PERSISTENT PURSUIT

Davenport, Iowa August 20, 1973

Stella Norton braces her back against the passenger door of my brand new Ford Thunderbird. Behind her, moonbeams shimmer across the Mississippi. From the driver’s seat I turn toward her as I lay my hand on her hands clasped on her lap.

“Brad Crosley, why should I trust you? How do I know you’re not just like every man I have ever known?”

“I’m not every man you’ve ever known. It’s too bad you’ve been hurt by the men in your life. I don’t blame you for being cautious. Sure I’m capable of doing harm to you. But to earn your trust is going to be a challenge I’ll gladly accept.”

“You know I’m damaged goods. I don’t deserve any trustworthy man, if there is one somewhere in this awful world. I have been burned by men who were kind and attentive until they got what they wanted.”

“What do you want? You ask me why you should trust me. I should be asking you why I should trust you. Have you lured me into your lair with your beauty and charm to spring a trap on me?”

The reflected moonlight through the sunroof sparkles on Stella’s moist eyes. “You bet I have. And you have captured me with your genuine integrity and your commitment to me and my unborn child.”

Stella clutches my hand and pulls me toward her, wrapping her arms around my neck, I engage in a kiss I have never experienced in my life. The temptation to break my promise to earn her trust almost overwhelms my resolve.

We settle back into our seats. I start the engine and ease the car on to the road to Davenport. Stella links her arm around mine and lays her head on my shoulder. I drive her to her apartment. I don’t dare accompany her any farther than the foot of the stairway.

“Have you come to the same conclusion I have?” I ask.

“I’m sure I have. I’m ready to become Mrs. Brad Crosley.”

“I’ll pick you up in the morning to get our marriage license.”

In the foyer we embrace and savor one more passionate moment.

Central High School, Davenport, Iowa --Friday, May 31, 1974

The bell sounds ending the school day and the school year. Like rockets off a launching pad, my sophomore English Lit students eject themselves from their seats and out the door.

“See ya in the fall, Mr. Crosley.”

“Have a nice summer, Mr. C.”

As much as I enjoy most of my students, I’m looking forward to a break. Stella and I married just before classes started last fall. Instead of an exotic honeymoon in Jamaica, I plunged right in to lesson planning and faculty meetings. A few romantic days on the beach would have been preferable to combing through dozens of books of Chaucer and Shakespeare and enduring faculty meetings to discuss dress code and health insurance.

Now I’m free at last. Stella and I are going over maps dreaming of places we want to go. We have a ten-week-old baby boy we call Gerald. There’ll be time to get acquainted with him. I can’t wait to get home to start a summer of fun with my family.

I walk less than a block and I’m already soaked with sweat. Our air conditioned apartment will be a welcome relief. Taking the steps two at a time to our third-floor apartment, I can’t wait to see Stella and Gerald. My sweating hand slips around the door knob. Locked. Why would Stella lock the door? She knows I come home around this time. Doesn’t she hear me coming up the stairs? I dig my key out of my pocket.

Gerald is crying. Something’s wrong here. Ooh, what a smell!

“Stella! Where are you?”

No answer. Is she sick? She’s not in the bathroom. Where would she go and leave Gerald here unattended?

I unbutton my wet shirt on the way to the bedroom. There’s Gerald, his tiny body trembling, gasping for breath. How long has he been left alone? I pick him up and press his moist body and wet diaper against my own bare chest. The spasms stop. A few quick sniffles, the crying ends. Blue eyes swimming in tears lock on mine.

“There now, you’re going to be all right.” I brush my lips on his soft blond hair, curled with sweat.

I check the closet. A suitcase is missing. Only a few items left in her dresser drawers. I’m afraid of what this means. My heart skips a beat. A lump plugs my throat, but I’ve got to attend to Gerald.

“Let’s get that diaper off and give you a bath.”

I lay the boy on the double bed and remove the filthy disposable diaper. A piece of paper flutters to the floor. Must be a sales slip. I carry the naked tyke to the bathroom; open the faucet to fill the bathtub. On my knees I check the temperature with my elbow.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up and cooled off. Where has your mother gone to leave you here all by yourself?” I can’t believe this.

I lower Gerald into the warm water accompanied by a dozen floating toys. They distract him so I can squirt baby soap down his back. I lift him above the water, covering him with lather from head to foot. I put him back in to rinse him off.

“That ought to make you smell better.”

I feel an urge to jump in the tub myself. The tot’s splashing and my attempts at bathing him manage to get me almost as wet as if I had taken the plunge. I grab the special hooded towel and lift the baby out of the water on to my lap.

“How does that feel, buddy? You must be hungry. I’ll get you dressed and we’ll find a bottle.”

Returning to the bedroom with a towel-wrapped naked baby, I spot the piece of paper on the floor. I examine it. It’s Stella’s handwriting. My fingers tremble as the dreaded words appear.

Dearest Brad,

I don’t expect you to understand the meaning of this. I am neither wife nor mother. Why should I keep trying to kid myself? I can’t take it any longer. Don’t blame yourself. You were too kind.

