A Lethal Legacy by P. C. Zick

wonderful, but I don't think she likes me much. But, Philip?" She
snorted into her drink and curled her lips.
    "Philip isn't
much with babies, I know, but he did allow Claire to come for two months to
help," I said.
    "Now isn't he
the greatest, though," she said.
    "What is it,
Pam? What's wrong?" I really did like this troubled woman and wanted to
help. If I could just understand the source of her unhappiness, I would be able
to bring more textures to the main character of my novel. At times, I wondered
if I cared more about the fictional characters in my stories than those sitting
right in front of me agonizing over the mundane details of life.
    "Nothing, Ed.
You wouldn't understand." Tears formed in her big blue eyes.
    "Try me."
    "Philip, he's
not really . . .," she faltered and then seemed to regain her composure.
"Forget it, Ed. It's nothing."
    I didn't believe her,
but I couldn't imagine what Philip had to do with her marriage. Then suddenly
Allison's warning about my Uncle Philip came to mind. What had she said about
not leaving her alone in a room with him? I downed my drink and told Pam we’d
better be getting back to the house. I didn't like the progress of my thoughts.
     On the way home, she
asked if we could stop by the liquor store for some supplies. She came out of
the store cradling two fifths of vodka in her arms.
    As we walked up the
front sidewalk to the house, we could hear Kristina's cries, before we even
opened the front door. I went immediately over to Aunt Claire and the baby to
see what might be wrong. Pam pushed past me and went directly to her bedroom
carrying the two bottles of Smirnoff's, ignoring the piercing screams of her
daughter.
    "She's a little
cranky tonight, but she'll settle down soon," Claire said.
    I reached out my arms
to hold my little cousin, and Claire reluctantly turned the squalling baby over
to me. I began humming a Bob Dylan tune as I walked around the living room with
the baby on my shoulder. Soon the cries stopped, and I placed Kristina in the
crook of my arm. She looked at me once again with her intense blue eyes. She
began to coo and reached for my face with her tiny hands. I turned to kiss the
inside of the soft palm and inhaled the sweet scent of babydom. I didn't
understand how Pam could ignore this little creature who seemed to need very
little.
    Philip came in from
the kitchen. "Has she gone back to the bedroom?" We both nodded.
"It's time I had a talk with that girl. She needs to start taking care of
this baby and go back to Gary. She needs a reason, and I've got the best one in
the world," he announced over his shoulder as he made his way down the
hallway to see his daughter-in-law.
    I looked over at
Claire, and she shrugged. I wondered if Philip was going to offer her cash to
love her daughter.
    I decided I had seen
and heard enough for one night. I knew that Gary's marriage was in trouble, and
so was the baby who had a mother without a maternal bone in her body. I said
good night to Claire leaving her bouncing Kristina on her knees. My last image
that night of a smiling, gurgling baby cooing at a doting grandmother remained
indelibly inked on my memory.
    Whatever Uncle Philip
said to Pam that night worked. By the time Gary came home for the holidays, Pam
seemed to be finally taking care of Kristina. But whenever she could, she
eagerly turned the baby over to whoever happened into the room, usually Claire
or my mother.
    I edited some of what
I told Kristina now on the phone, but it was probably evident in what I didn't
say that Pam was a disconnected mother right from the beginning.
    "At least
someone loved me," Kristina said.
    "We all loved
you. You stole my heart the first time I held you in my arms, Kristina. I've
never forgotten that."
    "What about
now?"
    "Now let's worry
about you and what you are going to do with your life." I was anxious to
steer the topic of conversation away from anything intimate. I had just shared
with this young woman more about my life