Waiting for Baby. Cathy McDavid

traveled the short hall that opened into the main recreational room. There was, as usual, a flurry of activity and a cacophony of noisy chatter. She was stopped frequently—by both clients and staff members—on the way to her office, located near the main entrance.

      “Lilly, Mrs. Vega has taken the TV remote again and refuses to tell me where she’s hidden it.”

      “Try looking in the microwave.”

      “M-M-Miss R-R-Rus-s-so. S-s-see wh-what I d-d-draw.”

      “Very nice, Samuel.”

      “The soda machine is out of Pepsi again.”

      “You know you’re not supposed to drink caffeine, Mr. Lindenford. It makes you agitated.”

      And on it went.

      Lilly’s official title was administrator, which involved running the office, supervising the personnel, maintaining the financial records and overseeing customer relations. Some days, however, she felt more like a babysitter. Not that she minded.

      Lilly no sooner reached the entrance to her office door and sighed with relief when she was stopped yet again.

      “Is it true we’re picking up the mule tomorrow?”

      She spun around. “Jimmy Bob, where did you hear that?”

      The young man hung his head in shame. “Georgina told me.”

      He was lying. They both knew it. Like many people with Down’s syndrome, Jimmy Bob was a sweet, kind soul with boundless energy and a quick, hearty laugh. He was also a chronic eavesdropper, sneaking quietly up and listening to conversations that weren’t any of his business. Because it was impossible for him to keep a secret, he always confessed what he’d heard, usually in the form of a lie so as not to implicate himself. Fortunately, he was also very likeable.

      Lilly took pity on him. His woe-is-me expression never failed to win her over despite resolutions to the contrary.

      “Sucker,” she mumbled under her breath, then said out loud, “We hope to be able to pick up the mule tomorrow. We’re not sure yet.”

      “When will we be sure?”

      A glance at the phone on her desk and the glaring absence of a flashing red message light made her heart sink. Jake still hadn’t called. Was he avoiding her? Had the family rejected her plan, and he was trying to think of an easy way to let her down?

      “I don’t know, Jimmy Bob. By the end of today, maybe, if all goes well.”

      His face broke into an enormous grin, his earlier shame evidently forgotten. “Can I ride him tomorrow? I’m a good rider. Ask my mom. She took me riding at the ranch. You know, the one with the big white barn.” He started whistling an off key rendition of the theme to Bonanza.

      Bear Creek Ranch had a red barn. Jimmy Bob must be referring to Wintergreen Riding Stables, which were located about a mile outside town heading toward Phoenix.

      “If we get the mule and if your mother agrees, you can ride him. But that won’t be tomorrow, honey.”

      Jimmy Bob stopped whistling and his enormous smile collapsed.

      “Maybe by Friday.” She patted a cheek that bore severe acne scars along with the slightest hint of facial hair. “I promise, when we finally take our first trip to see the mule, you’ll go with us.”

      She meant what she’d said. If Jake agreed, they would need their more able-bodied clients to keep Horizon’s end of the bargain. Jimmy Bob wasn’t only enthusiastic, he was strong and fit and cooperative. Other clients, like Samuel, weren’t capable of performing any chores but would be able to interact with the mule, possibly ride it while being led around a ring.

      Jimmy Bob’s smile showed signs of reemerging.

      “Would you do me a favor?” Lilly asked.

      He bobbed his head.

      “Go to the supply closet and bring me a ream of paper, okay?”

      He shot off to do her bidding. Lilly didn’t really need a ream of paper. She had two stacked beside her printer from previous attempts to distract Jimmy Bob.

      Sitting at her desk, she debated placing another call to Jake and was startled when the phone rang. It was answered by Gayle who was currently manning the welcome desk in the main room. The four to five caregivers always on duty took turns at the desk, rotating every hour or so. Ten seconds later when the caller wasn’t put through to her, Lilly gave up hope that it was Jake.

      She lifted a manila folder from a wire rack on the corner of her desk and withdrew the monthly bank statements. Normally, she could reconcile a bank statement in her sleep, but today the numbers refused to add up. Her chronic indigestion wasn’t helping matters. How long until those damn antacids kicked in?

      How long until Jake called?

      Lilly jumped to her feet. It wasn’t quite lunchtime, but she couldn’t tolerate the waiting anymore. A break from the center might be the perfect remedy to settle her nerves. She stopped at the welcome desk to inform Gayle that she was leaving.

      But Gayle forestalled her. “Any chance you can postpone lunch a few minutes?”

      “Why?” Lilly inquired.

      She inclined her head in the direction of the front door. Lilly turned to see Jake striding across the room straight toward her.

      JAKE SENSED every pair of eyes on him but he didn’t react.

      Activity and chatter ceased by degrees until the hiss of a wheelchair-bound woman’s portable oxygen tank was the only sound in the room. Three people abruptly leapt out of their seats to trail his every move, like predators stalking prey. He looked behind him and smiled. One of the trio, a young man, smiled back. The other two glared openly. Jake was an experienced businessman and accustomed to holding his own under pressure. But for some reason, his confidence wavered, and he didn’t like it.

      “Good morning, Lilly,” he said when he reached her.

      “Hi, Jake.”

      “Are you all right?”

      “I’m fine.”

      She didn’t appear fine. Fatigue shadowed her eyes and when she first caught sight of him, her cheeks had paled. Shock at seeing him? He supposed he should have called first. But the family trust attorney’s office was only a few minutes away, and since a signature was required on the contract, Jake had decided to stop in and deliver it in person.

      His self-appointed security detail crowded in around them. Jake shifted, resisting the urge to tug on his suddenly tight shirt collar. If Lilly noticed, she gave no indication.

      “Is there somewhere we can talk?” Glancing around, he added, “Alone.”

      “Come with me.” She motioned for him to follow. His security detail came, too. Once he and Lilly had crossed the threshold into her office, she informed the group to “Wait here” and shut the door on their unhappy faces. “Sorry,” she told Jake. “New visitors always create a stir. They weren’t intentionally ganging up on you.”

      “No problem.” When she didn’t stop scrutinizing him, he added, “Really.”

      “Don’t be embarrassed. Special-needs individuals often make people feel ill at ease.”

      “I’m not ill at ease.”

      She didn’t believe him. He could tell by her narrowed eyes.

      Could it be true? Jake didn’t consider himself a snob but the fact was, he’d had little interaction with “special-needs” people other than his grandfather. Jake had been away at college during most of Grandpa Walter’s decline and, as a result, missed the worst of it.

      “I’m—” he started to say ignorant then changed it to “—inexperienced.”

      “You’re