Allison nodded. “Okay. Well, just remember, this will likely be very short-term.” The thought drenched me in sadness. But this is what fosteringwas. Short-term. And of course Maisy would get adopted soon. Probably by a sweet, happy couple who couldn’t have children of their own and were dying to love her. It would be the best-case scenario. Better than a couple of teenagers trying to scrape out an existence and, tired and cranky, not being able to give much to her.
At least, that was what I had to tell myself. It was hard to justify, that I knew who Maisy’s parents were and hadn’t told the truth about it. I needed to do some hard looking in the mirror as to why that was. And I would. Because truth was truth, and it needed to be in the world. But not now. Today, I would just be happy with the baby who had felt like she was a part of my heart since the moment I first laid eyes on her.
“Now, just a reminder that you will need respite, Daisy. Any responsible adult that you would trust with your own child is a suitable short-term caregiver under North Carolina state law.”
I nodded. I knew she had to tell me these things even though I knew them.
“And if anything comes up, I’m just a phone call away, all right?”
I nodded again.
“And if any health issues arise—”
I interrupted her. “Allison, I’m a nurse. I’ve got this. She is perfectly healthy. I checked myself. And if that changes, she’s in the best possible hands.”
Allison smiled. “I know. That’s why Iinsistedthat you get her.”
“You did?”
She nodded. Allison looked down at the baby as she started to fuss. “It’s okay,” she said, jostling her lightly. The fussing turned into a full-on cry.
“Oh no!” Allison said over the noise. “I can’t leave you in your first foster moment with a screaming baby!”
I laughed. “Screaming babies are kind of what I do!”
Allison gingerly handed Maisy to me. I propped her up on my shoulder, and the moment she snuggled her face into my neck, she stopped crying and sighed. She pulled her little legs up into me. She knew me. I wasn’t her mother, but I had been her safe place.
Allison’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “She looks like she’s about to fall asleep.”
I turned to inhale that sweet baby smell and held her up close to me. I reminded myself that this was going to be hard, that single parenthood was not for the faint of heart. I didn’t say it out loud to Allison, but Maisy was mine. I didn’t carry her or give birth to her, but somehow, way deep down, I knew this tiny baby felt the same eternal connection to me as I did to her.
Mason crossed my mind, but I pushed him away as I told Allison goodbye. This wasn’t about him. It was about Maisy. And it was about me. And it was about this child having the stability and love in her life that I hadn’t quite gotten. Nope, I wouldn’t have said it out loud yet, but, in my heart, I was one hundred percent sure: When and if the sixty days were up and no one had claimed Maisy, my paperwork would be ready and waiting. I was going to adopt our little Jane Doe.
TILLEYA Little Bit of a Mess
Sure, Tilley might have taken the curve a little too fast. But she couldn’t help herself. She had forgotten how muchfundriving could be. Why had she quit doing this? Had her parents taken her license once she had hidden away for too long from the real world? Or had Elizabeth been the one to make that call after they died? Or had Tilley simply stopped driving with no real thought to the matter? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that, with the top down in Mason’s vintage Bronco, she was addicted to driving. This was freedom. This was fun.
“Aunt Tilley!” Mason scolded, white-knuckling the dashboard. “You have got to slow down around the curves!”
“No, no, no,” she said. “The saying is, ‘Acceleratethroughthe apex.’?”
“Sure!” Mason said. “When you aren’t already going fifteen over the speed limit, which, I hate to tell you, you are.”
Ah. Well then. No wonder it was so much fun. Tilley reached over and patted Mason’s hand, which was still clutching the dash. “All right, all right. You can relax. I’ll slow down.”
Mason exhaled deeply and leaned back in the seat as Tilley chuckled. He rubbed his forehead. “Tilley, I’ve lived through a lot of scary things, but this one takes the cake.”
“Oh, the dramatics,” she said. She glanced at him and grinned. “So what will your official report be to my sister?”
He sighed. “Officially, you are a terrific driver, and the independence will do you good.”
“You doll.”
He turned to look at her. “To be clear, I will be lying.”
“Well, sure, honey.”
Tilley could think of several specific instances when she’d helped cover for Mason when he came in past curfew but she’d sworn she had seen him—or she’d claimed that he had slept at Dogwood when, in fact, she had never laid eyes on him.
