4Written for killingstreak's birthday - this version is slightly edited to conform to FFN content guidelines. The full version is adult-rated.
The book Ned is reading is The Secret Adversary.
This story contains references to pregnancy and child abuse/neglect; please read responsibly.
Nancy opened her eyes to a blue, brightening Chicago morning, but her heart was heavy. She had been feeling the beginning of cramps the night before, and now they were undeniable. When she shut herself into the bathroom, the evidence was there.
Again. Again, nothing.
Some months she felt both numb and almost raw; this time, she just felt such overwhelming sadness that she couldn't wait until her shower to break down. The tears began dripping onto her bare thighs almost immediately.
She had stopped buying pregnancy tests; she just kept a large pack of ovulation tests under the sink and used them faithfully, to no avail. Ned kept assuring her that it would happen, that it would come in time, but with every month that passed, she felt like something had stolen another piece of her. She didn't know how much of her was left.
Ned came in right after she had stepped into the shower, and she tried so hard to stifle her sobs, but she couldn't.
"Oh, oh, honey..." Ned pulled back the shower curtain as Nancy was trying to hide her red, swollen eyes, and stepped into the tub with her, pulling her into his arms as the spray pelted against him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
She couldn't talk. She hurt too much.
He kissed her cheek, still rubbing her wet, bare back. "I wish I knew what to do," he murmured.
She had to gulp several times before she was finally able to make herself speak. "Will you go... to the doctor?" she choked out.
He looked into her wet eyes, and she saw her own sadness and pain reflected in his. "Yes," he murmured. "I'll call them today, Nan. I will. I thought... I thought it would just come, but it's okay. They'll help us figure it out, I know they will. And we'll have a baby."
She was twenty-seven years old. She had thought they had time; she had been on birth control the first few years of their marriage. She hadn't even needed to bother—or maybe she had been fertile then, and she just wasn't now. Maybe she never had been.
Her heart had been broken over and over, for a year now, for more than a year. She had thought that the instant she came off birth control, it would happen... and somehow, every month that passed, she found herself wanting it more. A baby to hold in her arms and rock to sleep and read stories to as lashes drifted low on soft cheeks.
Ned hugged her tight again. "I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. I'm so sorry."
Nancy just nodded, holding him too. She had to get herself under control. But if there was anywhere she could be vulnerable and exposed, it was here, in her husband's arms.
Breakfast was quick. They had leisurely meals on the weekends, breakfasts with pancakes and fresh fruit, waffles and sausage; breakfast this Tuesday morning was yogurt and a handful of granola, and even that tasted like cardboard to her. Ned had a pack of oatmeal breakfast bars, and although he was generally starving by mid-morning, at least his meal was quick.
When he kissed her goodbye, he cupped her cheek and gazed into her eyes with such sympathy and pain that she could feel the ache of tears in her throat again. "I'll call them today and set up an appointment. And we'll do something easy for dinner. I can pick up pizza?"
She nodded. "Okay," she whispered, and gave him a small smile.
He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Once she was alone, on the train heading to her assignment, she put her game face on. Any sadness or depression she felt today, she could push down until she was home again and deal with it then. While she was on the job, she poured everything into it. It kept her sane. She wasn't sure what she would have done without her work and Ned.
Bess and George didn't understand. Bess was expecting her second child, and she glowed; she was a natural mother. George had never wanted to be a mother.
Nancy put it out of her mind. The more she thought about it, the more upset she became, and she couldn't afford the energy just now.
The job she had been assigned was at a clothing boutique in the city. It was at the edge of the good part of town; two blocks over was a strip club and several tobacco and liquor stores. At least the boutique was next to a health-food store with a great salad bar; it meant she didn't have to waste half her lunch break on the train finding somewhere reasonable to eat. The owner of the boutique, Tressa Lindstrom, was a much-younger wife of a much-older, much-richer man, and while it was a vanity store, her husband had come up with the cash to hire Nancy's firm when merchandise had started going missing.
Tressa hadn't made a good impression on Nancy the day before, in the few seconds before Nancy had shaken her hand in greeting. She had worn a leopard-print miniskirt, a skintight black shirt unbuttoned to show a generous amount of cleavage spilling out of a lace-trimmed bra, and spike platform heels. Her skin was a shade too deeply tanned, and her hair looked both overprocessed and overdone. Her fake nails were done in leopard-print too, except for a single bronze-glitter accent nail on each hand. She wasn't shy about using makeup, either.
But beneath the three coats of mascara, her green eyes were sincere. Beyond her professionally bleached teeth, Tressa's voice wasn't harsh or grating; it was firm but good-humored. Those fake nails became a black-and-orange blur when she was doing her accounting in the back room.
Tressa looked like a pushover. And that, Nancy suspected, was why someone was trying to rip her off.
Delivery workers constantly arrived, bringing smaller packages through the front door and larger loads to the storage room at the back. Tressa prided herself on being ahead of trends, and when Nancy had casually mentioned a few of the brands Tressa carried, Bess had immediately been interested in coming by—so Nancy knew Tressa had to be at least somewhat knowledgeable. She carried a little of everything, although most of the floor space was taken up by clothing: a carefully curated shoe collection, jewelry chosen to coordinate with her signature pieces, handbags, cosmetics. Hence the perpetual traffic through the store, and the perfect opportunity to interfere.
Nancy had investigated cases of theft from stores before. Her usual strategy wasn't going to work here, though. Almost all the time, someone on the inside was at least facilitating the thefts, and Nancy needed to find the most likely candidate, the one who had motive.
