Complete short story, "The Baltimore Princess"

The Baltimore Princess

Shay watched the clock, eleven-fifty-eight p.m.  Two excruciating minutes to wait for the news she needed to hear.  She rubbed her distended belly affectionately and smiled.  Her baby had to be a girl; just had to be for everything to work out right.  Contractions startled and then pained her.

“Now I know you want to come out little one, but we have to wait for Princess Kate to deliver first.  I just know it gonna be tonight.  Her baby gonna have a wonderful life and so are you, cause I’m gonna name you the same.  You two be linked forever.  I know it true, you’ll see.  Life will be heaven for the princess and you.”

Outside her two-room apartment in the poorest section of Baltimore, gunshots were fired.  Instinctively, Shay crouched low behind the decaying sofa, but made sure she snatched the remote so she could turn on the TV. “Ain’t nobody gonna harm you little one.  They can’t, just impossible.”

She fixed her gaze on the clock, barely visible beyond the top of the sofa.  12 a.m.  She pushed the ‘on’ button of the remote.  The nineteen inch tube set hummed as it warmed up.  Finally, horizontal lines jiggled across the screen before a clear picture of the CNN news set appeared.

Sitting straighter, the sixteen-year-old giggled like the little girl she was, and wrapped arms around her child within as Breaking News, flashed across the screen. And then she slumped- bad news!

“A house fire in Loch Raven has taken the lives of four family members and a fireman who tried to rescue them.”

Brushing the bad news aside, she recovered. “Come on Kate, you gotta have that girl soon, cause I ain’t gonna last this night.”  More contractions sent a wave of pain through her and she grimaced.  “Hold on girl, we gotta wait, you know that.” 

The TV blared, “In other news, the baby watch continues for Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge and Prince William.  Just as interesting is the speculation as to what the royal couple will name the little girl.”

She watched, fascinated. 

“There is a tremendous amount of speculation about what they will name the new Princess,” the co-anchor said.

“Everyone in England is captivated, anxious about learning any news concerning the newest member of the Royal Family.”

Shay sat, no words graced her lips.  Then the spasms began again. One involuntary scream escaped her mouth.  She turned the TV volume up, hoping if she tuned into the news and focused totally, the pain would go away.  Breathing deeply and concentrating on the screen distracted her enough. The newsman commented, “Stay tuned tonight for special coverage of Kate, William and the new baby.  We will bring you the news as soon as it happens, which, we are told, will not be long.”

Shay took short, quick breaths and stared at her focus point, the TV screen.  The nurse who visited earlier in her pregnancy, had instructed her what to do when her time was near.  She remembered and concentrated.  Sirens pierced the night, and filled the street below, as gunfire erupted one more time.

The contractions backed off by 2:28 a.m., causing her to be euphoric.  “We gonna make it, little baby.  We gonna make it.”  The angry and screaming voices outside her window had ceased and the television anchors kept saying that any minute news of the royal baby would come.

Shay moved to the couch and sat cross-legged, leaned back, cradling her belly in her arms.  Her eyes never left the TV screen, fearing she would miss the initial news if she allowed her gaze to wander. 

A story about wild fires in California, and soaking rain and tornadoes in Oklahoma kept her interest.  She hummed lullabies, learned from a baby book the home health care nurse had provide; Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Brahm’s Lullaby, and her favorite, Hush, Little Baby.  During a commercial about iPhones, she began singing, changing papa to mama:

Hush little baby don’t say a word,

Mama’s gonna buy you a mocking bird

And if that mockingbird don’t sing,

Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring

And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Mama’s gonna buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke,

Mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat

And if that billy goat won’t pull,

Mama’s gonna buy you a cart and a bull

And if that cart and bull fall down,

You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.

She had barely begun to sing again when the news broke.  Kate had her baby. A girl as expected, just like Shay knew she would have.  She sprang to her feet, happy tears burst from her eyes.  She even managed a tiny leap off the floor, clapping her hands as she did so.

“Now, now you can come, my baby.  We workin' on this right now,” she said emphatically.  Supporting herself by holding onto an arm of the couch, she rose to her feet and began pacing the room.  “This’ll get you goin'.”  She stopped to squat several times and then rose up and resumed as fast a pace as she could.  Stopping, she suddenly thought of making sure the bathtub was prepared.  A large pillow and two blankets to lie on were in place.  No sense getting the whole house bloody and full of mucus and what the nurse had called amniotic fluid. 

