8-8-88 (Part 2)

Outside Garnet, MI – August 8, 1988

The small cabin is remote. Down a partially graveled road, tucked back deep within the pines, Dr. Bill wonders how someone could live in such a rugged, dilapidated place. A shingle falls off the roof as they approach, the remaining tabs flutter in greeting. As he steps up on the creaky wooden porch, he notices much of the wood siding is damaged from rot. He’s surprised the windows still have glass in them.

Detective Emmons and Mansfield discuss breaking in as Dr. Bill tries the front door and finds it unlocked.

“Brilliant,” Emmons says. Entering, they find the inside clean, organized, smelling like cinnamon.

“Is this the same place we saw outside?” Mansfield jests. There’s one main room, the walls covered in a pleasant floral wallpaper. The living area contains a small couch and a matching chair. A rustic trunk sits in front of the couch. Nothing on it but a gardening magazine that Dr. Bill recognizes from Tina’s collection.

The kitchen has basic appliances. A small nook has a single chair. On the table is a small bowl with a mesh pouch sitting in it. Dr. Bill looks closer, inhales and realizes it’s a potpourri bag. Besides cinnamon, he can smell orange and possibly nutmeg.

Mansfield opens the fridge and bends down to look inside. “Not much in here. What little there is looks healthy.” he says.

Emmons heads into what appears to be the only other room in the cabin. Dr. Bill looks through kitchen cabinets and drawers hoping to find prenatal vitamins. He discovers a spattering of tableware, and a sparse pantry of food stuff. In one cabinet he discovers several small jars full of dried herbs. Nettle leaf, ginger, and chamomile are the few labels he reads before Emmons steps back into the main area offering them a challenge.

“You guys notice anything missing. Take your time. Check the bedroom and closets before you answer.” She stands to the side with arms crossed over her chest.

Both men enter the small bedroom. A full-size bed is against one wall, nicely made with two pillows and extra blankets folded at the foot. Beside it is a small table with no shelves or drawers, just a small lamp and a box of tissues. In the closet hang a few loose dresses, some plain and flannel shirts, a few pairs of jeans, and a variety of coats and jackets. On the floor are four pairs of small, woman’s shoes and boots.

A set of shelves built into the side hold matching woven baskets containing underwear, rolled t-shirts, socks, and a few items of costume jewelry.

The bathroom has a sink, a toilet, and a bathtub with shower. All clean. The linen closet has a few towels, washcloths, some makeup stuff, a single toothbrush in a cup and a tube of toothpaste. No medicine or first aid supplies.

Back in the main room, Dr. Bill reveals his answer. “First, she lived here alone, and there’s no phone.”

“Oh, I didn’t catch the phone,” Emmons says.

He continues. “There’s nothing here for the baby. No crib, no bassinette, not even a supply of diapers, powders, ointment, or formula. Any woman as far along as she was would already have a stockpile of stuff ready to bring the baby home.”

Emmons gives him her thumbs up. “Maybe she, or the father, have another place nearby. I’m going to call this in on the radio. Get some other badges up here to ask around.” She steps outside as Mansfield continues to search with unfocused effort.

Dr. Bill sits down on the couch.

The father must have his own place, no men’s items here. Was he in the pickup?

Looking at the gardening magazine lying on the trunk, he thinks of his wife, Tina. When she hears about my day, she won’t believe it. Sighing, he picks up the magazine.

The trunk!

Made of well-polished dark wood, the brass latches sit open. Setting the magazine on the couch, Dr. Bill lifts the lid.

“Detective!”

Mansfield walks out of the bedroom to join Dr. Bill on the couch. “Looks like you may have found something, Doc.”

Inside are several boxes stacked on each other. The top one, a shoebox, is labeled in black marker, “FOR THE BOY.”

“Should we look?” Dr. Bill asks, already reaching for the shoebox.

“Let’s see what’s in here.” Mansfield says. “Not like were investigating a murder scene.” The detective lifts the lid on one box and puts a hand on top of the “BOY” box before Dr. Bill can open it. “This may be something else, though.”

Dr. Bill looks down. Uncovered is a box full of stacked, banded ten-dollar bills.

• • •

Discovered is one more box of bills. Emmons, doing a rough count, figures the amount to be around twenty-thousand dollars. Not enough to worry about a huge bank heist, but the banded stacks warrant an investigation.

Waiting for the techs to arrive, Dr. Bill, now wearing latex gloves, looks through a couple of small photo albums found in the trunk. The pictures don’t make much sense. They’re old black and white, or even older sepia prints. Many are scenic: pictures of forests, mountains, oceans or large lakes. Pulling out a few, he finds no notes on the back to identify the locations.