Since Tressa's store was just a project her husband was able to indulge, Nancy had thought that Tressa would likely be the only employee, or one of a very limited number. But Tressa's guilty pleasure, she had confided in Nancy, was Netflix documentaries, and after watching one she had decided to give ex-cons the chance to work in her store. Her husband didn't care how much money Tressa poured into salary and overhead, so Tressa had hired several female ex-cons.
Nancy was undercover as one of Tressa's new employees, and she spent most of her time working and interviewing her new co-workers, in the least obvious way she could. Nancy accepted a few packages and checked them over carefully; she took note of every delivery person who came to the shop. She had turned a list of employees over to a researcher at her PI firm, and she was waiting on background checks. All the other employees she had talked to seemed both really nice and grateful for the opportunity; Nancy didn't sense that any of them were working to undermine Tressa. But the culprit would hardly make him- or herself obvious, and Nancy wondered if it might be a matter of coercion. A sibling or parent, a former or past lover, a relative could have the leverage to coerce an otherwise unwilling employee into conspiring.
Tressa would hate that. She was convinced it was an outside job, but the thefts weren't all from the same vendor or delivery service. Otherwise Nancy might have been more inclined to agree with her.
Nancy had arranged to grab a salad next door and chat with Tressa over lunch; she had hoped they might get away, but the sky had been growing steadily more cloudy all morning, and the wind was brisk and cold. Nancy gently rested a palm over her cramping abdomen, pausing halfway through her trip through the salad bar. Unbidden, she imagined a warm, greasy double bacon cheeseburger. The image made her stomach growl, but she felt a little nauseated by it too. A salad would be better for her.
And maybe an entire pack of chocolate chip cookies. She had been craving chocolate and salty foods the day before, and she had wanted it to be some kind of early-pregnancy craving, not a familiar sign that her period was about to start.
"Are you okay?" Tressa whisked some loose strands of hair out of her eyes and lashes with her fingertips. Even on her tall heels, she still peered up into Nancy's face.
Nancy nodded, putting a smile on her face. "No problem. Just a little stomachache. I'm okay."
Tressa's brow was still creased a little in concern, but she nodded. "Okay. Hope you feel better."
Her salad was good, and though Tressa didn't want to believe that any of her employees could be involved, she reluctantly agreed with Nancy's quiet, firm comment that coercion could be involved. As Nancy forked up another bite of spinach, boiled egg and bacon, she glanced over.
A young affluent mother pushing a stroller was waiting for a deli order to be filled. A very young boy was in the stroller, bundled up against the early-spring chill, and his large dark eyes were fixed on Nancy. He gave her a grin when she glanced at him.
Her heart sank in misery, but Nancy couldn't tear her gaze away. She smiled back at him, and he smacked the bar in front of him, still grinning at her.
It was like they knew, somehow. They knew how much she wanted one of them to be her own.
As hard as she tried, Nancy couldn't cheer herself up that afternoon. She focused on her work, pouring all of her energy into it, her determination almost grim. Since most of the thefts had likely happened around the time of delivery, Nancy decided that putting up some well-hidden surveillance cameras just outside and in the stock room might help. She could pick them up in the morning and install them the following evening.
The day was incident-free, to Tressa's relief and Nancy's chagrin. While it would have been perfect for Tressa to never be victimized by the thief again, Nancy knew it would only be a matter of time before the culprit struck again. She just hoped that she would be able to catch the person responsible soon.
Nancy was exhausted and weary when she keyed into their apartment. Ned had sent her a message that she had read on the way: Made an appt for Mon. Bringing pizza for dinner. Love you.
Ned was true to his word; Nancy smelled garlic and tomato sauce as soon as she walked in. She recognized the pizza box and smiled, shouldering the door closed behind her and letting her bag fall from her shoulder to her elbow.
"There's ice cream in the freezer too," Ned told her, coming over to help her out of her coat. "How was work?"
"Long. I hope I can come up with some leads tomorrow." Nancy frowned as another cramp hit her. "Mmm. Thanks for picking up dinner, honey. So, Monday?"
"Yeah. I had to meet with the same doctor you saw. You said she was nice?"
Nancy nodded. "They drew blood for tests," she murmured. She felt tears rise in her eyes and sniffled. "Oh God. Let's just eat. I'm so tired."
Ned rubbed her back in comforting strokes. "Me too. I'm sorry, sweetheart."
He had picked up an appetizer sampler along with the classic, a Chicago deep-dish with pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers and onions. Nancy was able to eat a single slice of it, but she and Ned easily demolished the appetizers, garlic bread and fried mozzarella, fried mushrooms and toasted ravioli.
"Babe, I know..." Ned trailed off, looking over at her. She had her head propped up on her hand, and her lashes were low. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep and just never wake up, not to this. She just felt so miserable. "I know once I meet with the doctor, they'll be able to figure it out. It's going to be okay. I know it probably doesn't feel like that right now."
She shook her head. "Some women have 'unexplained infertility,'" she whispered. "They never know what the problem is. It should work. It just doesn't." She sniffled, and a pair of tears slid down her cheeks.
"So we'll adopt."
Just out of college, Ned had found a great job—but when the company had downsized, he had been such a new hire that he had been let go. Finding another job had taken a few months. It had been a tough time, and with the economy in such poor shape, they had worked hard on their savings. The thought of dipping into that fund to adopt a child, and then to have nothing left if they found themselves in trouble again...
"It's just so much money," she whispered, and frowned deeply, trying to stave off the sobs she could feel trembling in her chest. "I can't... I can't talk about this right now. I'm sorry."
