by Sosie Frost
No warning. No preparation. Not even a cushion to slide under your ass once you read the results.
“Pregnant.”
Oh God. It sounded like such a horrible word. Ugly almost. Like it was defined only by swollen feet and stretch marks.
Why didn’t the little plastic prophet come with a better word than pregnant?
Like…expecting? Or family? Or…
Miracle?
Pregnant.
We were having a baby.
“Well…?” His voice melted every part of me. The anticipation.
His hope.
“Yes.” I stared only at the test. “We did it.”
“Wow.” His arms crossed over my belly, and his kiss tickled my neck. “I was hoping we could try some more.”
“We can do even better.” I placed my hand over his. “We can celebrate.”
As usual, I didn’t see the man in my memories.
Just heard his voice. Felt his touch.
Missed him with every damn beat of my heart.
It was getting harder now. Harder to ignore. Harder to be alone. Harder to think about.
And so I didn’t. I paced the living room and checked my phone for the tenth time in a minute.
Where the hell was he?
The knock came five minutes too late. I flung the door open and hauled Shepard into the apartment.
“Evie, what the hell is going on?”
His shirt was unbuttoned. He tripped over untied shoes, and he brushed his hair with only his fingers. Apparently, my call woke him up at six in the morning.
So why the hell did it take him fifteen minutes to get here?
“Are you okay?” He stopped in the entryway. “You said it was an emergency?”
I tugged on his hand, dragging him down the hall. “I’m sorry, but I needed your help. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“What’s wrong?”
He must have read the terror on my face. “Jesus, is it Clue?”
He bolted to the nursery and dove at the crib. Clue wiggled inside, bundled up tight in her blanket. His fingers clutched the crib, but he shook his head.
“Evie, she’s fine? What’s wrong?”
“Wait.” I held a hand out. “Just wait.”
Shepard stared at Clue. She stared back.
“Just wait,” I whispered.
The poor thing. Maybe she was too hot now?
I had no freaking idea what to do.
“Evie—”
“Wait.” I listened, hard. “Just…wait…wait…”
“Wait for…what?”
She was going to make a liar out of me.
It didn’t matter. I’d heard it. All night. And my heart hadn’t stopped racing.
“Evie, I think you need to—”
Aschoo!
I gripped my chest over my heart. “Did you hear it?”
Shepard paused. “Was that a…sneeze?”
“Or a cough!”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know!”
“Evie.”
“She’s sick!”
Shepard nudged the blanket and pillow tangled on the floor next to the crib. “Did you…sleep in here?”
“Figured it out without even dusting for prints?”
“You don’t think that was a bit drastic?”
“I know what you’re going to say, but I am not crazy. I had her monitor up to my ear all night just to listen to her breathe. She was so congested and kept making that little coughing, snorty, grunty sound. It scared the hell out of me. Then, suddenly, I didn’t hear her making it anymore. I panicked—”
“Evie.”
“So I camped out on the floor, and—”
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Do I ever?” I bit my lip. “I’m really worried.”
“She sneezed once. If it was even a sneeze.” Shepard cradled Clue against his chest. His voice softened as he spoke to her. “We don’t even know if it was a sneeze. Might have been a cough. Might have been a—”
Ahshoo!
He stilled. His hand rubbed over her tummy, but he stopped and listened hard. “I think she might be congested.”
“Oh God.”
“That was a sneeze,” he said.
“Oh no.”
“She might be sick.”
My world collapsed.
Nightmares of rogue ice cream trucks faded.
I pinched my eyes shut. The night before last, a knife in the dishwasher had triggered a memory. The flash of steel. Some punk juvie reject stealing my purse for drug money.
Like I didn’t know to keep my cash and phone on my body.
Still, in that moment, I had been scared. But even a mugging wasn’t as terrifying as those four words.
She might be sick.
I grabbed the baby and marched to the bathroom. He followed, but I pointed him to the papers stacked on my kitchen counter.
“Doctor Reece. He’s the pediatrician. Call and tell him I’m coming.”
Shepard made a mistake. “I think you have to get an appointment first…”
I wasn’t listening. I turned the shower on full-blast, letting the scalding water pebble the empty tub. The steam filled the room with a moist heat.
“Tell them the baby is sick,” I said. “I demand to see the doctor.”
“She’s got a cold.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s a baby. And she’s sneezing. It’s a cold.”
“You can’t be sure.”
He sighed. “What else would it be?”
The wrong question to ask an under-fed, exhausted, worried mother. “Who knows? She’s sneezing. Coughing. Congested. It could be anything.”
“Like a cold,” he said.
“Meningitis.”
“The sniffles.”
“The flu.”
“A stuffy nose.”
“Zika!”
“Zika?”
“It’s on the news.”
He groaned. “She doesn’t have Zika!”
“Malaria then.”
“Evie.”
“West Nile!”
He rubbed the exhaustion from his face. “I can guarantee you—she does not have a mosquito born illness.” He shrugged. “Though we shouldn’t rule out kuru…”
“Oh god.”
