CHAPTER 11
Naomi stoodin her bedroom the next morning, her arms folded as she took in the unfamiliar shapes now filling the space. A bassinet. A changing table. A cardboard box labeledEmergency Infant Suppliessitting on the floor beside the dresser.
It didn’t seem real yet.
Social services had arrived earlier than she’d expected. They’d done a quick walkthrough and had asked a handful of questions. The process had been relatively painless.
Now she’d signed the paperwork, nodded at the explanations, agreed when it was suggested that social services transport the baby—although part of her wished she’d gone to the hospital herself. She wished she’d had the chance to sit with Sissy one last time. To promise out loud that she’d protect Sissy’s daughter. That her baby wouldn’t disappear into the system.
But the choice had been made.
The dog, who’d hardly left her side since she got back last night, sat beside her.
She leaned down and rubbed his head. “I really need to give you a name, don’t I, good boy?”
She tried a few. None of them fit.
Maybe she shouldn’t name him at all—shouldn’t get too attached. Both he and the baby weren’t permanent. She’d be wise to remember that.
“In the meantime, I’ll just call you Good Boy. Does that work?”
His tongue came out in a look of contentment.
Good Boy it was. For now.
Her mom appeared in the doorway with a mug of coffee. “You okay?”
“I think so.”
“You don’t have to know what you’re doing yet,” Mom said. “None of us did the first time.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
In the kitchen a few minutes later, Caleb and Millie talked in low tones while Biscuit stayed close to Millie’s feet. Naomi’s eyes swept the room.
Micah wasn’t here.
Ofcoursehe wasn’t. Why would he be? Why did she feel disappointed?
Just then, Caleb’s phone buzzed. “Someone’s at the gate.”
Her heart pounded. That would be Karen with the baby.
Naomi drew in a slow breath.
There was no turning back now.
Through the side window, Naomi watched a white county vehicle pull to a stop—followed closely by Micah’s SUV.
Relief moved through her before she could stop it.
She tugged the door open. Micah wore his uniform, and the morning light caught the stubble along his jaw. Their eyes metbriefly, and something in her chest did something she didn’t want to examine.
Then she saw the carrier.
Karen held it against her forearm, one hand curved protectively beneath it. The little one inside was nestled in pale yellow blankets—a wisp of dark hair, pink skin, one tiny fist curled against the edge of the blanket like she was holding on to something, even in sleep.
Naomi’s throat went dry.
