by Sosie Frost
The boys—identical except for the color of their shoes—picked up their spoons and quieted down.
“Is she?”
One answered, his voice low. “No.”
“Then you do what I say. You might be big and tough out in that street,” Granna said. “But everyone looks the same when they hungry. In here, everyone’s the same.” She curled a finger towards me. “Even you, baby. Come here, give your Granna a hug. Lord I’ve missed you—”
I couldn’t remember anything else.
I blinked. The memory stayed. Somehow. But I couldn’t make sense without the rest of it. I felt the heat from the stove. Touched the chipped bowls on the table. Tasted the chicken soup which had simmered all day so the hungry kids in the neighborhood could have something warm in their bellies.
“I think I had a grandmother.”
Shepard’s eyebrows rose. “What do you remember?”
“It was just a flash.”
“That’s all we need.” He took the baby from my arms and gestured me to the dining room table. “I had a grandmother…but I don’t think she was blood. More like she was everyone’s grandma, if that makes sense.”
“Fixture of the community?”
“Or peacekeeper,” I said. “I went to college.”
“Remember where?”
I shook my head. “No. But I was home visiting. At least, it felt like home. It wasn’t an apartment like this. There were…” I closed my eyes and recalled anything I could still see. “Gang colors.”
Shepard chose his words carefully. “Not a good neighborhood?”
My gut twisted. “No, I don’t think so. But in that house? Everyone was safe. She made it that way.”
“Your grandmother?”
“The kids came to her for supper. And it didn’t matter what color they wore—just that they were hungry, and she fed them.” I rubbed my temples. “Damn. I can’t remember anything else.”
“It’s still a good sign, Evie.”
Was it?
I concentrated. The image of Granna stayed in my mind, but it wasn’t…familiar. Her face was no different from anyone else I’d passed once in the street. The plump, feisty woman had skin the color of coal, a will as strong as a diamond, and a tongue as sharp as glass.
But I didn’t know who she was.
I didn’t even know her name.
And I had no idea if she was still alive.
Clue gave Shepard a disappointed cry and wiggled in a quiet protest. He shushed her, but he shouldn’t have taken it personally.
“She’s just hungry, and you’re lacking the requisite parts.” I took her back. “I’ll take it from here. Can you check on the chicken in the oven? It should be done now.”
Shepard ducked into the kitchen, but he didn’t relay any good news. “Hey, Evie…did you forget something?”
“Only my entire life.”
“No…” He returned, brandishing a baking sheet with raw, pink chicken breasts jiggling on top. “You didn’t turn the oven on.”
I puffed the hair from my face. “Probably for the best. I forgot to season it too.”
Shepard retrieved his groceries and kicked the diapers to the corner. “Relax. I came prepared.”
He unloaded the bags and revealed two pre-prepared subs. I took the turkey, and he was more than content to keep the Italian. I hadn’t mastered eating with the baby attached to me, but I could pick at the bread while he scarfed down his sandwich.
I patted Clue as she happily nestled into my chest. “So why is it you’re always here when I need you?”
Shepard grinned. “There’s room in this place to install a bat-signal for me, but I’d prefer it if you call when you need help.”
“What if I’m interrupting you?”
“You’d be the best sort of interruption.”
I tried not to take the compliment. “Did you work today?”
“Worked a twelve, and I’m starving.”
“So…you worked all day, then you went to the grocery store to buy me diapers and dinner instead of going home?”
He brushed the crumbs from his hands. “I made you a promise.”
“Don’t you want to go home?”
“It’s more interesting here.”
I hummed. “Interesting for the case?”
“…Yeah.”
“I don’t believe you.” I bit my lip, channeling my inner Doctor Clark. “If I had to guess, I’d think you were looking for an excuse to stay away from home.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“No one’s waiting for you?”
Shepard lowered the sandwich, but he answered quickly. “No. Not anymore.”
It wasn’t my place to ask, but I flashed a stranger with a baby to my breast. We couldn’t get any more invasive than that.
“What happened?”
He quieted, but he didn’t change the subject. He rubbed a hand over his closely trimmed beard and sighed.
“I messed it up,” he said. “Same story you always hear. I never thought it’d happen to us.”
“Were you married?”
“Only to my job.”
I paused. “Were you in love?”
“I’m still in love.” His voice strengthened. “Those feelings don’t go away because she did.”
“So go find her.”
“Find her?”
“Take it from someone who is waiting to be loved.” I met his gaze. Big mistake. Beautiful mistake. “Nothing can be worse than knowing the one you’re meant to be with is out there, just as lonely and lost as you.”
His voice softened. “I don’t ever want you to feel lonely or lost.”
I smirked. “And she wouldn’t want you to feel the same.”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. It’s simple.”
“Is it?”
“You tell her you love her. That you want to be with her. That’s a no-brainer. But this?” I waved a hand over my apartment. “This is complicated.”
“Don’t let it be,” he said. “All you need to do is take care of that baby.”
“And then?”
