thing.” The waitress jotted it down. “And for you?”
“Actually we’re waiting for someone, so maybe I’ll wait until he arrives.”
As if on cue, the bell above the door tinkled and Matt stepped inside, pulling off his sunglasses. He was out of uniform today, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt that strained slightly around his biceps. He glanced around the restaurant, his steely gaze falling on them.
“Oh, here he is,” Rachel said and smiled up at Matt as he approached the table. He slid into the chair opposite Rachel, and while they ordered soft drinks and a pepperoni pizza, she found herself studying his face. A pale scar cut past one eyebrow, a detail she hadn’t noticed earlier. He seemed gentler out of uniform, more accessible, less official. His sun-bleached hair had a touch of premature gray working through the front, and as he leaned his elbows on the tabletop, the scent of aftershave lingered.
“So, how are you liking Haggerston?” Matt asked after the waitress left the table.
“I’ve always loved this town,” she said. “I wanted to move here years ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My husband was with the Billings Fire Department, and he was happy there. He was climbing.” She shrugged. “What can you do?”
He nodded. “It’s hard to move on once your life is rooted somewhere else. I get that.”
“This is the perfect tiny town. The flowers on the street corners, the shops where everyone knows each other—”
“You like the idea of everyone knowing you?” he asked with a wry smile.
“Maybe?” She laughed softly. “In some ways it’s comforting, but I’m sure there is a flip side to the coin. What about you? How long have you lived here?”
“I grew up here, so if I’m not related to someone, I probably know them somehow.” He grinned. “Our waitress babysits my cousin’s kids.”
“Seriously?” Rachel looked back at the young woman taking another table’s order. “It’s a small world.”
“It’s a small town,” he corrected with a low laugh.
“Did you know my mom, Mr. Bailey?” Chris locked his gaze on the firefighter’s face, all the intensity of his seven years focused on the man across the table from him, and Rachel shifted uncomfortably. She knew that her son had questions, and it looked as though he was ready to ask a few of them.
“I just met her the other day, with you,” Matt replied, his gaze flickering toward Rachel.
“No, I mean my other mom,” he pressed. “The one who left me at the firehouse. Did you know her?”
Rachel’s stomach dropped. He’d been asking about his birth mother lately, and she somehow hoped that he would never need to know more about the woman than she’d already told him and that she could be enough. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t have the answers, either. All she wanted right now was to be able to fill in the gaps for him, to help soothe his unease and confusion.
“Uh...” Matt looked up at Rachel uncertainly, then back to the boy’s earnest gaze. “I never did find out who she was, buddy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Chris shrugged. “I just wondered.”
“You have a really good mom right here,” Matt said. “She loves you a whole lot.”
“Yeah, I love her, too.” Chris leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were still clouded.
The food arrived. A large pepperoni pizza oozing melted cheese and still sizzling from the oven was deposited in the center of the table. After everyone was served and Chris took a big bite of pizza, Rachel sucked in a deep breath.
“I know that Chris wants to hear about how he was found,” she said. Chris’s attention snapped up.
“Sure.” Matt cleared his throat. “Do you know anything about that night, Chris?”
“A little bit,” the boy replied past a cheek full of food.
“I was working the night shift, and I was watching a training video. Someone buzzed downstairs—a woman—asking me to come down. I didn’t know what to expect, so I went on down.”
“Was that my mom?” Chris asked after swallowing.
Every time Chris referred to his birth mother as “his mom,” it stung just a little. Rachel had imagined these conversations countless times over the years, but she’d never fully appreciated how difficult it was for a mother to share her child. She should have been discussing this with him long ago, and if she hadn’t been so crushed by Ed’s death, she would have.
“I’m assuming so,” Matt said with a nod. “When I got down there, she was gone, and you were there. In a box.”
“Was I small?”
“You were pretty tiny, buddy.”
“Did I cry?”
“A little bit. You were hungry.”
“So you fed me?”
“We had some bottles and formula on hand in case of emergency, and I guess you counted as an emergency. So I sat in a big armchair, and I fed you your bottle. You slurped that thing back like nobody’s business, and then you settled in for a nice nap.”
“How long did you hold him for?” Rachel asked softly.
“It took about three hours for Social Services to arrive. So I just sat there and held him. He was cold.” He glanced at Rachel uneasily, and she suspected there was more to the story, details he couldn’t share in front of Chris.
“What’s that services thing?” Chris asked.
“Social Services take care of people when they need help. They came to get you, and they found you a good home where you would be safe and loved. That’s how your mom and dad got you.”
“We got a call that night.” Rachel continued the story. “They said a baby needed a safe home, and they asked if we’d take care of you. We drove down and picked you up, and I knew the moment I saw you that I’d never let you go.”
“But what about my mom?” Chris asked, and Rachel pushed back the sting.
“I don’t know, Chris,” she said quietly. “Your birth mother left you at the fire station, and no one ever found out who she was. But I know that she wanted you to be safe. She brought you to the one place she could be sure that someone would take care of you.”
Chris put his attention back into his pizza, and when Rachel glanced back in Matt’s direction, she found his warm gaze enveloping her. He reached across the table and took her hand in his broad, warm grasp, giving her a squeeze. He released her fingers almost as quickly as he’d taken them, but she was grateful for the gesture.
“Chris, I saw some video games over there in the corner,” Matt said. He leaned
