The Real Mother

By Candace Greene

As a nanny for Miller and Carolyn Johnson in Los Angeles, Mexican-born Ehrlinda loves Kira as if the four-month-old child is her own. When Kira is kidnapped, Ehrlinda grieves as much as the babys parents. Authorities are certain that Kira was taken by Courtney Revell, the New York City woman who became the egg donor when Carolyn, a busy advertising executive, was not able to conceive on her own.
After the kidnapping, Ehrlinda has dreams that Kira has been taken to Mexico. When they become too powerful to ignore, she persuades Carolyn to travel to Mexico to look for Kira. Together, the two women search a number of Mexican cities for the baby with the beautiful round face and blonde curls.
During the journey, the two women each come to terms with their own motherhoodEhrlinda, who lost a child to miscarriage after being beaten, and Carolyn, who lost Kira to kidnapping. Together, they discover what it means to be a real mother.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475975185

Candace Greene

Candace Greene has studied fiction writing through courses at UCLA, Centrum, Flathead Authors in Montana, Port Townsend in Washington, and at the University of Iowa. She has worked in public relations in consumer electronics and video gaming for more than twenty years. She currently lives in Washington State.

Book preview

Chapter 1

October, 1998

Five Months Earlier

THEY COULDN’T FIND the baby in Mexico, not in sparkling hotels or in dark convent orphanages. They showed the baby’s picture to las turistas and los Mexicanos , the baby with her beautiful round face and blonde curls, curls never cut.

The little blue taxi followed the curved road around the bay toward the Acapulco Aeropuerto. Ehrlinda looked out the window at the wide, white beach and the green mountains and wished Senora Carolyn would take her hand, as she had many times during the search. But Senora Carolyn did not say a word. Nada.

Ehrlinda knew exactly what the older woman must be thinking: my nanny is loca to listen to her silly dreams, and I was stupid to follow her to Mexico. And Ehrlinda had to agree. Maybe it would be best if she stayed here, in the land of her birth. Back in Los Angeles, no one would hire her, not as a nanny, not even to scrub their floors and wash dirty laundry. Senora would tell people that Ehrlinda was a person who listens to dreams, that Ehrlinda had tricked her into a free trip to Mexico to search for a lost baby. She would tell people that Ehrlinda was a fool.

Ehrlinda’s worry quickly expanded from her forlorn self to what Senora would say about her people. Perhaps Senora would say that Mexicanos do nothing but dream and drink and follow superstitions. She would talk about the poverty in the villages, and Ehrlinda’s Tia Maria, who was too poor to serve bacon for breakfast. Mexicanos are a joke, Senora Carolyn would say, the joke of America del Norte.

As the cab bounced along the bumpy, Mexican road, Ehrlinda’s mind snapped back to Baby Kiki. She remembered how her own baby died and knew she couldn’t let anything happen to Baby Kiki. Ehrlinda might not have been able to find the baby, but she could keep Senora safe, even if Senora hated her now. And she would be there, in Senora’s home, in case Baby Kiki returned, so that she could touch Kiki’s soft, blonde hair; hair as soft as the fuzz on a new baby chick, and hold Baby Kiki in her arms once again. That is why Ehrlinda would return to Los Angeles.

Chapter 2

The Guest

May 1998

EHRLINDA WAS ON her way to church when she felt someone’s eyes on her. She looked behind her but saw nothing unusual, just other nannies on their way to Saint Bridgitte’s for the noon Mass. It was early May and she couldn’t understand why she felt so dark when the flowers were blooming all around her.

After church she felt the same sense of someone watching her, but again no one was there. That night before bed, Ehrlinda double checked the lock on the door. Her hands shook as she reached up to click the lock back and forth. Ehrlinda had never been afraid in her apartment and could not understand what was causing the fear.

She finally fell asleep that night only to wake with the sense that something heavy sat on her chest. There was nothing there but she had to fix a cup of her dark green, sleep tea before she slept again.

