CHAPTER 1
Carter
“Do you have any hands on experience working with babies or small children?” I ask the final applicant of the day.
She smacks her bubble gum for what seems like the hundredth time in the last three minutes since she arrived before crossing her legs and then begins talking…mostly with her hands.
“Oh yeah. Tons,” she says.
I wait for a follow up but nothing more than the continued sound of that gum snapping.
“Could you elaborate on that a little?”
“Yeah, so like, um, in eighth grade? Right. Well we had to carry around a bag of flour for our Home Economics class for an entire week.”
“A bag of flower?” I’m still new at this whole dad thing, but I’m not sure there’s any connection between a bag of flour and a child.
“Yeah. You had to, um, pretend the bag of flower was a baby and you couldn’t like, uh, drop it or anything or you got a bad grade.”
“A bag of flour you couldn’t drop?” I ask.
“Yeah. It makes total sense really. Whoever thought of it was a genius. I mean most people just get a dog before they have a kid, but a bag of flour is a better test because you have to like hold it all the time and stuff. I mean you can lay it on top of your books, or put it in your backpack if you know the teacher won’t catch you, but the idea is really smart and stuff.”
I’ve interviewed twenty-three young women today and somehow each has been more of a real life comedy show than the rest, but I’m not laughing. How in the world could I trust my baby with any of these girls is beyond me. And the scariest part is to think some of these girls are going to be mothers one day in their own right. I’m not exactly excited about the future for unborn babies in this town.
But it’s the end of the day. I’m tired. I’m hungry so I just capitulate and throw in the towel. “Did your bag of flower “survive” the week?”
“Yeah. Well, until the last day at least. I left it at my boyfriend’s house and his mom accidentally made muffins out of it. They tasted really good though.”
“Let me get this straight. Your “baby,” which was actually a bag of flower, got turned into baked goods which you then ate?”
“I only had a few. My boyfriend ate most of them. He played football and stuff. He was a really big guy. Say,” she says as she looks me up and down, “what are you doing later?”
“I have an appointment with the wall. I’m going to bang my head against it.”
“Huh? I mean is that fun and stuff? I can like join you if you’re, you know, looking for some company and stuff.”
I stand up and motion to the door.
“Thank you, but I think I’ve got this one covered.”
As we approach the door she asks, “So did I get the job?”
“You know there were a lot of candidates today. I’ll need to spend some time with the applications later.”
“Okay, cool. Well if you need some help I’m definitely your girl. And even if you just want to hang out sometime, I mean, it seems like you have a really big house, and you’re here all alone so—“
“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need anything. Have a great rest of your day,” I say trying to scurry her out pronto.
She snaps that gum about five more time just for good measure as I shut the door behind her.
“You’re here all alone,” I repeat her words under my breath. She does know she was interviewing for a babysitting position, right? As in there’s a baby living here too? Then again she doesn’t seem to differentiate between a baby and a bag of powder made by grinding raw grains.
But it’s not her words that resonate in my mind right now. It’s Chief Simmons.
“Listen up fellas. City council voted on mandatory overtime from May through December so everybody’s got to step up there hours. And if you can’t, I’ll have to find someone who can.”
He didn’t mean to be a jerk, it’s just that he was up for re-election this fall and wanted to make sure he kept his cushy spot as the chief of police.
As a captain on the force it was my job to actually carry out his order and lead the men and women at our station through the whole ordeal. And as a good leader I need to lead by example which means more hours for me.
And that doesn’t exactly jive with my new role as a single parent.
As much as I enjoyed coming back to my hometown to do police work here, I was starting to wonder if I made a mistake. The pay and hours were better in bigger cities, and I might have to head there soon if I couldn’t comply with the overtime mandate.
I never expected it would be so hard to find a babysitter, but then again I never had experience with a baby let alone dealing with this younger generation. Kids these days didn’t make sense to me. They seemed more interested in being online than being involved in real life conversations.
I needed someone who was present, attentive, and loved children. I wasn’t going to trust my little baby Brooklyn with just anyone.
I still remember the day I found her. The day she looked up at me with those baby blue eyes. It was then I realized why the color was called baby blue in the first place.
We got the call for a domestic disturbance and my partner and I were first on the scene. By the time we arrived that S.O.B. boyfriend had taken the life of his girlfriend before turning the gun on himself. It was beyond tragic.
And the bigger tragedy is when we walked through the house and found a baby in the back room.
She didn’t even have a proper crib, a proper name, or as I soon found out a proper birth.
She had been delivered at home, or somewhere outside of a hospital, just a few weeks earlier. Parents hadn’t even taken her to see a doctor a single time. Talk about starting life out with the odds stacked against you.
But there was just something about her when I picked her up.
Maybe it’s because I was getting older and I knew I wasn’t going to find the woman for me anytime soon. I hate the term settle down, because it implies slowing down. I want a woman who challenges me and who I challenge. One who makes time speed up because we’re having so much fun.
I’m thirty-seven now and I’ve never met anyone like that. I say it’s because I’m too picky. The cops I work with say it’s because I’m addicted to helping people, which means I’m addicted to my job.
Either way the clock’s ticking and I saw this as fate. I never believed in that fate stuff before, but when I looked in that little girl’s eyes I knew I was destined to be her daddy.
Fortunately being a civil servant meant I was able to get through the adoption process in record time.
I named her after the neighborhood in New York where I found her. I wanted her to have a fresh start, but for some reason I couldn’t get that name out of my head. I finally settled on naming her Brooklyn, but then giving us both a fresh start by moving back to my hometown. It was slower paced here and better for family…until the new overtime mandate that is.
But without a babysitter my plan of raising her in the same place I came from was quickly coming undone.
My sister, Christina, was able to help me watch her a lot of the time, but she wouldn’t be able to handle an extra ten hours minimum a week on top of the twenty she was already giving me.
I was out of plans and out of time.
The schedules for next week come out at noon tomorrow. High noon, just like an old Western shootout to determine who stays and who goes.
The writing was on the wall. I’d have to sell the house I just bought and be on my way. There’s just no way I’m putting Brooklyn in incompetent hands.
I went to her crib and just looked down at her for a minute.
“Don’t you worry. We’re going to make it. Together.”
She smiles.
I swear she understands me. I know it’s crazy, but it’s true. And what’s the craziest is how much I love this little girl.
I carefully pick her up and carry her outside.
Time to pull down the babysitter wanted flyers I posted around the neighborhood.
Tomorrow I’d put up a new sign outside.
For Sale by Owner.
And then Brooklyn and I would hit the road as I settled into a new police force.
Protecting people is in my blood, but my first duty comes to protecting my family.
And she’s everything to me.