The Strange Case of Baby H by Kathryn Reiss

the parents would find their baby! Now they have, so what’s wrong?”
    Clara stood trembling behind her chair. She gripped the back of it, hard. “What’s wrong is that the note came here, right to our door. To our back door, Edgar, just after we felt someone was watching us out in the yard—”
    â€œUncle James,” he murmured.
    â€œI’m sorry, but I don’t think so. I think someone was out there watching us. Then, when we came in, that person crept up the ramp and slid this note under the door.” She took a deep breath to calm herself.
    â€œAll right, maybe so,” Edgar said. “Maybe the messenger saw us going inside, so he slipped it under the door instead—”
    â€œNo,” said Clara. “No. Because you’re forgetting something, Edgar. When I wrote the note and posted it on the message board in the park, I deliberately did not write our address. Remember?”
    Slowly, Edgar nodded.
    The room was quiet. “So how,” Clara asked softly, “did they know where to find the baby?”

C HAPTER 9
    N OBODY’S B ABY

    I think we should go to the park at four o’clock,” Clara announced into the uproar around the table. “Leaving the baby at home.” She glanced at Father. “Under guard.”
    â€œAnd we’ll see who shows up at the tea garden!” Edgar chimed in. “We’ll talk to them and demand proof—”
    â€œPerhaps a photograph of the baby and her parents together,” Miss Ottilie Wheeler added. “Ooh, this is very exciting!”
    â€œIt could be dangerous,” said Father, looking to Mother. “Though it’s not a bad plan in itself.”
    Mother shook her head. “Clara is not to go to the park!”
    â€œI’ll go,” said Hiram Stokes.
    â€œAnd I,” said Geoffrey Midgard. “We’ll see who shows up and bring them back here if they can prove they are legitimate.”
    Clara scowled. She wanted desperately to be at the Japanese Tea Garden at four o’clock. “Please, Mother, let me go with the men.”
    â€œAbsolutely not,” said Mother. “It would be madness. We don’t know a thing about these people. I want you where I can keep an eye on you today.”
    And, true to her word, Mother kept Clara and Edgar busy for the rest of the afternoon. They cleaned the lunch dishes out in the yard, using as little water as possible. They checked through the dwindling supply of foodstuffs and fried up cornmeal fritters to serve for supper with the last of the bean soup. At three-thirty, Hiram Stokes and Geoffrey Midgard set off for Golden Gate Park.
    Clara and Edgar stayed behind. They cut up apples, bruised from rolling out of their barrel in the quake, and made a thick applesauce seasoned with cinnamon and a little sugar. It would have been fun for Clara, having someone to share the work with—almost like spending the afternoon with Gideon—if she had not been so upset about what might be happening in the park without her. Mother sat inside with the lady lodgers, passing the baby around and playing with her. Old Mr. Granger obligingly pushed the Hansen and Grissinger tots in the swing hanging from the oak tree. It was a cheerful scene in the backyard despite the smoke pall hanging in the air, but Clara couldn’t relax. She felt edgy. Edgar only made matters worse. Sure that his Uncle James’s ghost was hovering, he kept turning around suddenly as if to catch it unawares.
    Clara set the applesauce to simmer on the makeshift stove. “You’re making me jittery,” she complained to Edgar as the two of them began refilling the kerosene lanterns and trimming the wicks.
    Mother called to Clara from the back door. “The baby has soiled her diaper and the doll dress, and now she’s got nothing clean to wear, poor lamb. Please pop up to the attic for our storage carton of baby garments, while I warm some water.