A few old photos of people are at a distance and they’re only pictures of women. Again, no names or dates on the back. None of the women look like Jenny Blatt.

“Here, Doc,” Emmons hands him the box labeled for the boy. “Nothing but a bunch of old toys in there. You find anything worth an ID in the photos?”

“No.” He takes the box. “The pictures are old, and there’s no notes on the back to indicate who or what the photos are about.” As he lifts the lid of the box, he reads “FOR THE BOY” and realizes something.

“Look.” He flips the lid so Emmons can read it. “You might check local ob/gyns to see if she’s a registered patient. She knew it was a boy, so she probably had a sonogram done at an office or hospital.”

“I knew bringing you along was a good idea. Thanks, Doc.”

Dr. Bill looks inside the “BOY” box. A couple of old rattles, a stack of rubber rings, little teething toys, and an assortment of wooden blocks mixed with plastic toys. Scooting the items around, he finds a small troll doll, naked with a big mop of red hair.

Holding the little toy in the palm of his hand, the hair reminds him of the boy and his mother. Something they have, or had, in common. Without thinking, he puts the doll in his pants pocket.

“Some utility bills, old grocery lists, and a few receipts from stores located in Garnet, there are no records, files, or even a phone to look for calls. Jenny Blatt is a mystery unto herself, Doc,” Emmons says, driving Dr. Bill back to his car. “The only thing she left behind is that baby you rescued.”

Dr. Bill considers driving back to the resort for the evening, but decides to drive to the hospital to check on the boy.

In the viewing room, the newborns lay swaddled in warming bassinets. The boy, being so large, lies in a crib. Dr. Bill looks through the glass, his eyes stare deeply at the sleeping infant he saved as he grips the little gnome in his pocket. Thoughts race through his mind, then slam into a decision.

• • •

Back at the resort, Dr. Bill tells a conference coordinator and a couple of the doctors he’d met earlier what happened. Feigning fatigue, he rushes to his room to call Tina.

Rushing through the day’s events, Tina is speechless with each bit of news.

“Tina, I’ve got a good feeling about this boy. He’s special.” At the hospital, Dr. Bill fostered an idea he continued to build on while driving back to call her. Phone in one hand, the little gnome in the other, he blurts it out.

“If the authorities can’t find any relatives, I think we should adopt him.”

Tina gasps on the other end of the line. “Bill, we’ve talked about adoption, but what if… we don’t know…” Her words are as fragmented as her thoughts.

“Shoot, Tina, I already feel like the Lady of the Lake gave him to us, like Excalibur. Something very magical about that moment he floated up and bumped into my face.” His thoughts focus on the stare down he had with those green eyes.

A long pause on the other end, Bill is about to add more justification, but Tina says it all. “Well then, I better get up there and see him.”

She catches the last flight to Michigan. Dr. Bill meets her at the airport with open arms. They both cry as they hug, kiss, and start talking about what if’s.

• • •

Tina’s a woman who hauls bags of dirt and compost, loads bulk sacks and bushels, so picking up a twelve-pound baby is no problem. Dr. Bill is already a hero at the hospital, word spread quickly, so visiting the baby after hours is overlooked. The nurses let them hold the boy in a private waiting room.

Tina falls in love with the boy immediately. “He’s a perfect angel, Bill.”

August 9, 1988

Tina insists Bill finish his symposium while she, using the car, would get things moving on the adoption. In the morning, she finds an adoption attorney, Jean Garlowe, to represent them in court. They both ask lots of questions and give each other the best answers possible.

That afternoon, Tina meets Detective Emmons at a coffee shop to get an update on the investigation.

“It’s only been a day, but so far no one knows much about her. People questioned in and around Garnet know she showed up at the beginning of the year, rented the cabin, and would drive into town to buy stuff.” Emmons, impressed by the doctor’s wife, thinks Tina seems more inclined to jump off a bridge and save a baby than her husband.

“What about a husband. Or, I guess, a boyfriend?” Tina, with a new spiral notebook, makes a checkmark on a page. Previous pages are filled from her meeting with the lawyer.

“No one saw her with anyone. Owner of the small grocery she shopped at mentioned that she had an Irish or Scottish accent, wasn’t sure he could tell the difference. By her fourth or fifth visit, after the weather warmed up and layers of coats shed, he noticed she was pregnant.” Emmons smirks. “Claimed a beautiful redhead like that, talking with a lilting voice, and pregnant, it didn’t take long for locals to start talking. Most everyone else, if they tried to chat her up, say she was quiet, and would politely excuse herself.”