Ned's dark eyes were so sweet and sympathetic that Nancy almost broke down. His brow was furrowed with concern. "We both want to have a baby," he told her. "I have faith that it will work out. I have enough faith for both of us. I love you so much, Nan."
"I love you too," she whispered.
The rain had begun during her commute home, and she could hear it being blown against the sides of their apartment house, against the railing outside the window. Ned had to finish up a few last assignments from work, since he had left right at five to pick up dinner. Nancy dug a spoon into the pint of chocolate and hazelnut ice cream Ned had bought her, and sighed. At least the sugar was improving her mood some.
Ned was right... but Nancy already knew that; it didn't change anything. After the second month had gone by with a negative pregnancy test and the arrival of her period, Nancy had decided that maybe, if she loved Ned as much as she possibly could, her pregnancy would be a sign of that. It would be a sign of how much she loved him and he loved her. So she had done everything she could to focus on what she loved about him, to magnify it, to suffuse herself in it.
She hadn't realized, then, that she already loved Ned infinitely. She knew it now. She loved everything about him. She loved that, after some initial resistance early in their marriage, when Ned was upset or sick, he liked it when she held him. She would spoon up tight against him or tangle her legs in his, hold him close and stroke his hair, and he relaxed with her. She loved how easily he did things to comfort her, to make her happy, to show her that he loved her. Soon after their wedding, she had begun to do the same thing. She had thought hard about how she could possibly show him that she loved him, and she had started buying him little gifts, sending him emails or text messages to tell him that she was thinking about him.
Their relationship, their love for each other, helped shape her life. It gave her purpose and meaning.
Her need for a child felt completely separate. It wasn't that Ned had failed her, or that he wasn't enough for her; he was more than enough. She just wanted to share that love with a child. She wanted Ned to be a father just as much as she wanted to be a mother. She wanted them to have a family of their own.
Ned cast a longing glance at her ice cream when he rejoined her on the couch; she had already seen the second pint in the freezer. Ned loved chocolate just as much as Nancy did. "You want me to read to you tonight?"
It reminded her of being a child, even though she couldn't clearly remember either of her parents ever reading to her; it felt comforting and soothing. She had learned to read when she was young, and her father had been working late in his office or in his study all the time, so she read to herself. This was different. It was nice.
She and Ned cuddled up in bed together, and he had brought one of her Agatha Christie books with him, one that had originally belonged to her mother. Nancy brought her ice cream; she knew she shouldn't eat the entire container, but she was planning on sharing it with Ned anyway.
"'It was 2 p.m. on the afternoon of May 7, 1915. The Lusitania had been struck by two torpedoes in succession and was sinking rapidly, while the boats were being launched at all possible speed.'"
Nancy had her head nestled against Ned's shoulder, and his arm was around her. She helped him hold the book open and turn pages, and fed him ice cream when he paused for long breaths. After one spoonful, he rubbed her side and gave her a smile, then kissed her temple.
It was the two of them against the world, snug and safe even as the rain poured outside, nestled against each other and warm. But her heart was heavy when she imagined how it would be to have a child asleep in her lap, listening to Ned's voice and drowsing, running her fingers through fine soft hair.
She closed her eyes and turned her head, trying to focus on his voice, but tears began to slip from beneath her lashes. How could it keep hurting this much? It was like a wound on top of a wound, hurting more and more each time.
Ned paused, undoubtedly feeling her tears soak through his shirt and touch his shoulder. He put the book down and moved so he could wrap her in his arms, and she buried her face against him and sobbed.
He rubbed her back and didn't shush her. "I love you," he murmured. "I'd do anything to take this away from you. I'm so sorry, Nan."
Every time she thought she had given up hope, she discovered that there was farther to fall.
After another day at Tressa's store, Nancy waited until the last employee had left for the day and pulled out the cameras. Tressa had been relieved at the suggestion for surveillance cameras at the back of the store; she was hoping they would catch some stranger that way.
The rain from the night before had lingered through most of the day, and the wind felt almost wet. Nancy wore a hooded red raincoat over her black sweater; she hadn't realized until she had reached Tressa's store that she had been dressing in somber colors this week. It happened every time her period started, and even when she consciously tried to dress more cheerfully, trying to encourage a shift in her mood, it never worked.
She had scoped out the alley behind the store the day before, and made sure to seat the base of the ladder securely before climbing up to mount and disguise the cameras.
After thirty minutes of work, Nancy dusted her palms on her dark jeans and glared up into the night. She would check again in the morning before reviewing the tape, but in the darkness especially, the cameras were definitely well-disguised.
Her stomach rumbled traitorously. She had had little appetite at lunch, but Ned's mother had given them a creamy chicken casserole that was thawing for dinner. That, plus some crusty buttered bread, would be perfect tonight. And the other pint of ice cream.
Nancy had just shouldered her newly-emptied backpack when she heard a wail. It had to be a cat; she had just been caught off-guard at first, that was all. She just couldn't stop thinking about babies. It wasn't a child's cry—
She heard another wail, followed by full-throated sobs.
Nancy dashed toward the sound, her heart pounding. It was probably just a child throwing a tantrum, carrying so clearly through an open window—but the night was cold; she could hardly imagine that someone would have the windows open now.
She didn't know why, but her instinct was to check the alleys near Tressa's shop. The wails had turned to sobs, but they were intermittent now, like the owner had started to give up hope.
"Hello? Where are you?"
Another wail split the night, and Nancy kept heading toward the rougher part of town. Sweepstakes parlors, vapor lounges, and bingo halls studded the run-down strip malls. A group of eight or ten teenagers was clustered in the parking lot of a convenience store spilling white light onto wet pavement through barred glass. The teens were passing a bottle wrapped in a paper bag between them.
