* * *
As I walk through town, I hear carols and look over to see a group of people singing. I check my watch. Yep, it’s seven in the morning. What the hell are people—? That’s when I see the date on my watch.
December 21.
That’s what Kenny meant. It’s winter solstice. The biggest celebration of our year, and I could not feel less festive. I duck around the carolers and hurry to our house.
I’m opening our front door when Sidra appears. I hold it for her, and I smile, and I hope that smile looks every bit as genuine as she deserves. Because she does deserve it. This is her baby. She was, from what I can tell, a perfect mother, despite her youth. She’s spent the ten days frantically trying to find her lost child. She confronted a killer to protect her family. And if there was any doubt about how much she loves Summer, it could not survive witnessing that heart-wrenching reunion scene last night.
So I smile for her, and it damned well better be a good one, or I will not forgive myself for my petty jealousy. I usher her in, and I’m about to apologize for the cold when I see that Dalton
has laid the fire, in case I come back here. Thoughtful and considerate as always, which only twists the knife that reminds me I have not been the same to him these last few hours.
I start the kettle for coffee, mostly as busywork while she settles in with the baby.
Her baby. Not mine. Never mine.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did,” she says. “Even saying thank you feels like such an understatement. But I don’t know what else to say.”
I’m not sure how to reply to that.
It was nothing, really.
Any decent person would have done the same.
It was no trouble at all.
Platitudes, and like her, I don’t want to say them. They feel empty. So I only say, “You’re welcome.”
Then I turn, and she rises, holding out the baby, and I know she doesn’t realize what that gesture means to me, how it is a knife in my gut. She is only being kind. So I must accept that kindness and accept Summer, and sink stiffly onto the chair, holding the baby and trying not to look down at her.
Summer fusses, and I tell myself she doesn’t know I’m not looking at her, her eyes can’t focus enough to find mine, but my gut calls me a coward, and I look down. Our eyes meet, and her lips purse, the way they do when she’s considering whether to cry, and I’m almost hoping she will.
Whoops, ha ha, guess she wants her mommy. Better take her back.
Summer sucks her lips twice, as if considering. Then her nostrils flare, and it is as if she catches my scent, finally realizes it’s me, and she snuggles down and my heart cracks. I feel it crack, and I feel the tears well, and I blink hard, clearing my throat.
“Have you given any thought to what Felicity offered last night?” I say. “Spending the winter with the First Settlement. I know you left because you didn’t think they’d let you be with Baptiste, but you have a baby now. They won’t separate your new family.”
“Thank you, and yes, we’re doing that. Only for the winter. We do want to be on our own. We could use help, though. Support and trade partners, and if either settlement will offer that, we’ll take it.”
“If you have any problems, come back here,” I say. “I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own once you’re settled and the baby’s a little older, but I’d strongly advise spending this winter in the settlement. Or here if they won’t take you.”
“And if they do take us…” She raises her eyes to mine, suddenly shy. “May we still visit?”
“Of course.”
The door opens. Dalton and Baptiste enter, kicking snow off their boots. I hold Summer out to Sidra, but she motions for Baptiste to take her, teasing him when Summer fusses at his cold touch. I watch the three of them, and yes, my heart cracks a little more, but it swells, too. They are in love, with each other and with their baby, and no child can truly hope for more.
“Did you ask her?” Baptiste says to Sidra.
Sidra shakes her head and looks at me. “We … we named her Summer as a joke. Not a very good joke either. But we’d like, if it’s all right with you, to change that. We’d like to call her Casey.”
“I…” I swallow. “That … that’s very kind. It isn’t necessary, though, and I think she should have her own name. Summer is good.” I force a too-bright smile. “And it’d be less confusing, when you come to visit. I am honored, though. Truly honored.”
“Eric thought you’d say that,” Baptiste says with a smile. “So Sidra and I have a backup plan. We heard you called her Abby here, after a young woman who died. May we keep calling her that?”
I glance at Dalton. He nods.