Shay took the towels she had prepared. They were warm.  She paced to the small kitchen counter and filled the bowl with hot water, placing a washcloth in it, and carried it to the floor by the tub.  She resumed her pacing.  An hour later, she wailed, “No…why ain’t you comin', little one?” Desperate tears flowed down her cheeks, dripping onto the floor she walked.  “You gotta come!”  Quickening her pace, she cried a torrent of tears, Shay remembered what the nurse had said, “Stay calm, keep your focus.”

She always knew her baby would be born here, not in a hospital, not with a midwife to help.  This was the place where destiny awaited her child.  This was why the apartment had been prepared so well.  She was proud of that.  One day, when her baby was old enough to understand, she would tell her just how much her mother had wanted her, to bear her at home where they could be as close as a mother and daughter ever could be. 

Shay had never known her birth mother, or real father.  At least her little girl was going to know her mother loved her, wanted her, had dreams, hopes, fears, for her.  She would know that her mother had sacrificed to guarantee she would have every advantage she possibly could.  That’s why this whole thing was so important.  Her baby girl would have to be born the same day as the royal child…and she would have to bear the same name. 

Shay gritted her teeth, “You comin' little girl, you comin' soon.”  Her pace became hectic; she squatted several times and then resumed walking, skipping…Finally, she felt labor spasms. “‘Bout time, little girl.”  She quickened her pace, walking briskly to the bathtub and eased herself down, pulling her loose skirt up around her waist.  Struggling, her panties came off and she discarded them over the side of the tub. 

“Now, baby girl, you come!”  Pain like she had never felt before coursed through her body, the spasms brought relief…and terror.  Sweat poured from her forehead as she cried in pain and happiness.

Pant, the nurse had said.  She panted, focused on the faucet on the opposite end of the tub.  Sweat, more sweat.  She was so hot now.  A scream escaped, but she quieted herself.  “Gotta do this by myself!  Don’t want no one comin' in!”

Forty torturous minutes passed, and then, the time was right. Her water broke. She sensed it, could feel it, knew it.  Push, push, gotta push.  Pant, push, pant, pant, push.  She could feel her baby moving inside.   Gotta guide her.   Sweat getting in her eyes, she strained to see.  Her baby was coming out, now.  Don’t pull on her head, guide her out. 

The crown of the baby’s head emerged and then her face.  Shay gently placed her hands against the shoulders of the baby and guided her as more was revealed.  It all happened so quickly.  She was out totally, still connected by the umbilical cord.  Shay gently stroked downward on her baby’s nose to help expel the excess mucus and amniotic fluid. 

Shay shouted with joy and relief when she saw her baby was a girl.  She placed her little one skin-to-skin on herself with the baby’s head slightly lower than her body to help drain the mucus.  The baby coughed, wailed a tiny one, while laughter erupted from her mother. 

The placenta had accompanied the baby.  Shay stared and marveled at what her baby had lived in for nine months.  Clutching her baby girl close, she wrapped the warm towels around both of them.  Chills had set in and she noticed a bloody discharge flowing from her vagina.  She was glad she had thought ahead and prepared the bathtub for the delivery.

The nurse had told Shay about the cord and how doctors didn’t cut it right away.   Holding her baby close to her chest, she could feel blood pulsing through the cord, but the pulse was gradually diminishing and she instinctively knew that with the placenta fully expelled from her body, that she could tie it off and cut it soon. 

She picked up the scissors she had placed in the hot water bowl earlier and pinched the cord with her other hand.  Her baby lay securely on her chest, breathing beautifully.  The cord was tougher than she had thought it would be, taking some effort to snip.  Laying the scissors back in the bowl, she tied the cord tightly and then relaxed.   Her baby felt so much a part of her as she lay on her chest, warm and happy.

Although exhausted, Shay maneuvered the infant’s mouth to a nipple.   Instantly, the alert baby’s mouth found it and began sucking.  Shay marveled at how her baby just seemed to know how and what to do.  Her amazement turned to concern when her daughter released the nipple and cried.  No milk?  Fear gripped her as she thought the unthinkable.  What if I can’t make milk?   No, keep tryin’! Shay guided her infant to the nipple again.

