Page 15 of Summer Longing
Chapter Seven
It had rained overnight, storms that left the windows of Shell Haven beaded with water even as the sun came up. Elise had hoped the rain would last all day, that a storm would rage with such ferocity, she would have an excuse to shelter in place and not take the baby to the police station.
No such luck.
“I can trust you to handle this, right?” Fern whispered, pulling her Tea by the Sea tote over her shoulder. She glanced at the car seat on the kitchen table, the baby asleep inside but starting to stir. “I have to get to the shop.”
Elise nodded as she poured a mug full of hot water so she could warm the bottle. She wanted to get the baby outside before she awoke hungry and started crying. Upstairs, Ruth Cooperman was still asleep. Elise had heard her stumble in late. She’d knocked over something in the living room, and Elise could only assume she’d been drinking.
Their tenant had no idea they’d spent the night, and it was probably best to keep it that way.
Fern kissed her on the cheek. “Be strong,” she said.
Be strong.Wasn’t she always? Elise was tired of being strong. Of taking no for an answer from the universe.
Except this time, it wasn’t the universe saying no. This time, the universe had dropped a gift right in her lap. It was her partner saying no.
Elise had hardly slept all night. She and Fern had gone around and around in circles, Elise making the case for keeping the baby, at least for a little while, Fern remaining adamant that they go to the authorities.
“It’s been hours. The mother is not coming back,” Fern had said. “You gave her a window, and that window is closing tomorrow. We have no right to keep this baby, Elise. And you’re too emotional to think clearly about it.”
Fern was right about one thing—Elise was emotional. She believed the baby had been given to her for a reason. Fate, divine providence, whatever you wanted to call it—the fact was that it could not be a coincidence that she had been praying for a baby for three years and one had literally arrived on her doorstep.
As for thinking clearly, Elise didn’t know why everything had to be figured out right away. What was the rush?
“I need you at the shop,” Fern said. “We have a business to get off the ground this summer. Keep your eye on the ball, Elise. We have to do the right thing. The baby belongs with the authorities. Let officials take care of this through the proper channels.”
Proper channels. Like this was just another business transaction. She’d broken away from the conversation to feed the baby sometime around ten, and when she returned to the guest bedroom, she’d found Fern snoring softly.
How could she sleep at a time like this? Elise crept down the hall to the spare room they used as an office. She sat in an Aeron chair and held the mystery baby, looking at her tuft of dark hair and her eyes like gray marbles. The baby fussed after her bottle, even after being burped and changed and swaddled. It seemed Elise might never get her back to sleep. She didn’t care; she paced the floor for over an hour, holding the baby against her chest, close to her heart.
She stayed awake long after the baby had finally drifted off to sleep.
Commercial Street was packed with delivery trucks, and the sidewalks were full of early-morning joggers. Bicyclists weaved in and out of traffic. No one paid much attention to Elise, a woman walking alone with an infant in a sling. She would have attracted more interest if she’d had a cute French bulldog on a leash instead.
The baby stirred, turning her face from side to side. She made a peep, a primitive sound that prompted Elise to wrap her arms around her little body, even though she was secure in the sling. She felt every cell in her body was becoming attuned to the baby. And as she reached the center of town, halfway to the police station, her stomach churned.
How could she hand this child over to strangers who would put her into some kind of statewide foster-care system? Fern had said Elise wasn’t thinking straight, that she was being emotional. But this seemed very clear to her, absolutely black-and-white.
Up ahead, the front porch of the Beach Rose Inn came into view.
Elise gravitated toward it. The voice in her head telling her not to go to the police station was also telling her she needed to talk to someone. Elise might not be objective about this, but neither was Fern.
She knew someone who might be.
She climbed the porch steps, walked inside, closed the front door carefully behind her, and patted the head of Molly the dog, hoping she wouldn’t bark.
Rachel Duncan was setting up coffee service.
“Hey there,” Rachel said. “Is that a baby?”
“Hi—yeah. I’m babysitting.”
“Cool. For anyone I know?”
“Just a friend,” Elise said, the words solidifying the tenuous strategy she’d been devising the entire sleepless night. “Is your grandmother around?”
“In the kitchen, as always. Go on back.”