It was behind the convenience store, among rain-slicked crates and pallets, that Nancy saw movement. "Hello?"
The little girl—she couldn't even be two years old, Nancy decided, as shining dark eyes looked up into hers. The girl raised her palms in silent supplication, and Nancy gasped at the blood she saw smeared there. Jagged glittering bits of glass were ground against her tiny palms.
"Oh! Oh, honey! Poor baby!" Nancy rushed toward her, but not in time to stop her from planting a palm behind her to help push herself up—which provoked another loud, pained cry. "Hush, hush, sweetheart! Come here. I know it hurts."
The girl was dressed in a short-sleeved yellow t-shirt; whatever design had once been on it obscured by repeated washings. Her hair was dark and baby-soft, curled against her neck by sweat. She wore a diaper too, and nothing else. Her legs and feet were bare, and Nancy saw that some of the glass had also wounded her tiny heels some.
The night was so cold and wet, and as Nancy picked up the little girl and held her close, she shook her head in anger. Who would let a baby go out in so little, when she was sure to be cold? Who would have left her alone like this to be lost? Nancy would never, never have done such a thing, and she didn't hear anyone calling desperately for a baby nearby. Unless something had happened to her mother...
With someone holding her, the little girl seemed to calm down a little. She was still hiccuping with sobs, but she was trembling too, probably freezing. Nancy adjusted her coat to try to shield the little girl from the cold wind, but she had to take care of the broken glass and clean her up. If she was bleeding, Nancy would take her to the hospital. Then, once she was warm and clean again, they could find her mother.
Holding a baby in her arms made Nancy fairly ache with longing, and tears stung her eyes as she rushed into the convenience store, hoping to clean her up there. The cashier, who looked like she was still in high school, stood at the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring at the teens clearly drinking in the parking lot.
"You okay, ma'am?"
"Maybe," Nancy called back, glancing around frantically for the restroom and making a beeline once she saw the sign.
The girl whimpered and sobbed a few times as Nancy cleaned her hands and then her feet, but she had just been scratched and frightened; she wasn't bleeding now. Nancy used another dampened paper towel to clean the tears and snot from her face, and she gazed up at Nancy with wonder-filled eyes. Then she said something, but Nancy couldn't make out a word of it. The little girl clearly knew what she was saying, but Nancy shook her head in frustration. When Bess's son had been at this age, Nancy had never been able to figure out how to understand him either.
She had learned how to change a diaper, though, and the little girl clearly needed that.
Nancy came out of the bathroom to see the cashier still scowling at the teens outside. "Do you have diapers and wipes here?" she called.
The cashier, whose name badge read Corinne, helped Nancy find the diapers and wipes, and then diaper cream once Nancy realized she needed that too. The little girl was much happier once she was cleaned up, and Nancy dug through her backpack and found a zippered dark-gray hoodie she often used while on surveillance. The garment swallowed the toddler, but at least it would keep her warmer.
"What's her name?" Corinne asked.
Nancy shook her head slowly. "I don't know. She was crying in the alley behind this place. I don't know where her mom is, or her dad."
"Want me to call 911?"
Nancy shook her head. "I'll take her by the station myself. I know some of the guys at the next station. But I'll leave my number with you just in case. Thanks."
Corinne nodded. "Well, aren't you a sweetheart," she said to the little girl, who gazed up at her with solemn dark eyes. The girl held her gaze for a few seconds, then rested her cheek against Nancy's shoulder.
Nancy's heart clenched painfully. The longer she held the toddler, the harder it would be to let her go. If she knew that the girl was safe and warm at home with her loving parents... well, she would still ache. But at least she would know the little girl was okay.
Outside the store, Nancy adjusted her backpack and rubbed the little girl's back. "I should take you right to the station," she sighed. "If I were your mom I'd be losing my mind wondering where you were. I wonder if you're hungry, though. Are you hungry?"
The girl brought her head up, her eyes bright. Nancy headed back into the store, and she and Corinne decided on applesauce. The girl finished it all eagerly, then gave Nancy a happy smile.
"Do you want some more? Are you still hungry, baby? Let's see... chicken nuggets?"
No one seemed to realize that anything was strange about Nancy carrying a child wrapped in an adult-sized hoodie into a fast-food restaurant and ordering a chicken nugget meal for her, with French fries and milk. She sat down with her in a small booth, holding the baby in her lap, and made sure the food wasn't too hot before she let her try it. The little girl ate most of the food, and when she carefully lifted the small jug of milk in her small, undoubtedly tender hands, bringing it to her lips for a noisy sip, Nancy sighed softly. She knew she was just torturing herself, but she couldn't stop it. It fed that part of her, to be caring for the child, even if it was just for a few hours.
Once the baby had lost interest in eating, Nancy sighed and gave her a little hug. Ned had sent her a text message, and she had told him to go ahead and eat without her, since she had been delayed. She would take the baby by the police station; her mother was undoubtedly frantic with worry and searching for her. Then she would go home and tell Ned about it and cry herself to sleep.
The police station was busy, even so late, and the little girl in her arms put her face against Nancy's neck, shrinking away from the sound and bustle around her. Nancy's arms were aching a little, but she didn't want to put her down; she seemed to need the comfort.
Finally she found a detective she had worked with a couple of times who was at the station filling out some paperwork. "Hey Cortez—I was on assignment tonight and I found this little girl."