“Strange,” Tina says, “and so far, you’ve found nothing else about her? Anywhere?”

“Again, just getting started. But no, no records of a Jenny Blatt. Landlord never considered to check her out, said she paid for a year in advance, plus deposit. She had car insurance, a driver’s license, but no bank account, no P.O. Box, no history of anything. She paid cash for everything. With her accent, probably gotta look across the Atlantic. Too many missing pieces to do simple paperwork and call it a day. Plus, as I’m sure your husband told you, the general weirdness gives me a brain cramp.”

“Weirdness?” Tina asks.

Emmons tells her the oddities. When Tina tells her that Bill never mentioned any of that, she replies, “well, your husband was focused on the boy’s welfare. He musta forgotten the rest.”

• • •

“What else did you fail to tell me?” Tina sits on the edge of the bed. Dr. Bill, having started this conversation while taking a shower, is trying to dry off to finish it.

“That’s pretty much it, hon. The accident seems impossible. The lack of damage to the pickup. The Blatt woman showed no sign of expecting to bring home a baby, except for that box I told you about.” He points to the troll doll sitting by his billfold on the dresser. “I think that’s it.” He wraps the towel around his hips. “And, in my opinion, that’s all police business.”

“You don’t think it’s strange?”

“Of course I do, but again, it doesn’t concern us. And if it eventually does, well… then, we’ll deal with it. Right now, I want to hear about your meeting with the lawyer.”

August 11, 1988

The lawyer, Jean Garlowe, worked a miracle. The afternoon before the symposium is over, the Woods meet her at the courthouse for a session with a judge. They’re excited, thinking they may have a new son to bring home.

“I understand your enthusiasm, but the police are still trying to find relatives to the woman,” she pauses to look at her notes, “Miss Blatt.”

Garlowe presents the judge with records on the boy from the hospital. All positive. Notes from police interviews about Dr. Bill and his heroic efforts. Very impressive, plus the judge already read the article in the Mackinac Island Town Crier. Her report includes a brief on the investigation into Jenny Blatt. Very strange. And finally, based on Garlowe’s interview with Tina, she gives a thorough background into the Woods—financially, professionally, philanthropically—details the judge needs to consider for the petition to adopt.

The judge asks questions. The Woods answer. The lawyer explains the court’s considerations discussed. Finally, the judge delivers his ruling.

“It is the decision of this court that Dr. and Mrs. Wood be granted temporary foster care of the boy…” the judge looks down at the papers. “Does this child have a name?”

“‘The boy’ is fine your honor,” Dr. Bill says.

“Angel,” Tina says.

The judge continues. “…the boy. Until such time the investigation finds a relative or legal guardian authorized to take custody. During this period, you are required to live within the state of Michigan with the boy. No traveling out of state. Is that understood?”

The Woods say, “yes, your Honor.”

“Once said investigation is complete, depending on the results, you will either be authorized to drop your petition for adoption, or permitted to pursue it. Is that understood?”

Again, “yes, your Honor.”

The gavel hits with solid resolve.

August 12 – 18, 1988

Dr. Bill takes another week off from work. His office staff is more than happy to make the adjustments needed with his patients. Tina has a friend in Grand Rapids that helps them find a furnished apartment to live in.

After signing the month-to-month lease, Tina and her friend go shopping for the apartment. Dr. Bill returns the rental and buys Tina a new van, then proceeds to shop and fill it with everything the baby will need. Back at the apartment he starts putting furniture together.

Tina is too thrilled to make a fuss when she gets back. She grabs tools and the two of them enjoy the moment together. They listen to classic rock and drink cheap red wine while trying to read instructions and assemble furniture designed by rocket scientists.

She laughs at the newborn diapers he bought.

“I don’t think these are going to fit around his butt. But you’re the doctor!”

The next morning, on the drive to Mackinaw City to pick up the baby, they decide not to name the boy until they know the adoption is official. They know this little dream may not end well. So, to enjoy the moment, they decide to forgo that small bit of familiarity—if only to keep it from turning into a nightmare later.

The hospital staff congratulate the Woods, wishing them the best of luck. One nurse helps Dr. Bill install the baby’s seat in the van, which causes a fit of laughter when he begins to voice worry that the boy won’t fit.

Returning to Grand Rapids, Tina rides in the back seat telling her husband everything the baby is doing. When things get quiet, he looks back to see them both asleep, Tina with her head against the car seat and her arm draped across the child’s lap.

Dr. Bill calls him, “the boy,” or “big guy,” but never “son.”  Even though the word slips out when he gets excited. Tina calls him, “angel.”

