by Sosie Frost
She liked this part less than me.
First came the unswaddling. She treated it as if I were removing her skin instead of the blanket.
Then the unbuttoning of her onesie. Surely a torture worse than dunking stools and thumb tacks.
Finally came the dirty diaper. For whatever reason, Clue decided she was irreparably attached to the diaper. She screamed as I removed it, even though I was pretty sure I got the worst end of the deal.
“Is she okay?” Shepard called from the living room.
She was five days old and already getting me in trouble. I shouted back. “Changing a diaper must be in violation of the Geneva Convention. Just petition the UN on my behalf while I grab a wipe.”
Fortunately, the baby was no longer passing the contents of the Lorena tar pits through her diaper. That stage of her infancy was now over, thank God. I never thought I’d be so pleased to find the new present awaiting me—one that resembled spilled Dijon mustard.
Unfortunately, that meant I’d never again eat the condiment. Motherhood changed us all, and that included deli orders.
Clue wasn’t as impressed about her digestive developments. Despite the books and internet insisting that her newfound poo meant that I was doing a bang-up job, the diaper change was a betrayal of trust that drew the battle lines right through the Pampers.
I became the enemy. The unknown. Everything wrong with a world that was just as cold, unfamiliar, and distressing to the baby as it was to me.
I mean, the wipes were cold, but Clue waxed melodramatic about getting a clean butt.
I double checked my work—following the instructions from the nurses and the printed directions on the diaper package. Within minutes, Clue was clean, dry, and even more agitated.
But something looked wrong. I lifted her up and compared the diaper to the picture on the package.
Backwards. Fantastic. Still, it covered the more volatile areas. What was the worst that could happen? She was hungry and it was past dinnertime. No time to redo it. I battled her kicking legs, tossed the onesie back on, and wrapped the blanket around her in a picture-perfect swaddle.
Too little, too late, but at least now I was the only one who needed to undress.
“Five-minute diaper change!” I grinned at the baby. “Not quick enough yet, but you’re giving me plenty of practice.”
Clue didn’t share my optimism.
I booped her nose. “Okay. Let’s get you fed so you can fill the diaper again.”
I triple checked that I was carrying her safely and cleared my path of any obstacles. Clothes. Boxes. I even cautiously picked my way through the doorway in case the air-conditioning caused a pressure differential and the door swung shut. Insane? Yes, but at least I was prepared.
Unfortunately, this particular dinner theater was not a three-person show. I prepared my apology to Shepard, but I stopped in place as he extended a hand toward the coffee table to present my newly assembled baby glider.
“Did you…” I asked.
He didn’t let me finish. “Looked like you needed help.”
“That wasn’t necessary. I could have done it.”
He smiled. Warm. “I don’t mind. Is everything okay with the baby?”
“So far.”
He nodded, studying the boxes stacked in the corner of the room. His eyes narrowed on the crib.
“Let me build that for you.”
I sighed. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to build my baby furniture.”
“And I’m sure you’d like to put her in the crib tonight,” he said. “Take a seat.”
“Really, I can manage on my own. This isn’t exactly in your job description.”
“All part of the protect and serve package.”
Yeah, I did not need to be thinking about his package—not while Shepard heaved the giant, hundred-pound box into the center of the living room, muscles flexing. His slacks tugged as he knelt, and I imagined enough of Detective Novak that it felt wrong to look without a search warrant.
And I lived the consequences of admiring a handsome man. A bundle of cuteness in my arms spoke to my experience. Too bad I didn’t remember any of it.
“I should feed her.”
He waved a plastic baggie filled with nuts, bolts, and screws. “Go ahead. I’m not in any hurry.”
“Should you be out saving lives or stopping the evil doers? What if there’s a car parked at an expired meter?”
“I was off the clock at 4:00.” He spread the contents of the crib over the living room floor. “I told the station I was finishing here today.”
“Don’t you want to get home?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to feed your baby?”
“It’s an involved process.”
“Evie…is it okay if I call you Evie?”
“Got a lead on any other name?”
“Evie, I’m sorry. I have no information to give you. No one has called. There’s no easy way to track where you came from before the accident. We’re waiting now for something to break. So, I thought I’d help you out here. Make sure you were okay.”
“Are you feeling that guilty?”
“More than you realize,” he said. “It’s not every day I escort a speeding ice cream truck carrying a woman in labor to the hospital. You’re definitely my most interesting case.”
Interesting didn’t mean solvable. “Are you sure you haven’t heard from anyone? Someone out there has to know who I am.”
Shepard pulled the plastic from the wooden slats and exhaled. He didn’t look at me. “No. Sorry.”
Fantastic.
I couldn’t let myself get upset. God only knew if it would sour the milk, and I certainly didn’t like the thought of curds anywhere near my lovelies.
Besides, I couldn’t do much to find my family now. My best course of action was to take life one breast-feed at a time. That would keep me on track, and I could stay focused on what was important.
