Lord, she prayed silently. Is this real? Is she really going to be mine?
As she watched Greg’s car pull out of her drive and disappear, she smelled something, and she laughed softly to herself. Well, one thing was very real tonight, and it was this diaper. It looked as though things were just beginning!
* * *
As Chief Greg Taylor walked back into the Haggerston Police Station, he stifled a yawn. It had been a long day, to say the least, and as he strode through the town’s small station, the officers he passed glanced up and gave him polite nods. The station always looked busy, with telephones ringing, officers coming and going and the general hubbub that came with twenty-odd people focused on their own work. It might not be considered much compared to a city station, but for a place the size of Haggerston, it was something. It might look like chaos to an untrained eye, but to Chief Taylor, who had spent his entire adult career as a cop, it was a smoothly oiled machine...or at least as oiled as discipline, training and several gallons of coffee could make it.
“Hey, Chief!” A sergeant waved a file at him. “Some paperwork from that 11-80 the other day. You want it on your desk?”
“I’ll take it.” Chief Taylor grabbed the file on his way by and headed around the desks toward his office at the far side of the station. He tossed the file on his desk and swung the door shut behind him. He stood in the relative quiet and glanced at his watch. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number to the Shady Pines Nursing Home.
“Shady Pines,” the nurse’s voice sang.
“Hi, this is Chief Taylor. I’m just wondering how my mother is doing.”
“Hi, Chief, this is Fran. Your mom had quite a good day. She had her favorite dinner tonight—Salisbury steak.”
“Oh, good.” He felt the smile come to his lips. “And how is she...otherwise?”
“She’s been confused.” Sympathy entered the nurse’s tone. “She wouldn’t let us bathe her today, but we’re hoping that by later this evening, she’ll be calmer. Sometimes evening routines have a more relaxing effect on her.”
Greg ran a hand through his hair. “Do you need me to come by?”
“You’re always welcome, Chief, but she’s been very wary around men again today. I’m not sure it would do much good.”
He nodded, more to himself than to the nurse on the other end of the call. “Well, keep me posted. I’ll call back later.”
“Absolutely, Chief. You have a good evening.”
He hung up the phone and picked up the file on his desk. His shift had been over for two hours already, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to go home. His mind was still on that 11-80.
11-80. It was easier to refer to it numerically than to voice the reality of the situation. It had been a terrible car accident with crumpled metal, leaking fuel and a gravely injured driver. The semitruck that hit the little car was relatively unharmed, and the truck driver was incredibly shaken, but in one piece, which was more than could be said for the occupant of the car. He tried to push the mental images out of his head, but the one that remained was the pleading face of the injured mother, her face covered in blood and her eyes filled with fear.
“Her name is Emily Shaw. She’s Cora’s godmother. You have to call her. Please. I don’t want my baby with a stranger. You have to call her!”
He’d sworn that he would, and there was something about that young mother’s intensity, her insistence that he take care of this, that stuck with him. Fourteen hours later, that little baby became an orphan when her mother succumbed to her injuries and passed away in the E.R., and the least he could do was fulfill that frightened mother’s last wishes and personally bring the baby to Emily Shaw. Which he had done this afternoon. The baby was now settled with her godmother. Job complete, right?
So why couldn’t he let it go? Why was Emily’s face now swimming in his mind, too?
But the image of Emily Shaw, with her dark, wavy hair and her sparkling eyes, didn’t bring up the same anxiety and guilt that the other images did. A young, dying mother, terrified for her baby. His own mother, suffering from Alzheimer’s, unaware of who he was. A tiny infant, orphaned by a fatal accident. Yet there was something comforting in that calm kindergarten teacher with her disheveled papers and self-deprecating laugh. While he knew that his professional position didn’t make a personal relationship with her very appropriate, thinking about Emily Shaw was infinitely more pleasant than the other options.
He’d pick up those baby things the officers had collected and bring them by. Maybe that would tie up this case in his head and let him move on.
Chapter Two
The next afternoon, Greg pulled into Emily’s drive in his unmarked squad car and parked. He sat motionless for a moment or two, listening to the background noise of voices on the police radio. Apparently, there was a 10-33—a triggered security alarm—from a locked store. Across town another officer was taking a Code 8—a restroom break. Like most things, that just sounded better in a numerical code than to state the obvious. Greg’s thoughts weren’t on the voices, however. He found himself feeling somewhat nervous, something he didn’t feel very often. He took a deep breath and opened the car door.
Emily’s home sprawled just south of the small community of Haggerston. A bungalow-style rancher, it had a large yard hemmed in by a log fence. The effect was quite rustic, and he liked it. The well-maintained yard sported flower beds arranged naturally, as if little patches of flowers and leafy plants had just decided to push up around a rock or a tree, although in Montana, that sort of natural sprouting rarely happened without a good deal of loving care. Her front door had a woven twig wreath hanging on it, and he imagined that come the holiday season, it would be festooned with berries and holly. Her windows were covered with shuttered blinds that were open at the moment, letting the summer light in and keeping prying eyes out. As a police officer, he approved of her use of privacy.
In the trunk, Greg had several bags and boxes of baby things he’d picked up from the station, and he carried them to her front door before ringing the bell. He didn’t hear anything for a few moments, and he was about to ring again when he heard the sound of footfalls. Her peephole darkened for a moment. Then the lock scraped, and she pulled the door open.
Emily stood in the doorway, her hair still damp from a shower, wearing a pair of jeans and a loose, pink blouse that brought out the color in her cheeks. Her hair had left wet patches on her shoulders, and her face was makeup free. She looked fresh, albeit a little tired, the warm June breeze tugging at some wisps of hair around her face that were drying faster than the rest.
“Hi.” She angled her head to gesture him inside. “Wow, that’s a lot of boxes.”
He looked at the pile next to the door and nodded his agreement.
“I’ve been assured that all of it is absolutely necessary,” he said. “I took their word for it.”
She smiled, her eyes meeting his with a sparkle of amusement. “I hope this isn’t too far out of your way.”
“We’ve all taken a personal interest in Cora.” He gave Emily a shrug. “And you’re her new mom.”
“Well...” A glimmer of something crossed her face, and
