The baby

Ms. Pearl Johnson stood on the front steps of her Brooklyn foster care home and stared down in shock. It would be a moment before confusion, anger, and finally, grim acceptance contorted her smooth brown features, but for now, open mouthed shock was all that she registered.
At her feet was a bassinet, and in the bassinet was a sleeping baby, no more than a few months old, peacefully wrapped in a vibrant blue shawl. An envelope was tucked by the infants side and a small brown stuffed giraffe lay by her head.
Ms. Johnson shook her head as confusion took over. She peered intently into the darkness around her stoop. in the 5 seconds it took her to rummage in her purse for her keys, the baby had silently appeared behind her. This late on a Sunday night, the street was deserted. She held her breath and listened, but the only sounds were the whistling of the wind and the beating of her own heart in her ears.
Glancing down, confusion made way for anger. It certainly wasn't the first time a baby and been abandoned on her steps and it wouldn't be the last. While the child was better off here than in a dumpster or on the streets, she still felt that quick flash of anger for the system, the society, and the foolishness of the parents responsible that made her doorstep what was probably this baby's best option.
Pursing her lips in grim acceptance, she shoved her pocketbook up on her shoulder and leaned down to gently pick up the bassinet. Carefully balancing it in one hand, Ms Johnson opened the door, spared one last glance for the darkness around her doorstep, and shuffled inside.

Two doors down, concealed behind a trashcan and shrouded in shadows, a tall man dressed all in black felt his heart shatter with the click of Ms. Johnson's lock. His role in this adventure seemed to be over, although the adventure itself seemed to be just beginning. He'd become quite attached to the precious bundle he's just delivered, but the little girl was safer here than she could be anywhere else.
He studied the house for a moment, then pressed his wrists together before holding his left one over his heart. He bowed his head reverently, then, as quietly as he came, slipped away.

Inside the house, Ms. Johnson tiptoed down the hall and praised god for the relative silence she found within. In the den to her left, she could see 4 or 5 of her older charges watching TV through the frosted glass. She pursed her lips. At 11:00 on a school night? She'd deal with that later. Quietly, she shuffled past the kitchen, empty and clean save for the half-heartedly cleared mess left over from dinner, and finally, at the end of the narrow hall, unlocked the door to her office and squeezed through with her bulky load.
Once inside, she gently set the basket down on her couch, turned on the light and shrugged off her coat. Pulling up a chair, she sat down to take a closer look.
The baby was tiny. Younger than she initially thought. She was a beautiful golden milk chocolate color with long curling eyelashes and what looked like a head full of soft black hair under a vibrant blue cap that matched the shall. She was beautiful. Strikingly so.
Gently, Ms. Johnson pulled the shall down and started to lift the baby up, but stopped short when she saw the fresh-looking bandages wrapped around the baby's tiny wrists. Beneath her little palms, the pristine white was marred by spots of blood that had begun to seep through. She narrowed her eyes in anger. When she drew her hands back, they brushed the envelope and, hands shaking, she pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a piece of paper and a key.
She read the piece of paper, stared, then read it again. It wasn't until she suddenly gasped for air that she realized she'd been holding her breath. The paper only had 3 lines. Her name : Ms. Pearl Olivia Johnson, and an address. The address was for a bank, and the key, she realized with a gasp, was for a lockbox. She stared again at the peacefully sleeping little girl and trembling, got up to call the proper authorities.


To be continued... this is just an opening... not exactly sure what is going to happen next...