The baby.
And me.
The only way I’d managed to feed her was on the couch surrounded with a geometrically optimal arrangement of pillows, blankets, baby, and boob. I wiggled into the corner and angled myself between the back and arm.
“Um…” I cleared my throat. “Could you…turn? Please?”
Shepard glanced up from the instructions, eyebrows raised. “Oh. Not a problem.”
“I don’t know if I’m doing it right yet, and a cover just makes the whole operation a mystery.” I laughed. “So, I’m sorry, I have to let it all out there. Hell, I’m not even sure the kid wants a front row seat to this circus.”
“Well, she is sitting in the splash zone.”
“If only. You have no idea how much more confident I’d feel if that were the case.”
“I’m sure you’re doing fine.”
“As long as I find my way to the barn once we’re done…” I soothed Clue with a soft hush. “Though you can imagine my disappointment when I realized I didn’t produce chocolate milk.”
“It’s still early in the process.” He grinned. “Maybe that’s an advanced technique.”
“Something to strive for. Olympic expressing. Gold medal ducts.”
He adjusted the various pieces of crib, packaging, and components before him. Like a gentleman, he kept his back to me.
“So…what’s her name?” he asked.
A valid question, especially when I was about to stuff a boob in her mouth. She seemed eager, but I had no idea if I was doing well or not. I only hoped my let down would come in milk form and not perpetual disappointment.
“I gave the nurses a name—but I don’t know if it’s right,” I said. “This is hard. What if I gave her the wrong name? Like, what if I called her Sarah, but the real me—the one with memories and instincts—wanted to call her Sasha? I don’t know. I don’t want to be mad at myself once I’m healed.”
“You could always change it.”
“Believe me, the kid’s gonna get screwed up enough. The last t
hing I want to do is call her one name for a couple days and then confuse her with a completely new identity.” I watched as her breathing shifted into tiny little gulps. That must have meant I did something right. “For now, I’m calling her Clue.”
“Clue, huh?”
“I figured you’d like that, Detective. She’s my only clue about who I am and where I come from.”
“I like it.”
“I don’t.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“I’d rather her have a real name. A real home. A real family.” I shrugged. “A mother who knows who she is and where they’re from.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting disheartened already?”
“I never back down from a challenge.”
“How can you be sure?” He grinned. “You don’t know who you are.”
Smart-ass. I hummed. “Well, I’m one-for-one on impossible challenges now. Setting a good precedent.”
“True. Still, it would help me if you could remember anything at all.”
The crib started to take shape. He bolted three of the four legs together and rested the crib against the wall.
I shook my head. “Nothing. I should remember building her a crib. Painting the nursery walls. Buying clothes. But it’s all a fog.”
“Well, at least you’re settled here. This is a great apartment.”
“I don’t feel right taking it.”
“Why not?”
I studied the living room—the tall ceilings and hardwood, fireplace and huge windows overlooking the city. The kitchen was made of granite, the bathrooms the same, and my bed a fluff of king-sized softness.
“I don’t know much about myself, but I have a feeling this place is better than where I came from.”
“What makes you say that?”
Aside from my panicked gut-churning reaction around even the most helpful of police officers? “Let’s just say, I thought the bidet was a water feature in the bathroom.”
“Dancing fountain?”
“Oh, I was the only one dancing.” I stroked Clue as she settled against me, her eyes getting heavy. “I don’t think I came from a place as ritzy as this.”
“Think you lived in the city?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about types of people you might have known? Places where you liked to eat?”
“I might have to try the fanciest French restaurant in Ironfield—see if I recognize it.”
“Not the cheapest science experiment.” He laughed. It was a nice laugh. That was the sort of laugh I wished I recognized. “What about family? Do you have anything? Flashes. Names? Even a feeling?”
“You’ll be the first I tell.”
He nodded, wrench in hand. The crib stood on its own—three panels attached. He aimed for the springs next, plopping them into place and lying beneath the furniture to secure all the screws.
“There’s no pressure,” Shepard said. “I’m sure the doctors told you—stress won’t help you remember.”
I laughed. “Do you have experience with amnesiacs?”
“You’d be surprised what people choose not to remember during my interrogations.”
“Maybe they’d be more cooperative if you built their furniture too.”
“We can try it…but I don’t do dishes.”
“Laundry?”
“Only if you like your clothes shrunk and tinted pink.”
I winked. “What luck. Most of the clothes we have are tiny and pink. Can’t do any more damage here.”
He flipped the wrench in his hand and steadied the springs. “I doubt there’s that much damage.”
“Just brain.”
“It seems temporary.” He snuck a peek at me from under the crib. “You’re doing good now.”
“I’m sitting still.”
“You’re feeding her.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. From my perspective, it looks like she’s feeding herself.”
“But you know how to change her. How to soothe her if she cries. How to put her down for a nap.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Are you convincing me or yourself?”