She gave him the address of the convenience score and explained the circumstances, and Cortez shook his head. "Well, she looks like a sweet little thing," he commented, gazing into her face before she nestled against Nancy again, hiding. "I'll check and see if there are any calls in about a missing toddler—let me snap a photo, so I can send it out, in case her mom comes in looking for her."
Nancy sank into the seat beside Cortez's desk as he went to check, and gave her arms a little rest. She was hungry and tired; she had been so focused on the little girl that she had only eaten three untouched fries from the baby's kid's meal, and that was it.
"What's your name, honey?" Nancy asked, smoothing fine wisps of dark hair off her forehead and gazing into her wide, curious eyes. "Can you tell me your name?"
The girl said something, but all Nancy could make out was the "m" sound at the beginning. Then she patted Nancy's cheek, and Nancy gave her another hug, holding her close.
The baby wasn't crying for her mother. But someone had to have been caring for her. Someone had to be looking for her.
Cortez returned a few minutes later. "Okay... no reports of a missing toddler."
Nancy's eyebrows went up. Maybe her mother was so frantic that she hadn't even thought about calling the police yet. "What happens to her?"
"Well, she'll probably stick around here for a few hours, but I'll go ahead and call Social Services. They'll take her to some kind of foster arrangement for the night. It'll be okay," he said, when Nancy's brow furrowed. "I'm sure her mom or dad will call us soon, and she'll be back home in no time."
Nancy hesitated for a moment. "Could I just take her home with me?" she asked quietly. "She—she seems comfortable with me, and I'll bring her back as soon as you call. I'll take care of her."
Cortez searched her face. He had been smiling, but the smile faded. "It's not procedure," he said. "If anything happens to her, Drew..."
"Nothing will happen to her. I promise. I'll sign something if you want. It won't be your responsibility. I just... she's already had a rough night."
Cortez heaved a heavy sigh. "All right," he said reluctantly. "It's a miserable night and I'd have to get the SS worker out here. And she does seem to have taken to you. All right. If I get a call about her, I'll send a patrol car out to your place to pick her up. As long as you're sure."
Nancy nodded, stroking the girl's soft dark hair. "Thanks, Cortez."
She stopped at a nearby everything market, picking up what she would need for the night: diapers and wipes and diaper cream, milk and snacks, applesauce. She found another outfit for her too, one that seemed warm enough, pink and gray with an elephant on the pocket, and a pack of tiny socks.
Nancy knew it would just feel worse, to let her go in the morning, or even to wake to a frantic phone call from the little girl's mother. But when the little girl fell asleep against her on the train, Nancy stroked her hair and gazed down at her affectionately. This was what she wanted more than anything, so much that it seemed to fill her, to ache in her throat, to thicken frenetic in her blood. Giving it up felt impossible. She had tried to tell herself to relax, to calm down, but just like a fist too broad to fit through the lip of a jar, she couldn't relax her grip on this. She just held it tighter.
She had sent Ned a text explaining what was about to happen, and she was already cringing a little in anticipation of his exasperation and concern when she stopped at their apartment door and pulled out her key. Her backpack, loaded with her newly-purchased supplies, was on her back, and the little girl was in her arms.
Ned opened the door before she was even able to slot the key into the lock. The little girl had roused when they had left the train, and she gazed at Ned curiously, then buried her face bashfully against Nancy's neck.
"It's okay, sweetie," Nancy crooned at her. "This is Ned. He's a good guy. He wants to meet you too."
Ned's dark eyes were so soft as he looked at the baby in Nancy's arms. He patted her back gently, through Nancy's hoodie. "Hey sweetheart," Ned said quietly. "So you got lost, huh? I'm sorry. We'll take care of you, though."
Then he looked into Nancy's face. "Hungry?"
"Famished," she admitted. "Let me put the groceries away."
"Here. I'll hold her."
Ned began to take her, and the little girl flinched, squirming away from him and more firmly against Nancy. Nancy and Ned exchanged a glance, and then Nancy shrugged her pack off and sat down on the couch. Ned sat down beside her too.
"Honey, it's okay," Nancy said, looking into the little girl's wide dark eyes. She spoke normally, not in condescending baby-speak. "Ned's going to sit here beside you. He'll find you a nice soft blanket and a pillow and—you can watch TV. I should have bought something for you to play with, but I didn't think about it... I hope you didn't have a favorite toy or something that I overlooked in the alley. But it's okay, sweetheart. Ned's a good guy. He keeps me safe all the time and he'll keep you safe too."
The girl seemed to understand her, or maybe she was just responding to the firm assurance in Nancy's voice. When Nancy moved to put her down beside Ned, the girl sighed, then looked up at him.
"Oh. You hurt your hand," he said, and took it in his. "Looks like you just scratched it up a little. Did you have an adventure? Nancy has adventures all the time."
A tear ran down Nancy's cheek as she watched her husband talk to the little girl. She put away the groceries and pulled out a pack of instant oatmeal; that would probably be good for her breakfast. Assuming she was still here.
Nancy checked her phone, but she only saw a text message from Cortez. Nothing yet, but I'll let you know. Be careful, Drew.
The casserole tasted even better than usual. Nancy served herself a bowl and ate it as she and Ned sat on the couch with the little girl between them, a blanket draped over their laps. Ned had found some cartoons, but the little girl seemed to be interested in Nancy's bowl of food. Ned had pulled out the ice cream, but he had only taken a bite; he kept looking at Nancy and the little girl.
She hoped he wasn't going to have a talk with her once they went to bed. She already knew this was going to hurt; she didn't need him to tell her. She knew that she should have let Cortez contact social services and let them handle finding the child's mother. Maybe she should have gone back to the convenience store, to see if she spotted anyone there...