Monday morning came too soon for Ehrlinda after that strange weekend and she had to rush to be ready for her job with Baby Kiki, or Kira as her family had named her. Only Ehrlinda called her Kiki.

Ehrlinda held her breath and thought maybe something was missing. La Senora might think she had stolen it. Her patrona’s voice could sting.

A good friend is coming next week and we need the house to be extra clean and the guest room especially, Senora Carolyn said. Her name is Courtney and I’m very excited about her visit. She’s never met Kira.

"Si, Senora. I will make it nice for Senora Courtney," Ehrlinda answered, relieved that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

"She’s still a Senorita," la patrona said, pulling at a strand of her blonde hair. She lives in New York City, and I might as well tell you that she’s more than just a friend.

"Si, Senora, Ehrlinda said. She is a relative."

No, Carolyn snapped. She’s the reason we have Kira.

Ehrlinda had heard of women healers from Mexico. When a couple could not have a baby of their own, these women would feed them herbs to help them get pregnant. She’s a healer? Ehrlinda asked.

No, Carolyn answered in a voice that sounded irritable and nervous at the same time. She was actually our egg donor.

Ehrlinda wondered what on earth this meant. She knew Senora wasn’t talking about a dozen eggs, and it was clear that Senora meant for Ehrlinda to say something. Senora was staring at her, waiting for her to speak. "I’m sorry, Senora. I don’t understand," Ehrlinda finally said.

I couldn’t have a baby because I was in early menopause when Miller and I got married. So, I met Courtney and she offered to let us use her eggs to have a baby. We paid her for the privilege. It’s a new high tech medical process that’s only a few years old. It was a miracle.

"Gracias a Dios," Ehrlinda said. And she meant it. But since Carolyn had not yet reached out to take her baby, Ehrlinda wondered if Carolyn really understood what a miracle meant.

So you understand why I want the house perfect, Carolyn said. I want everything to be perfect. I’ll leave extra money to buy some things from Larchmont Village. Maybe pick up some of those no sugar chocolates from the bakery.

"Si, Senora," Ehrlinda said, but wondered who wanted chocolate without sugar. It was to Ehrlinda like a quesadilla without queso, or a palete con coco without the coconut. There were many things about Americans she did not understand.

Oh, and just before Courtney gets here, get flowers. Lots of roses, Senora said.

Ehrlinda took note of all the things her boss asked, but in her mind she thought, Is the queen coming, or the mother of her child? All day long, as she began to clean the house, and played with Kiki, she kept wondering about those eggs. If the egg that grew into Kiki came from this Senorita Courtney, wouldn’t Courtney be the mother? And if Senora Carolyn went to such lengths to have baby Kiki, why did she rush off to work every day, leaving Ehrlinda to love her baby? Occasionally, Ehrlinda would stop her work and rub her temples. And the question that most often came into her mind was this: Did loving the child so much somehow make Ehrlinda the real mother?

Chapter 3

The Park

KIKI HAD HER mother’s blonde hair, but Ehrlinda wondered what color her boss’s hair really was. La Senora had dark eyebrows that curved over her gray-green eyes, but her hair was a shiny blonde. Ehrlinda thought the blonde might be helped with a bottle of bleach.

Can I help you? You want me to make your lunch? Sometimes La Senora had Ehrlinda make a turkey and lettuce sandwich and pack some carrot sticks and a bottle of water. Ehrlinda wondered why she starved on such a small lunch. Senora always put the lunch in her black leather bag that was her briefcase, nothing like what her husband carried to work. It was soft and very large, like a huge purse with straps that fit over her shoulder.

Senora did not need help, and when she left for work that morning, Ehrlinda carried Kiki upstairs.

Come, little princess, she cooed to the baby, What do you want to wear today?

The May day was beautiful, clear and warm, but not hot. Jacaranda trees were just bursting into lovely periwinkle blossoms, May’s gift to the city. Some days in Los Angeles the temperature was perfect, like Ehrlinda imagined the air in Heaven. She could lie on top of her bed and feel neither hot nor cold. It was air so neutral that it didn’t distract from thoughts or dreams.

