The Strange Case of Baby H Read Online Free Page B

awkwardly.
    The baby let out a shrill cry.
    â€œNoisy little fellow, and grimy as all get-out,” Father remarked. “Been out in the soot and rubble.”
    â€œPerhaps his parents were victims of the fire,” murmured Miss DuBois. “Poor darling.”
    â€œNo doubt someone who knows what a fine boarding establishment Mrs. Curfman runs left him for you to find,” said Geoffrey Midgard gallantly.
    â€œBut why not just bring him to us in person?” Clara asked, frowning. “It seems strange.”
    â€œI don’t think it’s strange at all,” Mother replied, lifting the baby back into her arms and cuddling him close. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways, my girl. Here we are, lacking a son. And here is this lad, lacking parents. And him with such a look of Gideon about him! It’s fair amazing, that’s what it is. Frederick, don’t you agree?” She appealed again to Father. “It’s Providence, that’s what it is.”
    Father grunted. He reached out and took a slice of cake.
    Mother reached out a finger and traced the baby’s cheek. “We will take care of him, of course. People have to help each other out in times of trouble.”
    â€œYou’re a good woman, Mrs. Curfman,” said Miss Chandler.
    Mother handed the baby over to Clara with a sigh. “Take him indoors and clean him up, best you can, Clara. Find him something clean to wear. But don’t stay indoors long. It’ll be getting dark soon, and we mustn’t light lamps in the house.”
    Clara climbed the ramp with the baby in her arms. She carried him up to her sunporch and laid him on her bed.
    Then she smiled down at the squirming infant. “Can you sit up on your own, little fellow?” She pulled him to a sitting position and steadied him with a hand on his back. He managed alone for a few seconds, then toppled backward onto the pillow with a chortle.
    â€œWell,” Clara told him, “I’m glad you can find something to laugh about. Because whatever happened to you today certainly looks to be more terrible than what has happened to us. But don’t worry, little one. You’ve got a home here now.”
    The baby stared up at her with dark eyes. He had no hair at all, so his dark eyebrows and lashes seemed even more pronounced.
    â€œYou’ll have dark hair when it finally does begin to grow,” she told the baby, running her hand over the bald head—then she paused, perplexed. Instead of smooth skin against her palm, she felt the rasp of bristles.
    She sat the baby up and bent closer to examine his head. She noticed a scrape at the back of his neck like the ones Gideon had on his chin when he’d practiced shaving with Father’s straight razor. “For goodness sakes!” she exclaimed. “You’re not naturally bald at all—someone has shaved your head!” What a strange thing to do to a little fellow , she thought.
    She unfastened the dirty, poorly fitting sailor suit. The child’s flannel diaper was sodden. Clara unpinned the diaper—then stopped. “And you’re not even a little fellow!” she cried out in surprise. “You’re a bald-headed baby girl !”
    The baby stared up at her solemnly. Clara stared back at the baby, at the sailor suit and flannel she’d just removed, at the bristly shaven head. She felt a strange little prickle of unease at the back of her neck.
    Why would anyone shave a baby girl’s head, and dress her in boys’ clothing?
    It was almost as if … as if the baby were in disguise .

C HAPTER 4
    P IECES OF A P UZZLE

    Thoughts in a whirl, Clara tugged open her top dresser drawer and pulled out a soft cotton chemise. Folded, it would work as a diaper for the baby. But what might work as a dress? Her eye fell on Delilah—on Delilah’s poor headless body. The doll wore a pretty, flower-sprigged dress that Mother had sewn several years