Kidnapped

The ritual sack of fruit had become a habit. If I happened to miss a Tuesday visit, Nellie almost invariably called me to insist that I stop by if only for a minute to pick up my apples. "They'll go bad!" she'd exclaim, forgetting that I never asked her to save them for me. I smuggled them home resignedly every week, only rebelling occasionally when she piled up fifteen or twenty because she couldn't remember how many she'd taken.

"I can't possibly eat that many!" I've told her...oh, a good dozen times now. But "six or eight" somehow always morphs gradually into more, and more, and more, until I manage to impress on her (again) that my husband and I don't just sit around eating fruit all day long.

So I was used to taking things home; one day, however, she took the smuggling a step further. I arrived to find a pretty old fashioned baby doll sitting on Nellie's bed. "Isn't she beautiful?" Nellie demanded. "A lady gave her to me. I just love her!" She fondly tickled the doll's chin and directed me to admire the sweet expression on her painted face, which I obediently did. The doll was extremely cute.

Then the conversation took a decidedly bizarre turn. "I really love her," Nellie continued, "but I don't need her." Well, who did need a doll? I didn't see any problem with keeping a pretty thing if she liked it. "So," Nellie concluded, "you need to take her home."

"Me? Why do I need to take her home?" I didn't follow her line of reasoning. I didn't need a doll any more than she did.

"Because. You need to. She needs a good home, and you like her, right?"

Obviously. Wasn't it self-evident? Because I had admired the pretty baby doll, she belonged with me. As I think I may have mentioned, one does not easily win arguments with Nellie, and this battle was not one I felt passionate about. I gave in. Of course I would take the doll home.

Then she seemed to change the subject abruptly. She pointed at a shirt on the chair, and I began to look for whatever rip or tear I needed to mend. "What do you want me to do with the shirt?" I asked, confused, for it looked like it was in pretty good shape.

"Oh, you must take it home too," she told me. "Wrap the doll inside it and carry it that way."

"Is there something I need to fix?" I still didn't understand.

"No, no. Just bring it back next week." Nellie lowered her voice. "You have to hide the baby so no one sees you carry her out!"

Ohhhh. I was going to kidnap the baby. I burst into laughter, and Nellie joined me. Even she could see the humor in this situation. Even though we could not stop our giggles, however, it remained absolutely necessary that I cover the baby doll as I left. What if the lady who had given her to Nellie saw what was happening?