“Relax. I’m joking…unless you’re feeding her a healthy dose of brains.”
I scowled. “We’ll see what happens when I kick your a-s-s for scaring me.”
“She’s going to be fine.”
“Please call the doctor for me.”
I held his gaze.
God, I had missed those eyes. The sun-bleached blonde streak in his hair. The confident angle of his chin. When he spoke, he convinced me that everything would be fine.
“I’ll call,” he said. “Try to relax.”
I closed the door and let the shower steam up the room. I kissed Clue’s forehead. Uh-oh. Did she feel hot? Or was that morning baby head feel? She always ran a little toasty. But this? This might have been more than toast. Maybe a bake? Less than a broil.
“It’s gonna be okay.” I whispered to her. She stared up at me. No smiles today, and I always got a smile now. Since I’d lost Shepard’s, hers were the only comfort I had.
“We’ll get you fixed up.”
I hoped.
I had been without memories for almost six weeks.
I’d been struck by an untimely ice cream truck. Given birth. Been handed a newborn. Sent out into the world on my own, relying on the charity of others.
And a single sniffle terrified me more than any forgotten past or missing future.
The bathroom steamed up, and I hoped the humidity would both help her congestion and freshen me up. The woman gazing back at me in the mirror wasn’t anyone I knew. She cradled a baby in her arms with curly hair begging for a headband and an expression of resolute exhaustion. She meant nothing to me, but the little baby looked at her as if she were the gre
atest thing in the world.
Clue snuggled against me, comforted and warm, but dribbling a little something gross from her nose. The heat helped her, but I wasn’t satisfied.
This little baby was the only link I had to who I was, where I was going, what I was even doing on this planet. I couldn’t let anything harm her, not even a cold.
Shepard rapped on the door.
I didn’t care how uncomfortable it was for me to see him. I ignored the ache when I looked at him and the shame that lashed at me for daring to feel anything but gratitude towards him.
“The office said they could squeeze you in, but we might have to wait.”
“That’s fine.” I swallowed. Now for the moment of truth. “Can I…could you give us a ride?”
Shepard stood a gentlemanly three feet from me. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It’s for the baby.”
“And believe me, I’d do anything for her.” His eyebrows rose. “But, Evie…”
That moment of soul-crushing hesitation was all I needed. “You’re right. Never mind. I’ll take the bus.”
“Absolutely not “I’ll call the station—tell them I’ll be late. It’s no problem.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not going to let you do this alone.” He smirked. “Besides, if the doctor says you’re overreacting, someone should be there to restrain you.”
“I am not overreacting.”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Take it out on the doctor, not me. Let’s get her bundled up and hit the road.”
Good enough for me. We spent a good ten minutes soaking in the bathroom’s humidity before I felt that she was decongested enough to risk the trip. I packed her diaper bag, changed her, and wrapped her up in two layers and a blanket. Clue fussed a bit, but aside from a more defined sneeze, she seemed okay, especially in her first car ride.
“This will be the only time you’ll ever sit in a patrol car,” I told her. “Even undercover.”
Shepard strapped the car seat into the back of the Charger and ensured she was cozy. And why wouldn’t she be? The car was beautiful, new, and meticulously cleaned. Not the best recipe for an infant who was under the weather. Stains abound.
“Hey.” Shepard chastised me as I turned in the passenger seat to check on her. “That seat-belt comes off? I’ll write you a ticket.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m a good cop.”
“You’re a hard-ass.”
“If you got it, flaunt it.”
And he did, the bastard. In the tailor fit suit or the navy-blue police uniform, he knew he looked good. That was part of the problem.
I twisted, keeping my eyes only on Clue. “Thank you for coming so fast.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever been thanked for that.” He frowned. “Not that it’s a frequent occurrence.”
I wasn’t amused. “I appreciate the timely arrival.”
“You didn’t give me a choice. Practically turned my lights on to get to you. Scared the hell out of me.”
“I’m sorry. You didn’t have to…” I swallowed. “You know.”
“You said something was wrong. I wasn’t risking anything happening to you or the baby.”
“Why do you have to be such a nice guy?”
“I’m not a nice guy.”
“You’re driving me and my baby to the doctor, skipping out of work to do it, and you don’t even want a reward.”
“Never said that.”
“You’ll get your donut.”
“I’d take offense to that, but…”
“But?”
“I joined the force because they promised donuts. Comes with the badge. You get your choice of Taser or pepper spray, glazed or sprinkles.”
“Well, I’ll get you a dozen for this.”
“No need, Evie. I’m happy to help.”
I pretended not to hear the warmth in his words. “You didn’t become a detective to help baby-sit.”
“I did it so I could help people. You and Clue are just…”
“People?”
“Perks.”
It was a good compliment which made it so terrible to accept. “You do your job well.”
“Most of the time. I still have your mystery to solve.”
“Any revelations since the last time we…spoke?”
“It’s gonna come down to what you remember, Evie.”
“And if I don’t remember anything?” I stared at him—his strong arms, firm grip on the wheel, jaw clenched as he slowed for traffic. “What happens then?”