“Busted?” he asked.
“You’re interrogating me…but you’re also putting together my furniture. I’ll permit it.”
“You got me,” he said. “This happens to an investigation into your case…and I’m here for a welfare check.”
“So what do you think, Officer?”
He tapped the crib. “I think Clue’s going to sleep like a baby in this thing.”
“That’s the plan.”
“But I have to know…” His voice turned serious. “Do you need anything other than this crib?”
“If you’re offering, you could move her dresser into the nursery. That’d be a big help.”
“Of course. But that wasn’t what I meant. Do you think you’re capable of handling this alone?”
“The hospital discharged me,” I said. “The nurses and doctors seemed confident.”
“I know.”
“And I’m taking care of her.” I didn’t dare gesture to the baby, not when she finally had a perfect latch.
“Good. I’m just doing my job. Trying to make sure this doesn’t become…a situation.”
I had a dry, happy baby munching down her dinner. For the first time in days, things were working in my favor. “We’re in one hell of a situation, but I can do this.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to harden my voice with the baby in my arms, so I scowled instead.
“I might not know where I am, where I came from, or who made this kid with me, but if someone hands me a baby, I’m going to raise her. And I’m going to do it right. That’s the kind of woman I am.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m doing it now, aren’t I? I’m keeping this baby fed, safe, and warm.”
Shepard stood, but he kept his eyes on the assembled crib. “Your baby.”
“What?”
“You’re keeping your baby fed, safe, and warm.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No. It isn’t.” He turned to me. “You said this baby.”
Damn it. “I’ve had an hour and a half of sleep in the last twenty-four. Cut me some slack on the adjectives.” I adjusted Clue closer to me. “She’s my baby.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I don’t remember being pregnant or giving birth. It’s a shock.” I huffed. “Do you want me to show you the stitches? What about the mobile dairy? That’s dynamite proof to me.”
“I believe you.”
“Do you?”
“I’m just here to listen. And I’m hearing uncertainty. That’s all.”
He had to be a detective. I clenched my jaw, but I wouldn’t let him win this one. “You want to know the truth? I’ll tell you, but it changes nothing. I’m still her mother.”
Shepard nodded. “I’m trying to help, Evie.”
“Then help me,” I said. “You’re right. This is very strange. And I am out of my element. I look at this baby…” Absolutely innocent and nuzzled to my breast. “And it feels like babysitting. Like I’m trying to keep her happy and healthy so that she’d be ready for her real mom.”
“Real mom?”
I tapped my head. “Me. But me with all my memories and preparation. Both of us are waiting for her to come back.” I met his gaze, those blue eyes not nearly as sharp now, just compassionate. “And we’re both waiting for her daddy.”
He focused again on the crib, tucking the mattress into the frame. His words softened.
“Evie, I think you’re going to do great.”
“Do I meet your expectations?”
“You’ve exceeded them. I thought you’d be…”
I answered for him. “I’m too tired to panic.”
“Good.”
“Someone will come for us.” I had to be optimistic. “I know he’s out there. Waiting. Worrying. Trying to find us. It’
s only a matter of time.”
“You’re right,” Shepard said. “And, in the meantime, Clue should have a nice place to sleep.”
“Speedy build too. If I had to guess, I’d say you built one of these before.”
His expression darkened. He said nothing and looked away, kicking the packaging into the box.
Uh-oh. I’d treaded a little too deep into his own secrets, and neither of us liked the implication.
“Can I help with anything else?” He changed the subject.
“I don’t need help. I need a memory.”
“The offer stands.”
I chuckled. “You want to take a shift feeding her?”
“No, that’s definitely…your department.”
“Then you’ve done more than enough, Detective Novak.”
“Call me Shepard.”
“First name basis now?”
“We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m working your case.” He pulled a card from his pocket and set it on the coffee table, careful to avoid the copious amounts of bare breasts and illustrations from my hospital packets. “I want you to call me the instant you think of anything—even the smallest memory. A feeling. A name. Day or night, at any hour, you call me.”
“Really?”
“The most insignificant detail to you is valuable to me. Got it?”
“Okay.” I’d have stood, but Clue wasn’t quite finished yet. “I appreciate the help.”
He nodded. “You can trust me. If you need anything, I’m here.”
I believed him. “Thanks, but we probably won’t even be on our own for long. I know my memory will return any minute now.”
“In that case…” He winked. “Call me to celebrate.”
“Absolutely.”
And I would be sure to only speak to him over the phone.
That man was too handsome, and my hormones too unpredictable, to let myself get trapped in his blue-eyed possession once again. I had enough problems to wrestle without sorting through an attraction to the handsome cop in charge of my case.
I was exhausted, but that didn’t excuse such thoughts. I had a newborn in my lap. A life I couldn’t remember. A future to protect.
I couldn’t depend on a gorgeous detective to help me. I knew what I had to do.