are.”Her eyes narrowed and she squeezed the pepper spray. “Whatare you doing here, anyway?”“Got a call about a disturbance. Carl said he heard a childbeing murdered or a ghost screaming on Main Street. He andBetty live just up that ridge, and sound travels when the trees arestill bare.” He pointed up into the hills above the town, and Vegacould just make out a light shining through the branches.She took in his pajamas and slippers. “And you came dressedlike that?”He slouched against his truck, crossed his arms, and yawned.“I heard Baby crying earlier and I know gas pains when I hearthem, and Carl, well—Carl likes to get all riled up, so I don’t putmuch stock in his assumptions. Plus, Eve said that until thatradiator gets fixed, she’s worried it might be a little bit cold in theretonight, so I thought I’d bring by a portable heater.”“Okay.” She stood there, staring at the man. No way was sheletting him inside.His eyes were soft when he looked at the baby. “Is it colic?”“I think so.” She tried not to sound defensive, but it camethrough anyway. Her face heated. Their health insurance wasminimal, and the C-section bill had been a shock to them both.Riley had been due for a checkup soon, and she was going to askthe doctor about his crying. But when she’d googled it on the road,colic was exactly what it said it could be.He straightened, put his arms out. “May I?”His offer surprised her, and she held the baby tighter; thepepper spray fell from her hands and landed on the ground at herfeet. She scrambled to pick it up, but when she stood up, Heffhadn’t moved.“Smart,” he said. “You know how to protect yourself. Mymother moved here when I was just a baby. Single mom, workedher tail off to keep us both fed and warm. She always knew how totake care of herself too.” He paused, seemed to be lost in thought.Vega held tight to Riley. “Does she still live here?”Heff’s sunny demeanor dimmed. “Life can be hard, you know?”Vega nodded, tense, sensing there was more. Not sure shewas the right person to hear it.“She was a good mom.” He rubbed his chin, looked up at thesky. “But drugs don’t care if you’re a good person, and my mom—”The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Somehow she lost her way, gotmixed up with the wrong people. I lost her going on ten years. Sonow I help out when our deputy isn’t in town.”Vega felt a pang. Riley jerked his arms and legs, still crying,but the sound was softened by her empathy. “I lost my mom too.It’s been . . .” She swallowed. “It’s been really hard. I’m sorry foryour loss.”He gave her a gentle smile, seemed touched. “And I’m sorryfor yours.”Riley cried harder, and part of Vega wanted to lie down in thestreet and give up. Her nerves had fried. Exhaustion hung on herlike an unwanted friend, and in the shadows hovered images ofZach, angry and threatening. She couldn’t feel the groundbeneath her feet, only an unending tiredness that inked throughher bones. She realized that, since her mom died, she’d beendrowning, and she hadn’t known until her lungs had filled withwater.Heff’s voice was measured and deep, like he was calming aspooked cat. “When I was a boy, we looked after kids in town tohelp other moms who needed a break. We also fostered a fewkids over the years. As I got older, I helped, and as it turns out, Ihave a knack for soothing fussy babies.”Vega tried to interpret what he meant. “You want to soothe myfussy baby?”He smiled, and combined with his pajamas and mussed hair,the effect was nonthreatening. “I’m not Rumpelstiltskin, if that’swhat you’re implying.”It went against everything her mother had ever taught herabout men, but at that moment—with Riley in pain, grief curlingaround her heart, fear twisting her insides—she was utterly lost.Something poked at her, an instinct that said Heff wasn’t likeZach. Maybe it was their shared loss. Maybe she was just toodrained to be scared, but she needed Riley to stop crying. Sheneeded peace.She held Riley out.Shadows collected in his dimples. “Okay, then.” He took himgently, looking more natural, more at ease, than she had ever felt.Her arms—empty, weightless—hung by her sides. To her surprise,he flipped the baby over, placing him belly down on his forearm sothat Riley’s legs and arms dangled, his head cradled in Heff’spalm. Then he brought his arm close to his chest.Heff looked down at the infant, a softness around his mouth.“We fostered a baby girl once who had terrible gas pains just likeyour little guy. Sometimes this worked.” Heff looked up, raised aneyebrow, his voice a soft hum. “Sometimes. You must beexhausted.” He hesitated. “It’s hard work raising kids. Thehardest.”She leaned heavily against the truck door, fighting to keep hereyes from closing, a small voice inside her calling her an i***t forletting this man hold her baby. But Riley was at peace, and shewanted that for him more than anything. It was an unexpectedbalm. Heff rocked from foot to foot, humming a song she didn’trecognize and watching Riley, whose body lay limp over the man’sarm, cheek squished in his palm, face relaxed.After a few minutes, Heff placed him carefully into Vega’sarms, and she settled the baby in the same manner across herforearm. Heff went back to his truck, pulled out an electric heater,and placed it outside the door. “Can I bring this up for you?” hewhispered.Her head was a bit clearer, and with Riley back in her arms,she couldn’t believe she’d let this stranger hold him. She shookher head.His smile deepened his dimples. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Youseem like you prefer to do things yourself.” He backed toward histruck, pantomiming taking big quiet steps. “You go on up. I’mafraid I’ll wake him when I start my truck.”She went inside and navigated her way upstairs, locking herdoor behind her. Riley didn’t wake up when she put him on thebed, placing pillows on one side of him in case he took to rolling inthe middle of the night. Then she tiptoed to the front window—Heff’s truck was gone—and hurried down the stairs to snatch theheater from outside. When the bedroom had warmed, she climbedinto the bed and fell asleep with the spray under her pillow, Rileysnug beside her, and dreamed about a walk outside with hermom.