 Again her daughter glommed on and furiously sucked.  When she released again, Shay saw a yellowish liquid dribble from her breast.  Gotta keep workin'.  She maneuvered her baby to the nipple again.  This time her daughter continued sucking for several minutes.  Relief flooded Shay’s soul as her body produced enough colostrum, the nutrient-rich "pre-milk" or "practice milk”.  The yellow color didn’t concern her because the home health nurse had warned her that it might not be white, like she expected. 

The rest of the evening and late morning, the baby would awake every hour and suckle at her breast.  With difficulty, Shay was able to clean herself and move to the sofa, which she had fitted with a sheet and blankets.

The TV was still on CNN.  She couldn’t miss the naming of the new Princess.  Soon, her very own “Princess” would bare the same name, guaranteeing a heavenly life. 

Shay was calmer now, relaxed…but alert.  She had managed to fix herself a baloney sandwich on white bread and mayonnaise and drink a large glass of whole milk.  Tired as she was, her strength was beginning to return and the anticipation of naming her child provided her with an alertness that was surprising, even to her.

The entire day of May 2, 2015, passed with no news of the new Princess’s name. 

On May 3, 2015 at eleven a.m. the funeral of Freddie Gray was set to begin.  He was the black man who had died a week after being taken into police custody.  At 1:42 p.m. his casket was loaded into a hearse.  At 3:30p.m. dozens of police gathered on the streets.  Protesters began to confront police at 3:34 p.m. and began throwing bottles at officers at 3:41.   Soon smoke was billowing from the street and a car was wrecked.  A massive fire at Federal and Gay Streets raging by 5:51pm.

Shay watched in horror as the carnage continued throughout the day and evening.  Camden Yards was closed at 6:19 p.m.  Rioters cut fire hoses.  CVS was looted and went up in smoke.  A curfew was imposed from 10pm to 5am.

Tears streamed from her eyes as she watched everything unfold on national and local television.  Her baby was born into chaos.  How can this be?  It’s gotta stop, gotta stop! 

Shay slept fitfully during the day and evening of May 3, 2015.  Her baby continued on a schedule of sleeping and eating every one to two hours. 

Curiously, it had been quiet outside her small apartment.  Whether people were afraid to go outside or not, she didn’t know or care. She welcomed the order and silence.  The riotous streets of Baltimore appeared to be calming and her baby had settled into a sleep and eat routine she found natural and relaxing.  Still…one act needed to be complete. 

The Princess had to be named.  Why they taking so long to decide? Shay found herself becoming anxious again.  Something wrong with the baby?  God, no, don’t make it so! 

May 4, 2015 at 2:05 p.m., Baltimore time, the news broke.  Across the screen, Breaking news, Special Report, appeared.  Shay clutched her baby to her breast.  She was feeding again.  Milk was now plentiful, satiating the baby whenever a need arose.  Turning the volume up, Shay listened intently.  She was shaking as the announcer broke the news.  Charlotte Elizabeth Diana. 

Laughter erupted from Shay, causing her baby to pull away and stop nursing.  A tiny cry escaped from her mouth.  “I’m sorry, my little girl, I’m sorry, but you got a name now.”  She guided Charlotte Elizabeth Diana to her nipple where the Baltimore Princess eagerly resumed feeding.

Murder on the North Shore (rough draft)

The wind whistled.  The day was full of clouds with a hint of rain.  Seth Tryton stood at the top of Palisade Head, staring at whitecaps that splashed across Lake Superior. He walked with trepidation to the three-foot tall rock wall lining the edge of the cliff and looked over the edge to the rocks and water a hundred-seventy feet below.  He shivered.  The Fedora blew from his head, rolling across the rock and grass before it stopped at the feet of a man sharing the view.

“Gotchya,” said the stranger.  He plucked it from the ground and stepped toward Tryton, holding the hat in an outstretched hand.

“Thought I lost it for a moment, there,” Tryton said, planting the hat back on his head.  “Thanks for catching it.”

The stranger was a little younger than Tryton, probably fifty something, and short: probably no taller than five-foot seven, a round face with dark, brown hair of medium length, a friendly smile, and a hell of a strong grip.

