Caul Baby by Morgan Jerkins (read any book .TXT) 📕

leaned over to her glass, sniffed it, and his face contorted. By the time she turned back around, he was already digging into his chopped cheese.

“God, I miss these.” Amara held her sandwich in her hands and took in the greasy smell with her eyes closed.

“Harlem is only a train ride away, you know. It’s not like you’re on the other side of the world like East New York or Staten Island.”

“I know, but . . . I haven’t had much of an interest in going there, you know.”

Landon nodded. “You’re going to have to if you are actually running. I saw the headline.”

“Everybody and their mama saw that headline, and it’s still early in the day.”

“So let me ask you a question: Does that news drop have anything to do with why you called me down here?”

“It has everything to do with it.”

Landon wiped the corners of his mouth and made an L shape with his right pointer finger and thumb against the side of his face. “I’m listening.”

“Are you sure that no one knows about—” She cut herself off and took a deep breath. “No one knows about . . . her? At least no one who can harm me?”

“No one. I’ve made sure of it. Is that all?”

“No. I want to know what happened to her. What did you do with it? Her, I mean.”

“I gave her to another family—you know that.”

“Yes, but can I at least know their names?”

“It’s not important.”

“Landon, yes, it is. This is my career. Somebody could pay them off to talk about me!”

“They don’t know you. I never gave your name.”

“And how do I know for sure?”

“Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

“No, but—”

“Everything is fine, Mar. You are fine.” Though Landon rubbed her shoulder for reassurance, she could not have been any more incredulous.

“I just feel like you’re being cryptic for no reason.”

He retracted the hand that rubbed her shoulder. “I’m not being cryptic.”

“Yes, you are. If you aren’t, then why can’t I know who they are?”

“Because have you thought that maybe they have a career and reputation to protect just like you do?”

Amara sighed. “Point taken.”

“Look, I get it. You interrogate people for a living, and you’re about to hit the big leagues at your job. You’re nervous, understandably so. But you have got to calm down.” He took another bite of his chopped cheese.

Her eyes never left him. She was leaning over the island from the other side, and her right hand was clenched into a fist on the surface. He was afraid to move. Afraid to say a word lest she cut him off or maybe even put hands on him.

“What?” he asked.

She blinked twice. “Nothing.”

“No, say it.”

“I just find it pretty weird how you got so offended so quickly. All I did was ask a question, and now you’re acting strange.”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“I’m not projecting!”

“Look, I answered your question already. You’re fine. The bases are covered. Anything else?”

“Actually, there is something else.”

“Go ’head.”

“Mom told me about Laila. Said she’s been bringing you up but won’t talk to you on the phone. What’s that about? Y’all used to be close.”

“What do you mean, ‘What’s that about?’ The poor woman lost her mind after she lost her child. How should I know what’s going on with her? And what does this have to do with Hallow?”

“I just find it strange that Laila has started to say your name in connection with her lost child. We already know your connection to mine. The common denominator is you.”

“Your child wasn’t lost; you abandoned her.”

Amara ran her fingers through her hair and turned her back on Landon.

“Look . . .” He walked over to her side, and she turned her back on him again while dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “You made a decision, and there are no loose ends. Hallow is with a good family now. She’s fine. It’s done. Leave it alone.”

“She’s fine?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ve seen her again after that night I gave birth?”

“Yes, I’ve seen her. And what of it?”

“Why would you need to see her again if it was just a onetime deal?”

“I think we should table this.” He finished his chopped cheese and left the wrapping on the kitchen island.

As he started toward the door, Amara called after him and blocked his exiting by standing right in front of him. “Landon, I want to know what happened to my daughter.”

“Your daughter? Your daughter? You didn’t want a daughter, remember? You wanted to get rid of her, and I helped you do that so you could graduate from college and go on to law school. Everything worked out. Why are you purposely trying to throw a wrench in your own plans?”

“I . . . I just want to know.”

“Wrong. You care about your career. That’s what you care about. Leave motherhood to the women who wanted it in the first place. This . . .” His finger circled above their heads. “This is your life now, and it’s a damn good one. Don’t fuck it up now and be a cautionary tale.”

Amara relaxed her body, and Landon was able to reach for the doorknob to leave, scooting her out of the way in the process. She sank to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. A few moments passed before she realized that her entire body was shivering. Now she felt more tethered to her own flesh and bone, more rooted in the earth, and less in her head about all the professional commitments that now whittled away like dust into insignificance. Hallow had still come from her body, and she was out there somewhere. The blood coursing through her veins and pumping her heart became electrified as her yearslong denial was now over. But she had no idea what to do, what to say. So she returned to the past through memory, scanning over incomplete conversations, images, and people’s faces from when she was pregnant. She had her mother. St. Philip’s was still there. There was Landon and his family.

How had he already had a family on standby—no questions asked? Why