Free No One But You by Michelle Monkou

his vantage point from the stairway and eased his way onto the landing to stand next to Sara. He’d seen Sara angry, but not like this. There was a quiet fury that permeated her tight-lipped expression.
    The woman was dark-skinned, with a medium build, and her hair was in an untidy ponytail. She clutched a white tissue in one hand, while the other hand played with keys. She looked a few years younger than Sara. The baby, now awake, began to squirm. Jackson touched Sara’s elbow to let her know that he was by her side. He couldn’t determine if this woman was family or friend. One thing was certain, she was not welcomed.
    Sara appreciated Jackson’s presence. He provided a warm comfort for the iciness that had wrapped around her limbs and extremities. After a long drive, she barely had the energy to deal with anything out of the ordinary. Yet, life continued to test her. This was the same woman who brought her wedding ceremony to a devastating halt.
    “May I come in, please?”
    Sara shook her head. “Have you lost your mind?”
    Then the baby grunted, with face contorted, as it worked up to a full blast.
    Sara hesitated. When she had to pull her windbreaker close because the cool temperature pierced her clothing, she surrendered. This baby needed to get out of the night air. She took out her keys, opened the door and stepped back, without uttering a word.
    “Thank you.” The woman set down the baby. “Sara, my name is Martha.”
    “I know who you are,” Sara snapped. She’d learned Martha’s name nine months ago, but her name hadn’t been the only thing that would be seared into Sara’s memory.
    “I’ll take your bag into your room,” Jackson said and he sidled past her.
    Sara barely nodded. Her place was small enough that no matter where Jackson went, he’d more than likely hear the entire conversation. There wasn’t anything she could do about that. Once again, Martha invaded her world, setting things in motion.
    “May I sit? Just for a minute. I’ve been standing out there for two hours.”
    Sara nodded, keeping a close eye on Martha, who sank into a chair. “What do you want?” Sara asked.
    “I’m looking for Blake.” Martha’s hand didn’t stop its constant motion of picking at her skirt, which had worked itself several inches above the knee.
    “Blake!” Just saying his name set Sara on edge. “I don’t know anything about Blake. Nor do I want to know anything about him.” Her voice rose, as did her temper.
    This woman had the nerve to sit in her apartment, asking for help to find Blake. Her wide-eyed, baby face didn’t move Sara one bit.
    “Look, before you toss me out of your home, hear me out, please,” Martha said.
    The baby’s low-pitched grunt turned into a wail.
    “Shh, sweetie.” Martha retrieved the struggling bundle from the carrier and held the baby tightly to her chest. “She’s all I have.”
    Sara noticed that Martha didn’t have a bag for the baby and only a blanket remained in the carrier. “Do you need to breast-feed?”
    Martha shook her head. “I have a bottle, but I need to make the formula.” She pulled out a Baggie of white powder and a large baby bottle. “Do you know how to make the bottle?”
    “No!”
    “Well, could you hold Sonia and I’ll make it.” Martha unburdened her load into Sara’s arms before she could protest.
    Sara held the baby stiffly away from her body. This scenario was not normal. The baby burrowed into her neck, still grunting her protests. Martha’s slamming of cabinets and rattling of silverware shifted Sara’s attention toward the kitchen.
    Sara entered the small area, bristling and ready to do battle. The small bundle in her arms diluted her anger when the child grabbed hold of her thumb and started cooing.
    Martha could be her opposite. She had to be close to six feet. There was nothing delicate about her frame or movements. She was solid, even thick, by some standards. Where Sara bordered between light and medium brown,