They decided to sit and visit on two boulders set back from the wall.  Seth confessed that he was traveling alone with no spouse, children or grandchildren accompanying him.  He was there for a holiday, he said, just to relax and enjoy the North Shore of Minnesota.

“I actually live near here,” said Peter Karonen.  “Up near Finland.”  Tryton cocked his head a little.  Karonen acknowledged the questioning look and said, “It’s a little town inland, not far from Silver Bay.  I come up here often just to look out across the lake.  It always makes me feel alive when I stand—or sit, with the breeze in my face, a memory in my heart… and drink in that.”  He nodded toward the lake.  “Sometimes it’s rough like today, and other times it’s as smooth as a whore’s ass.  It’s like no other place in Minnesota.”

Tryton chuckled at the reference to the whore’s ass.  He’d known a few in his day—long ago.  But he still cherished the memories. They talked on for a while, getting more acquainted, enjoying each other’s company.  Karonen stood, signaling an end to the conversation and began the short walk to his nearby truck.  Tryton followed and opened his car door.

“Hey, if you want to follow me to my place I’ll give you a beer, whiskey, or whatever and I can tell you about some great, out of the way places to visit around here.”

Tryton only hesitated a moment before accepting the offer. He followed Karonen’s truck to Finland.

Gerald Hodges was drying the dishes when his phone rang.  He picked up on the third ring.

“Gerry?” the voice asked.  Hodges recognized Earl Mancoat’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he lied.  “There is no Gerald here.  You have the wrong number.”  He started to hang up.

“No, Gerry, don’t hang up.  It’s Earl, Earl Mancoat.  We gotta talk. Seth Tryton’s missing, maybe killed, maybe murdered.”

The words froze in Hodge’s brain.  Seth, dead?  He brought the phone nearer his better ear.

“I’m listening,” he said.

New stories coming.

I've begun outlining three new stories. The first is a Gerald Hodges novel that will have him investigating the disappearance and possible murder of one of his friends.  It will take place on the North Shore.

The next will be about two, fifty year old friends who begin lamenting the emptiness of their lives and grouse, "Is that all there is", before deciding to set off across the country and the world to do "what they really want to do".

The third novel will be based on a triple murder that took place in Austin, MN in 1937.


Tune in for excerpts.  I will also be posting some short  stories.

Formatting and cover issues are all resolved

Both book formats are available at Amazon.com.  The paperback version is good to go.  Formatting and book cover issues are in the past.

Section of short story submitted for publication- The Wallflower Reunion

He watched in the mirror as the blood followed a slow, convoluted path and dribbled down his neck.  The hand holding the razor froze, as a paralyzing thought pounded his brain.  What if she doesn’t recognize me?  Frightened and horrified, he stood in his underwear and stared into the mirror.  

Moments later, his attention returned to the razor cut dribbling a growing amount of blood onto the soft folds of skin that coursed across his neck.  Rick Steps snatched a wad of toilet paper and dabbed at the blood.  Too much blood.  He collected another wad and pressed it hard against the stinging razor nick, holding it until he thought it would stop bleeding. 

He left a torn sheet of toilet paper stuck to the slit in his neck, knowing from experience it would stanch the flow of blood and allow him to continue shaving.  Negative, troubling thoughts continued to plague him until he finished up, removed the toilet paper, and made sure the wound would not bleed anymore.

The high school reunion dinner would begin at six tonight at the local country club.  Everyone would have to walk up the grand entrance stairs to the upper level where the welcoming committee would be waiting.  Chrissie Manuess would be among them.  

The room was not warm, but a cold sweat broke out, sending rivulets of perspiration running into his eyes  He grabbed a hand towel and pressed it against his face and wiped the sweat from his eyes.

Paperback copies

Paperback copies will be available on Amazon.com by July 24, 2015.  I have been proofing copies along with some other people, including friends and family.  It's amazing to think there could still be typos, spelling, and syntax issues, but, hey, such is the process of producing a book.  Thanks to all the people, especially my wife, Cindy, who have gone over parts of the proof and helped improve the final product.  I greatly appreciate all the effort you put in.

Paperback jacket

It's done!!  The cover is ready and accepted by the publishing house.  I ordered a proof to do a final inspection-should be here Friday.  If everything looks good, I'll give the final go ahead for printing.