The little girl tasted the chunk of broccoli Nancy let her have, then smiled. She said something that sounded both very earnest and like total nonsense, and Nancy smiled back at her.
What if her mother wasn't looking for her, and tomorrow... well, Tressa would likely understand if Nancy brought the baby with her. Cortez wouldn't like it if she left the baby with Ned's parents, or with Hannah, all the way out in Mapleton or River Heights. But if she discovered the thief and had to confront him or her... she couldn't put the baby through that. She just couldn't.
At ten o'clock that night, the baby had fallen asleep against Ned's side, and he was stroking her hair. After her initial wariness, she had warmed to him. The hoodie was unzipped, but it was still draped over her shoulders. Her cheeks were a little rosy. Nancy worriedly rested the backs of her fingers against her soft forehead. What if she had touched something disease-infested in the alley, and now she had some kind of infection? Nancy was already considering the closest immediate care center and what to do... but the little girl just seemed to be slightly flushed.
Nancy had eaten and savored a few spoonfuls of the ice cream, and once the girl had fallen asleep, Ned had turned the TV to ESPN, but no one was watching it. She sensed Ned's gaze on her and looked over at him, a little warily.
"You brought home a lost child," he said softly.
She nodded.
"Who you've fallen in love with."
She nodded, looking away from Ned's eyes for a few seconds. Her throat ached a little at the threat of tears.
"You said you went by the police station. You haven't heard anything from them."
"Only that no one has come forward to claim her or say she's missing." Nancy knew her expression was pleading when she looked into her husband's eyes, but she couldn't help it. "I found her in a t-shirt and a diaper in this cold weather. Barefoot, scraped-up hands and feet, and a diaper that needed changing. She was hungry. A mother, a loving mother—there's no way... she probably didn't come from a stable loving home. She needs our help."
Ned searched her eyes. "I think she's a sweet, adorable kid," he said. "And I'll hate to see her go. But we don't know the circumstances. If her mother was in an accident and the little girl wandered away, or something..."
"Yeah." Nancy sighed and put her hand on her thigh, and the little girl turned in her sleep.
Just then, Nancy's cell phone began to ring. She scrambled to answer it, but the little girl woke up with a soft inquisitive sound, bringing a fist up to rub at her eyes.
"Hello?"
"Hey. This is Corinne? Somebody's here looking for that little girl."
Nancy's heart sank. "I'll be right there. Please ask them to wait for me. Thanks."
"Okay."
As soon as she hung up the phone, her eyes were full of tears. She sniffled.
Ned reached over and rubbed Nancy's shoulder. "Look, I'll come with you. Okay?"
Nancy nodded. She would be grateful for the help, and for his comforting arms when they were on the way back, alone again.
Before they headed out, Nancy changed the little girl into the new outfit so she would be warmer during their trip. She giggled and pointed at the elephant, saying "ley-ley."
"Yeah, baby. Elephant." Nancy smiled at her, trying to keep tears from rising in her eyes and failing. "I wish you could live here with us. Be our little girl. You're so sweet, honey."
Ned touched Nancy's shoulder, but didn't say anything. She could tell that his heart was hurting for her.
The trip to the store felt both miserably long and painfully short. The little girl sang a song quietly, and Nancy didn't understand any of the words, but she wrapped her tiny hands around Nancy and Ned's fingers and smiled at them. Nancy thought that Ned was hurting too, that for a second or two he had seen how it could be, just as she had.
Nancy carried the baby in her arms as they approached the store. The teens had moved on, but Nancy saw two cars parked near each other in a dark corner. She was glad Ned was with her, to help her protect the baby.
Corinne was standing at the door when Nancy and Ned approached. "She said she'd be right back," Corinne told them.
Nancy raised her eyebrows, and she and Ned exchanged a glance. "Is she okay? Had there been an accident or something?"
Corinne shrugged. "I don't think so," she said. "She just seemed really irritated."
Then she looked at the little girl. "So that's a pretty new outfit," she cooed. "You're a pretty girl, aren't you?"
The change in her was remarkable. Maybe she had just been shocked and hurt by falling down in the alley and being injured by the glass, but she wasn't acting shy and quiet anymore. She giggled when Corinne pretended to steal her nose, and then looked over at Nancy, opening and closing her fist in a come-here gesture.
"Your mom should be here soon," Nancy told her. "It's okay. I'm going to miss you." And you'll never remember me, she thought.
Ned reached for her hand and held it. She was going to cry herself to sleep again. She wanted to curl up in a ball even now.
A woman, her hair in a messy dark ponytail, practically slammed the door open when she came in. Three children trailed in behind her, the oldest a girl who looked like she was around twelve years old. The other two were boys. All three of the children looked surly and sleepy-eyed, and no wonder; it was already late.
The little girl was back in Nancy's arms, and although Nancy had a feeling this was the woman in question, the girl didn't immediately start squirming or begging to be let down so she could go to her mother. She kept her gaze on the other woman, but that was all.
"Thanks for finding her," the woman said, her voice flat. Then she glanced over at the older girl. "No thanks to you."
The twelve-year-old scowled, her arms crossed. "She's just a stupid baby."
"Do you have anything on you to prove that you're her mother?" Nancy asked, trying to keep her tone polite.
The dark-haired woman let out a sharp, almost braying laugh. "I'm not, so no. I don't. Jaz lost her a couple hours ago. Took me a while to realize she was gone."
"You're not her mother?"
The other woman shook her head. "She's my sister's kid."
"Where's your sister?"