That day Ehrlinda chose a light blue dress with baby kittens sewn into the fabric for Kiki. After changing her diaper, she dressed the baby in a soft white cotton undershirt in case the dress scratched. Then, blue socks for her feet —feet with tiny toes always flirting for kisses.

After Kiki was dressed, Ehrlinda packed the diaper bag with rattles, spit-up cloths, extra diapers, wipes, and baby powder, then put Kiki and all her things in the stroller. Most Mexican mothers carried only their breasts and a couple of cloths, but Ehrlinda was learning what American mothers did. She had to do this to keep her job. She started the day’s first load of laundry and collected Senora’s clothes to take to the dry cleaner on Larchmont Street. They advertised French cleaning. She never understood what that meant, except that it must be better than in-home Mexican laundry since it cost so much money.

She carried Kiki in the stroller. The sun met them and Kiki started laughing, reminding Ehrlinda of the sound the creek behind her house in Mexico made after the rain. They watched old women and young runners pass the house. They all smiled at them, and Ehrlinda and the baby smiled back.

They walked to the Larchmont Cleaners and then met Ehrlinda’s amiga, Rosa, at Park La Brea, a park named after a busy Los Angeles street.

Like Ehrlinda, Rosa had grown up in Oaxaca, a large state in Mexico with many very small villages where perhaps 500 people lived, mostly old. There were many such small villages in Mexico, growing smaller as young people migrated to the United States. But in Los Angeles, being from Oaxaca, and both looking after baby girls, made Rosa and Ehrlinda practically like sisters. The two women took care of each other when necessary. Once when Ehrlinda had the flu, Rosa went to the pharmacy and brought medicine. She sat by Ehrlinda’s bed for two days making her drink water and sip soup and wiping her forehead with a cool, wet cloth until the fever broke.

Rosa worked for a rich family who had a baby girl named Valerie who was almost eight-months-old. Valerie’s smile was crooked, and all of her hair had not come in yet. She reminded Ehrlinda of a baby bird waiting for its feathers. Rosa wanted to wear a uniform because she thought that would mean she worked for a very powerful and wealthy family, but Ehrlinda was the one who had to wear a blue and white cotton dress that was scratchy and too hard to keep clean. The one thing Ehrlinda liked was that it made her short arms look longer and a little like polished mahogany, but for the most part, she hated that uniform – and Rosa envied it.

Hola, little Kiki, Rosa called as they approached the park.

And how are you today, Senorita Valerie? Ehrlinda said, expecting no answer except the baby’s crooked little smile.

The women pushed their two happy ninas around the park so the babies could look at the grass and flowers as bright as circus balloons. Rosa loved to joke that Los Angeles watered a single park enough to give a bath to all the people in two Oaxaca villages. People came here to see the marigolds and roses and didn’t realize they were forced from what had been desert soil. Silver sprinklers ran every morning and afternoon, shooting rainbows of spray on thirsty plants to keep them beautiful all through the dry summer. The flowers in Los Angeles are a dream that evaporated in the heat of the noonday sun.

After circling the park a couple of times, Rosa pulled out an old patchwork quilt stored in a basket behind Valerie’s stroller, and spread it on the grass, in their usual spot near the fountain.

How many times a week do you wash that quilt? Ehrlinda asked in Spanish. I never see grass or baby stains on it.

Rosa knew enough English to keep her job, but she was not interested in practicing the language with other nannies. Every day, she said, and sat down on the quilt next to Valerie.

Ahh, Rosa said. "It feels so good to sit. Between La Senora and Valerie, I haven’t even stopped for a drink of water today." She ran her fingers through her short American haircut. Rosa had no interest in the language, but she loved having her black hair styled like some of the American ladies.

Living in the United States for more than ten years taught Ehrlinda to appreciate some American customs, but she could never cut her own hair. Not a real cut. Si, washing it and waiting for it to dry took work. If she pinned it up wet, it weighed her head down. But without her hair, she would feel naked and not like a woman.

In Mexico, a female child’s hair was not cut because it