“To the case?”
To anything. To me. To Clue.
To him.
“Yeah. To the case.”
He pulled off the main street and circled into a parking garage. “It’s not what you’ll remember…but when.”
He parked the car, but neither of us spoke.
It was probably a blessing. I was wasting time with foolish questions that had no answers. Nothing was going to flash inspiration into my head. When the truck hit me, he left a carton of vanilla ice cream where my memories should have been. Now I had to wait for it to melt.
And then mop up the sticky, terrible messes it left.
A few families waited at the pediatrician’s office even this early in the morning.
On the left, a mother shooed her toddler from her paisley dress, content to check her iPad while the little boy shoved the office’s Legos and building blocks into his mouth.
A second mother sat to the right. She managed a five-year-old girl, three-year-old boy, and tumbling toddler boy with a sigh, snap of her fingers, and piece of gum bribe.
Shepard touched my arm. “I’m going to call the station. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
I nodded and took a seat next to the paisley mom and her toddler. She lowered her iPad and snuck a peek at Clue.
“She’s precious,” she said. “Your first?”
“As far as I know.”
“Savor this time. It goes so fast.”
I had nothing to compare it to, so I simply nodded. Her son performed a summersault and gnawed on another block. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Her first cold?” she asked.
“Yeah. Last night was…” At least I could answer with full honesty. “Probably the worst of my life.”
“The first time is always hard. It gets easier.” She knocked the block out of her son’s hand, but she failed to reign him in before he started nibbling on the office’s fern in the corner. “Tell you what I do. Just take a little Vick’s Rub and dab it over her chest. Not a lot, but it’ll help to open her up. Put it on the feet inside her onesie too. It’ll help her breathe.”
“Oh.” I made a mental note. “Thanks. I can grab some on the way home.”
“You do all you can for them.” Her smile faded as she yanked her child away from the plant. She tugged him onto her lap and pulled a leaf out of his mouth. “And here we are, getting a quarter out of your belly. At least you had some roughage.”
Clue gave a quiet whine. I excused myself with her diaper bag. One quick change later, and I had a drier, yet still miserable, baby in my arms. Poor thing hadn’t eaten yet. I figured she’d want some breakfast, but my chair was taken by Paisley and her toddler. The mother emptied her purse, counting the change with an exasperated sigh.
“Another nickel, Aiden? You’re eating your entire college fund!”
The chair in the opposite corner was free and without hungry toddlers. I covered Clue and gave her the go ahead to eat. She fussed instead.
I couldn’t blame her.
“Poor thing.” The second mother wrangled her kids with a sharp clap and collapsed next to me. Her three-year-old clung to her leg, the five-year-old read aloud from an upside-down Reader’s Digest, and her toddler emerged from the bathroom with a trail of toilet paper. “You know, when my little ones were sick, they didn’t always want to eat. I gave them a bottle with some water, and that got us through a
lot of nights. Gotta keep them hydrated.”
That made sense. “I think she’s congested. Hard to eat that way.”
“That happens. You should use those little nose suckers to help clear her up.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “I was going to dab her with Vicks when we go home.”
“What?” Wrangler mom grabbed her toddler before he wrapped the entire waiting room in toilet paper. “You can’t use Vicks. That’s bad for baby.”
“It…it is?”
“Yes! It can irritate her airway. They might swell up, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe at all!”
Oh, dear sweet Jesus. “I…I didn’t know that.”
“Don’t use Vicks.”
“Wow.” I glanced across the room. “We should tell her. She doesn’t know.”
“Know what?” Paisley mom let her kid escape from the chair. She zipped her purse tight before he went for the coins. “What’s wrong?”
“Vicks.” I said. “It’s bad for babies.”
She scoffed. “No, it’s not. It’s perfectly safe.”
Wrangler mom shook her head. “It’s an irritant. It closes airways.”
“It’s menthol. It opens airways.”
“Not for little children. It’s dangerous.”
Paisley rolled her eyes. “I used it on my son. He’s fine.”
He looked okay for a walking piggy bank. I shrugged.
Wrangler gave another huff and reached for a magazine. “If you want to risk your child’s health, go right ahead.”
“Excuse me?”
Uh-oh. This was going nowhere good.
Paisley Mom crossed her arms. “My children are fine. So are my brother and sister’s kids, if you must know. We all use Vicks, and everyone has come out of the sniffles no worse for the wear.”
“Okay.” Wrangler faked a pleasant smile. “I’d rather be safe than lucky, but that’s between you and your husband.”
“And what would you recommend for a congested baby? Saline?”
“When my children were babies?” She waved over the gaggle of kids. “They had saline. They had nose suckers. And I made sure they stayed hydrated.”
“Hydrated?” Paisley grimaced. “With what?”
Wrangler huffed. “Water. What are you hydrating your kids with? More chemicals?”
“You gave them water?”
“In a bottle.”
“You can’t give them water!”
Well, fuck me. Now I had no freaking idea what to do for my baby.