"In prison. Like it's any of your business." One of the boys was reaching for a candy bar from the racks in front of the register; the woman smacked his hand. He shot a fierce glare in her direction. "A week after Maralee was born, she took off. I've been looking after her ever since."
Maralee. The name didn't suit the little girl, in Nancy's opinion. She desperately wanted to ask what the mother was in prison for, but her sister didn't seem likely to divulge that.
"And she hasn't sent a single dollar to help out. Like I have the cash laying around to take care of her." The woman snorted. "Surprised she isn't screaming for some food."
"I fed her." Nancy watched her smack the other little boy's hand. "So you have three children..."
The woman nodded.
"If you... if you don't want her... can I adopt her?"
The woman's eyebrows went up. "Like—for what? What do you want her for?"
Nancy shook her head, unable to find the words, unable to say it in a way that wouldn't make her sound desperate and crazy.
"Because we've been trying to have a baby," Ned filled in, when Nancy didn't reply. "And we really like her. We can give her a good home and attention and love her. If you'll let us."
"Do you think your sister would let us?" Nancy asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Maralee patted Nancy's shoulder.
"Not for nothing," Maralee's aunt said bluntly. "She'll bleed anyone else dry. I was done having kids when Mara dumped the baby on me—yeah, Mara, Maralee. Real creative." She snorted. "It'd be a relief to get rid of her."
Nancy's stomach hurt at the woman's words. "If you want references, I took her to the next precinct earlier and told Detective Cortez I'd found her. I can give you the names of a hundred people who will vouch for me and Ned. And I'll take care of talking to your sister. To Mara. I just... please."
The other woman considered it for a moment, and Nancy could feel every pounding beat of her heart.
"Mama, please," her daughter said. "She isn't even our sister. She just cries all the time. Mooooooommmm..."
During their conversation, Maralee hadn't tried to get down or protested being in Nancy's arms. That chilled Nancy. What was their home like? How had the older girl been responsible for Maralee's being lost, and how had it taken so long for anyone to even notice she was gone? From how exasperated she was, Nancy wondered if maybe the older daughter had intentionally tried to lose the demanding baby.
Maralee's aunt heaved a sigh. "Look, I don't know you. For all I know you two were trolling around looking for a baby to kidnap and—hurt." She took the elastic out of her hair in a brutal, exasperated pull and ran her fingers through it, making it even messier than before, as she began to tie it up again. "Give her back."
The twelve-year-old's eyes filled with tears, and she stomped her foot. "I hate you!" she screamed. "Whyyyyyy—"
The smaller of the two boys snatched a candy bar from the display and immediately tore open the wrapper, taking a huge, gleeful bite. Corinne put her hands on her hips. "You'll have to pay for that," she said firmly.
Maralee's aunt took two steps toward Nancy and the little girl, and the baby buried her face against Nancy's neck, shrinking against her, clinging to her. She let out a high-pitched wail that made Nancy's heart ache.
She couldn't help it. She held the baby girl tighter and stroked her back. "It's okay," she murmured. "Shh, it's okay."
Maralee started to cry, in soft, hiccuping sobs that were almost timid, like she was afraid she might be punished for it. Nancy felt tears rise in her eyes in reply. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here, baby."
Maralee's cousin was still throwing a tantrum. Her little brother had darted off to hide behind a display, the stolen candy bar still in his hand. Their mother glanced around in exasperation.
Ned had stepped between Nancy and the aunt. "Please," he said. "We would never hurt her. Please let us take her home, even if it's just for the night. We don't have to figure this out tonight."
The other woman heaved a sigh. "Fine. You can babysit her tonight. But we'll meet tomorrow, after I get off work." She wagged a finger in warning.
On the way back home, Nancy kept stroking the baby's hair and pressing kisses against the crown of her head. Maralee rested her cheek against Nancy's chest and reached up to rub her index finger and thumb against Nancy's earlobe; it seemed to soothe her. She opened and closed her other hand, reaching toward Ned, and he held her tiny hand in his, her fingers wrapped around his thumb.
"You're safe," she whispered. "It's all right, honey. We're gonna take you home."
Ned reached over and rubbed Nancy's back. "Sweetheart," he murmured.
Her eyes were shining when she looked at him. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too," he told her. He took a breath, but let it out without saying anything else.
He didn't have to. She knew what he was thinking.
It was late, when they came back home. The baby was sleeping with her head against Ned's shoulder. Nancy had her cell phone out, and she sniffled as she dialed.
"Dad? Yeah, I'm really sorry to call you so late, but... how do I become a legal guardian?"
It was too fast, and it had taken so long, so so long.
Ned knew he would remember that first night for the rest of his life. Nancy fell asleep on the couch with the baby in her arms. Ned sat in the chair facing them, his mind racing in the stillness, silence punctuated by the steady thudding of his heart, the baby quietly sighing in her sleep. Nancy had fallen asleep crying, and the dried tracks showed on her skin.
He had been certain that she was breaking her own heart. She had known there was so little chance that they could adopt the baby, that her aunt wouldn't insist on custody. But she had held the baby in her arms for so long that letting her go was impossible.
Nancy was meant to be a mother. Ned knew that. He was so sure of it that he just hadn't been able to imagine they might need help conceiving their own child. But seeing her with the baby in her arms, even though the baby wasn't theirs, just looked right. She even looked like Ned, with her dark hair and dark eyes.
She needed someone to love her, and Nancy needed a baby to love.
They had been trying for a year.
Ned knew what the next steps probably were: expensive tests, drugs, maybe procedures that they would have to endure. Unless something changed, it would be months before they had a child of their own.