“Then I take care of you.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Despite the charity, I’m fairly self-sufficient.”
“You are. But you’re also a troublemaker.”
“Me?”
“So that wasn’t you about to throw down with a social worker?” He chuckled. “And I suppose you had nothing to do with the traffic jam yesterday?”
“It was a diaper change.”
“It made the news.”
The surge of hope offset the shame. “Did anyone recognize me?”
“No. You weren’t mentioned. Be glad.”
“Why?”
“I had a hell of a time explaining what happened to my captain.”
“Are you covering for me?”
He took a bite of his sandwich. “Seemed the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a good cop? I wouldn’t think you’d tolerate that sort of injustice.”
He gave me a lazy grin. “Who says I do?”
“Oh, now I get it.” I pointed at him. “You like troublemakers.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
“Answer the question, Detective.”
“Is this an interrogation?”
I arched an eyebrow. “I get the feeling your ex-girlfriend wasn’t the goodie two-shoes type.”
“Not…exactly.”
“A bad girl?”
“She was…the best kind of girl.”
“And what am I?”
He paused, searching my own curious expression. “You tell me.”
“What if I don’t know? Does that mean I can change? Become whoever I want?”
“That’s up to you.”
“What if I just want to be…me?”
Shepard’s voice melted like chocolate. “Then I’d imagine you won’t be alone for much longer.”
Oh, this was bad.
So very bad.
The way he looked at me, the way he spoke, it was exactly what I needed to hear…
And that was the reason I stood, made a quiet excuse, and backed away from the table.
I couldn’t think while staring into those striking blue eyes. Couldn’t escape as he flexed his muscles and broad shoulders. His calloused hands folded over the table, and the tease of his hair caressed his cheek. He brushed it away and took my breath with it.
“I…I should get her back in her crib.” I swallowed, hard. “We both need a nap.”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I will in a bit. Promise.”
Shepard was slow to rise. He stared at me, his voice low. “Good. I should get home.”
But neither of us moved, only Clue, wiggling in delight now that her belly was full and she could cuddle in my arms as Shepard spoke.
I hated that she seemed to calm at the sound of his voice. Not when that caramel promise twisted me into such confusion.
“I’m off on Friday night,” he said. “Let me come by. I’ll bring you dinner.”
It wasn’t a question, but it sounded good to me for all the wrong reasons.
“You shouldn’t waste your day off on me,” I said.
“Consider it part of the investigation.” He tapped his temple. “You had a memory tonight, Evie. And I don’t think it was the first one to come back to you. This Friday night, you and me are going to work. We’re going to unlock some memories, and we’re going to get some answers.”
“Do you think it’s possible for me to remember?”
Shepard stood, serious and solemn. I trusted him, even if I wasn’t sure why.
“You remember more than you realize. And together…we’ll work through it.”
He didn’t speak of it as though it would be easy, joyous, or a relief once I regained those lost memories. For as much as I longed to remember, he was right.
Something shadowed my past.
But he offered to protect me.
So why was I so hesitant to accept his help?
6
Nothing good ever came in clusters…unless it was made of chocolate and peanuts.
Cluster feedings? More like cluster fuck.
I was tapped out. Empty. Running on fumes. The well had dried.
But, for the moment, Clue seemed satisfied.
I didn’t know if I could believe her.
Was a baby capable of deception? She certainly rocked sleep deprivation. Loaded diapers. Unfathomable fussiness.
A ham sandwich. That was all I needed in life. But I only had a spoon to spread the mustard, and getting the knife from the dishwasher felt like an inhuman feat of strength. Then again, the mustard also reminded me that I hadn’t checked Clue’s diaper before putting her down for the nap.
It was not worth waking her up.
The only thing in the world better than a quiet apartment was a sandwich made of soft bread, cheese, ham, with just a touch of something tangy.
Of course, I could have used a glass of wine to wash it down, but that wasn’t happening. I traded that fantasy for a goblet of whole milk.
The sandwich made it halfway to my mouth before the baby cried.
The miracle of life. Diapers. Crying. Nursing. Sleeping?
Ha. No.
More crying.
I had it good though. Other mothers probably got discouraged when they hit this point. They remembered a life pre-baby. The food. The sleep. The balm made for lips, not nipples. But I didn’t remember much of anything before Clue. We worked through the insanity together, one fussy feed at a time.
I took her from the crib and plopped onto the couch. Now was the best time to try out a new position to feed her. Most women attempted yoga during their life, but no humping-dog, forward plank, inverted elbow pose compared to trying to make a baby latch while on my side, eating a sandwich.
She’d have to deal with the bread on her head. I needed energy. A handful of pretzels wouldn’t cut it for Clue’s milk extravaganza tonight. I longed for meat. Protein. Something hearty.
Clue got her dinner for the fortieth time today. I aimed the sandwich for my mouth.
The first bite was delicious. The second slid out of the bread.
Splat.
Clue flinched and gave a squawk.
Damn it. A glob of mustard smooshed on her pretty little head.