Goodbye forever,

Stella

I slide down the side of the bed to the floor, hanging on to my son. What is she doing? What am I going to do? Tears fill my eyes, blurring the evidence in the room of being a place of happy encounters of a couple married less than a year. I pull Gerald close, our bodies cemented together with shared moisture.

“We’ll have to tough it out together.” I try to comfort him and myself. Is she playing Brad Crosley for a sucker all this time? She’s sure doing a good job of it if that’s what she intends.

I snap back to the challenge of my situation. A hungry baby needs to be clothed and fed. I powder him and fit a new diaper in place.

Where does Stella keep his stuff? I find what I need to get him dressed. Cradled in my arms, I transport him to the kitchen. A bottle, yes, that’s what he needs. I open the refrigerator. There’s a quart of milk. Where are the baby bottles?

Stella, how could you do this to me? You tell me not to blame myself. So why did you leave? Why won’t you come back? What about all our planning? Is it all just a game?

“Ah, there’s a bottle and nipple. Let’s get it warmed up for you.” The poor kid is being very patient. It must be a novelty that daddy is taking care of him. I place the baby bottle in a pan of water and heat it on the stove.

How long am I going to have to be a mother? At least Stella pulls this stunt when she knows I’d be finished with the school year. That gives me some time to get arrangements worked out for child care.

The water is boiling. The milk must be warm by now. I remember seeing Stella sprinkle milk on her wrist to check the temperature. Let’s see how it feels. Hmm. Still cool. Better let it heat up some more. This sure blows our plans for the summer. So much for trips to the Grand Canyon and Busch Stadium.

Okay, the milk is warm now. “Here you go, Gerald. You really are hungry.” Those parenting classes they offer at the hospital would be useful right now. I’m too busy grading papers, making lesson plans. Trying to be the best teacher I can be. I depend on Stella to handle all of this stuff.

I look at my son with different eyes now. He’s my total responsibility. It’s up to me to feed him, clothe him, cuddle him, and play with him. I’m not prepared for this. Look at the little guy. He’s stopped drinking. There’s still more milk in the bottle. Oh, that’s right. He must have to burp. I hoist him to my shoulder and pat his backside. I feel something warm run down my back. It’s a good thing I don’t have on a clean shirt yet. I wipe milk off of his face and my back, as far as I can reach. He’s ready for more.

“Okay, pal. There’s more for you here.” His cheeks contract and expand. The milk in the bottle disappears.

What in the world would make Stella even think about leaving us? We celebrated her birthday. Our first anniversary is still three months away. She has her disasters in the culinary department, but we laugh it off. She’s improving a lot. I encourage her to buy attractive clothes, get her hair done. I pay for manicures and even pedicures. What could I do to make her happier? She never says a word that I can recall to indicate dissatisfaction. She feels inadequate?

Gerald’s asleep. I put him in his crib. Oh Stella, what were you thinking? How could you abandon us like this?

I’ve got to talk to somebody. I pick up the receiver and dial.

“Hi, Carl. Brad. Is Lyla there?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, Lyla, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Is something wrong, Brad?”

“No. Yes. I, uh, Stella left… this morning. She left a note. Stuck it to Gerald’s diaper.

“What did it say?”

I read it to my sister.

“Oh Brad, I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I called you. I can’t figure out what is going on. She seemed happy. We just planned out our summer last night. Now, what?”

“I remind you when you brought her to meet our family; her self-esteem had been deeply wounded. Mom didn’t show her any respect. She…”

“Yes, I’ll never forget that, but I thought I had helped her feel better about herself. Where would she go? What if you ever decided to leave Carl, where would you go?”

“Perish the thought. I would never do that.”

“But where would you go, if you were Stella? I have no idea where to begin looking. She hated her parents. I know they live in Des Moines. She would never go back to them.”

“Would she look for Gerald’s father?”

“She didn’t even know his name. They were both drinking when …you know, when it happened. She hated the guy, whoever he was.”

“I don’t know, Brad. I have no idea where she might have gone. I hope she wouldn’t try to kill herself.”

I can’t think of anything to say. I just want to cry.

“Brad. Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here. Thanks, Lyla. I’ll call you back when I get it figured out.”

“I’ll say a prayer for you.”

“A prayer? Thanks a lot, Lyla. Goodbye.”

I need more than prayer. I dial another number.

“Hello, Dad. Brad”

“Yeah, I recognize your voice. Isn’t that amazing? It’s been a long time.”

“I know. Sorry about that. Teaching is a full-time job, you know.”

“You bet. Three month’s vacation every year.”

“I’ve been looking forward to that. I’m afraid it’s not going to be much of a vacation.”

“What’s the problem? You sound depressed.”

“I came home from school today to find Gerald squalling his head off and no Stella. She left me a note telling me she is leaving me. No hint of where she was going or why.”

“Ouch. Sorry to hear that. How can I help?”

“I want her back.”

“I might be able to spare a private detective for awhile. Why don’t we wait a couple of days? Maybe she’ll figure out she was better off with you.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know. How’s Mom?”

“She’s about the same. She still blames you for her condition. Just for the record, I don’t.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll get back to you soon.”

Gerald is waking up.

When you throw a baby in the air,

they laugh because they know you will catch them.

That’s trust.

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