But they had the little girl, for now. If Nancy put her mind to it, Ned knew Carson would do everything in his power to help them become her guardians or her adoptive parents.
It would make Nancy happy. Ned's heart broke for his wife when he saw how upset and sad she was, every month that went by without her becoming pregnant. She wanted a baby so, so much. And Ned's heart went out to the little girl, unwanted by the woman who had custody of her, left forgotten and scared in an alley behind a convenience store.
Ned thought about it a minute, then stood up and set to work moving the overstuffed armchair. Then he remembered the padded chair that he had brought from his dorm room, and spent a few minutes finding that. He set it up just beside their bed, on Nancy's side. It would make a comfortable bed for the baby, once that she couldn't roll out of. He was afraid that Nancy would roll onto her side on the couch and the baby would fall on the floor.
Nancy's lashes fluttered up when he walked back into the main room, and the baby was rubbing Nancy's earlobe again. "Hey," she whispered.
"Come on, girls," he murmured, reaching for the baby. "Let's go to bed. Does she need a change first?"
Nancy slept on her side, facing the baby, keeping her hand near her so she would feel safe. Ned spooned up behind his wife, holding her, and found himself praying that she would find a way, that she wouldn't break her own heart.
It took a few months to work everything out. Ned went with Nancy to visit Mara in prison, and Nancy told Mara what she and Ned had agreed: Nancy would hold onto the few baby photos Mara's sister had still had, and she would agree to let the baby meet her birth mother once she was a teenager. Nancy and Ned would handle the legal fees for adopting the baby. And the little girl would have a stable, loving home with two people who loved her.
Mara's sister had been right; she hadn't wanted to give up her abandoned baby to Nancy and Ned for nothing. Nancy presented her with a document and told her to read the whole thing, and Mara didn't realize the caveat even after Nancy told her: the money she and Ned paid for the baby would go into a trust that would be hers once she graduated high school. It would belong to the baby, not Mara.
Or maybe that was what she had wanted all along, a future for her baby that she could never give her.
On the day they legally adopted her, Nancy and Ned changed her name to Miranda Leigh Nickerson. Nancy's father and Ned's parents were there; they had fallen in love with the little girl just as Nancy and Ned had, and they had been calling her Miranda from the day Mara had signed the papers. She looked like a Miranda. She looked like a beautiful, sweet toddler.
They went out to celebrate, all of them, Nancy and Carson, Ned and his parents, George and Bess and Bess's husband and their children, and Miranda, who wore a tiara and a pretty pink dress. She glowed with happiness, sipping apple juice while her new parents sipped champagne. While Miranda loved all the guests, she loved to be with Nancy and Ned the most.
That night, once they were home and Miranda was tired from all the excitement of the day, Ned tucked her into her white and yellow bed. Nancy had given her a bath and dressed her in her favorite nightgown. A dozen stuffed animals were crowded against the wall, watching their baby as she slept.
"Want a story tonight, sweetie?"
Miranda nodded. He couldn't believe she would be old enough to start preschool soon. More than that, he couldn't believe that she was finally, legally, totally theirs.
After two stories, she had drifted off to sleep. Ned bent and kissed her forehead, stroking her dark hair. "Sleep well, baby girl," he whispered.
Then he went back to his own bed, and Nancy was waiting there. Her fingers were interlaced over the comforter, her engagement ring and wedding ring sparkling there, and her eyes shone.
"She's ours," she whispered. "I can't believe she's ours."
Ned smiled. "I think maybe we were always meant to be her parents," he said. "I'm just so glad you found her."
That night they made love, slow and sweet, and she didn't cling to him with the same desperation, the hope and hopelessness she felt every time they had a chance. They had their baby now. And he hoped she would relax, now that she was a mother, just the way she had always wanted.
They tangled around each other, nuzzling and kissing, stroking each other, and when he felt a giggle bubble up in her chest, he had to laugh too. Mira was theirs. Their baby. He loved her like he would have loved a child they conceived together.
He gazed down at his wife, her flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes, and when their eyes met, he gasped. "Nan," he whispered.
She smiled at him, and she looked so beautiful that his heart ached with love for her. "I love you too," she whispered.
He caught her lips with his in a long, deep kiss, then slowly relaxed against her.
"I love you," he whispered, once he could speak again. "I love you so much."
She ran her fingers through his hair. "I love you too," she whispered.
Three weeks later, when Ned came to bed, he found Nancy sitting on the side of it with a strange look on her face. She had a small frown on her lips, crinkling her brow. Her eyes were wet.
"She okay?" Nancy whispered.
Ned nodded. "She's fine. Went to sleep like a little angel."
They both snickered softly. Mira had been a crackling bundle of energy all day long, keeping Ned's mother busy while she watched her. At dinner she had been talking a mile a minute about their trip to the park and the ducks she had seen. Then she had cuddled against Nancy and they had played with her dolls until Mira had started yawning.
"What's wrong, hon?"
Nancy sniffled. "I bought—a set of pregnancy tests. At... at the beginning. And I never used them."
Ned nodded. She had never had the chance.
"I... just took one."
Ned just stared at her. What she was saying... it couldn't be true, it couldn't...
She took a deep breath. "Do you want to see it?"
"Of course I do," he said immediately, and despite the clear anxiety she was feeling, Nancy smiled.
She reached into a paper bag on the nightstand and pulled it out, handing it to him. He looked at it, uncomprehending, reading the instructions while his heart was beating so hard that he couldn't understand any of it.
"It... the plus means...?"
She nodded. "We're gonna be parents again," she whispered.