But she was eating. She wasn’t fussing. And I was so damn tired.
“Here we go…” The sing-song rhythm in my voice wasn’t exactly maternal, more a break of sanity. I ripped off a slice of bread and used the clean side to mop up the blob of mustard rolling off my kid’s forehead. “Now you’re clean. Kinda.”
Clue furrowed her nose. So did I.
My kid smelled like a street-side hot dog vendor.
I sighed. She needed a bath. Maybe that would stop the fussing?
I shoveled the last bit of the sandwich into my face as Clue gnawed away, gobbling up what remained of my self-esteem. Without a name, family, or past, my milk production was pretty much the only source of my pride. These cluster feedings were causing a bit of mental strife.
I sat up, giving her back a little pat. Clue gave me a warning whine—a light gasp that signaled she was warming up for a full-fledged wail. Still hungry?
I poked at the dairy. “Come on, girls. Only eleven more months of this to go.”
Surprisingly, the boobs weren’t entirely titillated by the prospect.
I stood. My button-up shirt fell open. I didn’t care anymore. I’d have stripped off the damn thing if I wasn’t so sure the room’s chill wouldn’t twist the nips and turn the sprayer into a direct stream. Poor kid, gargling at the tap like she was drinking from a fire hose.
One of us needed a bath. As I was only moderately covered in mustard, I decided to let her have it.
“Remember this when I’m old and you’re changing my diapers,” I said. “I gave up showers for you.”
Clue didn’t appreciate the sacrifice. Then again, she had to cuddle next to me. And after eight solid hours of nursing, she hadn’t given me much of a chance to duck into the shower.
However, I had a moment of milk-drunk silence. And I took advantage of it.
I filled the tub and tested the water twice, but the instant her toes touched the bath, our rub-a-dub-fun was interrupted by a knock.
“You wanna get it or me?” I asked her.
Clue smacked her lips. Fair enough.
I wrapped her in a towel and headed to the door.
Shepard.
I hadn’t forgotten about him coming over tonight. Just the opposite.
I’d distracted myself in every way possible to not think about him. But checking the time was about all I could do while I camped on the couch with Clue. And that led to some dangerous thoughts.
Counting the minutes until a handsome, kind, hero of a man arrived to tease me with a smile and offer any help he could give.
And that was wonderful. And lovely.
And so…terrible.
The things I felt for him were not good to feel—especially while I waited for someone, anyone, out in the world to contact the police and find me.
Clue’s father waited out there. Somewhere. Even if it was three weeks since she’d been born.
I opened the door. My shirt fluttered open.
Shepard hesitated, crock pot in his hands. His eyebrows rose.
“I can’t tell if this greeting is an improvement or a surrender.”
“Oh, this is not a surrender.” I let him inside and buttoned my shirt. Fatigue made toddlers of us all, and I accidentally skipped two holes and popped a button before I’d finished. “This isn’t a physical challenge—its psychological. Clue is cluster feeding, and the books say it’s a growth spurt. She’s training me to increase my milk supply.”
“Oh?”
I pointed to my chest. “So Daisy and Buttercup are working overtime right now. I’m fed. Hydrated. As rested as I can be.
If this is the most challenging part of the newborn phase, then I’ve got it. I’ve studied. I’ve conquered. I’m surviving. I can do it!”
“You’ve buttoned your nipple into your shirt.”
Damn it.
That little peeper went numb on me sometime in the afternoon. I untangled the ta-ta and vowed to stay positive.
“But it didn’t leak!” I grinned. “The point is…I’m getting used to this. I’ve even been experimenting.”
He took the crock pot to the kitchen. “Experimenting?”
“I had a few things to figure out in the shower. Flow rate. Volume. Distance.”
“And your findings?”
“Surprisingly entertaining if not thoroughly wasteful.”
Shepard’s smirk wasn’t condescending. The little upturn of his lip hid within his trimmed beard, but it wasn’t a tease.
He was proud.
And I had no idea why that felt so wonderful to me.
Or familiar.
“What did you bring us?” I rocked Clue in my arms. “And can I sleep in it?”
“I made us dinner. Mind if I use your kitchen?”
“You brought me food. At this point, you could ask any favor of me and I’d deliver.”
“It’s a good thing I’m a gentleman.”
Was it? “Not sure I’d have anything to offer that’d please you right now.”
“Just talking to you pleases me, Evie.”
I stilled. So did he.
And the rush of warmth tingling head to toe wasn’t just the milk letting down.
This was every hope and dream, fantasy and thought, wish and loneliness I’d endured for the past three weeks whipping my emotions. If my heart didn’t stop beating in my chest, it’d churn everything into butter.
And then I’d melt just like it.
I took a breath. “Well, if you can excuse this excellent conversationalist for a moment…there’s a mustard stain the size of Texas on Clue’s forehead. I should scrub her clean.”
“How did that happen?”
“Kids these days. They read about some new facial cleanser on the internet, and they’ll try anything. I told her she was too young for wrinkle cream…she’s still pruned from the womb.”