Making sure Tina and the baby are settled into the apartment, Dr. Bill flies back to Colorado Springs to work. He visits every weekend, packing Tina’s minor clothing requests with every trip.

November 14, 1988

The court notifies the Wood’s lawyer that it has reached a decision. What the final verdict is, not even their lawyer, Jean Garlowe, can say. The appointment to hear the ruling is in two days.

Dr. Bill takes time off from work and flies up to Michigan the next morning. They spend the chilly day strolling in a park and talking. Their conversations are positive, if not forced at times to be so. The baby falls asleep between them in the bed that night.

In the morning, they drive up to Mackinaw City and meet Garlowe in the chilly courthouse parking lot. Anticipation clawing their nerves, they step before the same judge they met in August.

“Dr. and Mrs. Wood, after three months of investigation, the court finds no record of Jenny Blatt in the States, nor internationally,” saying this, the judge relaxes, pushes his glasses down to look up from the paperwork and smile at the Woods. “So, of course, trying to find any living relative is impossible. The woman is a complete mystery. And trying to determine who the father is, well, that’s beyond impossible. Just so you know, the police authorized another dive in the area where the pickup sank hoping to find his body. No success.”

Dr. Bill remembers his dive in the great lake. Remembers the darkness and the cold water, and can’t imagine what those depths must look or feel like now. It sends a chill up his spine.

Pushing his glasses back up, the judge spends a moment trying to find his place on the page. He mumbles through some official verbiage, then smiles again to say with genuine enthusiasm, “it is the decision of this court that you may proceed with the adoption. Congratulations.”

After a celebratory dinner with Garlowe, much of it spent discussing formalities, the Woods, all three of them, get at hotel room. The next day is spent filling out bothersome paperwork, visiting a local doctor to examine the boy for his official wellbeing check, then drive back to Grand Rapids to start packing.

Their lawyer calls them the next afternoon to let them know that everything is ready to file and submit, then they’re free to start their new life together as a family.

“There’s only one thing left, though, that I need before I can send these out. What are you going to name the baby? I need a name to make it official.”

The Woods, sharing the phone’s earpiece to listen, look at each other with dumbfounded expression.

“We’ll call you back,” Dr. Bill says. Jean Garlowe is laughing as he hangs up.

They both look at the boy, playing on a mat next to the couch.

“Tina, my love, I think this is your decision.”

“It’s our decision, Bill, but with everything going on with Daddy back home,” Tina pauses, thinking about the talk with her father earlier that day, “I think it would give him such a lift to name his only grandson after him.”

“Travis?” Dr. Bill says, then again while looking at the baby. “Travis. Yeah, I like it. Better than my dad’s name. Bob. Bobby. Bobert. Travis has definite character.” Looking back at Tina, Dr. Bill smiles. “I think that’s great. He sure did want to fly up here with me.”

“I know. He told me. But this whole real estate deal with the Crystal Heights people has turned into such a weird cluster fuck.”

“Tina!” Dr. Bill says, smiling at his wife’s annual use of a swear word.

She smiles back with a dimple of mischief attached to the grin. “Oops. Can’t talk that way around Travis.”

“It would be awful if Travis picked up on it and made it his first word,” Dr. Bill jokes back. They both get on the floor and crawl over to their new baby boy, saying “Travis, Travis, Travis.” Two big green eyes look up from the stuffed mountain lion they’re looking at. A big, toothless smile adorns his lips, a string of drool falls as the cuddles begin.

Dr. Bill has the van packed by midnight. They leave the next morning.

The drive back to Colorado is on Highway Cloud Nine.

“You know,” Tina says from the back seat, “I’m amazed how easy the adoption went. People were telling me that even if we got approved it would take weeks before we could actually take him home.”

“I guess having a hero for a father cuts through the red tape,” Dr. Bill says. They both laugh.

“But don’t you think it was a bit too easy?”

Dr. Bill looks down in the cup holder. Laying on its back is the little red-haired troll he took for Travis. He thought about everything that happened on that day in August. The accident, the jump, the dive, bumping into Travis. The body of Travis’s dead mother on the barge, visiting her lonely cabin in the pines only to find this one little toy to remember her by.

One day, he’ll want to learn about her. All adopted kids do. Only, with Jenny Blatt, there’s nothing to know.

Then he remembers Tina holding Travis for the first time in the hospital. The look on her face, the joy in both their hearts. He sighs with happiness.

“Tina,” Dr. Bill says, paying attention to the road again. “With everything that’s happened, as far as I’m concerned, this was simply meant to be.”

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