Page 6 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

Colleen said they had until she and Noah flew back to New Orleans in the morning. But if they did not want to parent this little girl, she was racing a clock to find someone who would.

If they raised this child, she said, she would live among Sullivans, where Catherine could, maybe one day, see her again. The child may not be Colin’s, but were the Deschanels and Sullivans not also family, where it mattered?

“If we do this…” Carolina paused, overcome by emotion.

“We should talk, Car,” Rory said. “We can’t just commit to something like this.”

Carolina ignored him. “If we do this, we need a guarantee Catherine won’t change her mind later.”

Colleen looked at Rory. “You can draw up paperwork that assures this, yes? You know what to put in it? To protect yourselves?”

He sucked in his lower lip, followed by a single nod.

“What role would Catherine expect in her daughter’s life, exactly?” Carolina asked.

“Your daughter’s life,” Colleen corrected. She didn’t dare look at Noah. This had worked. She felt it, even if the agreement was still in the future. “She would be Aunt Cat, just as she is to Clancy. Nothing more, or less.”

“Catherine seems to believe fixing her marriage is in her best interest,” Noah added. He’d said little, respecting that this was Colleen’s show, not his. She loved him for that, and for knowing when to jump in and support her. “For her, and her son. Bringing home a love child wouldn’t make that very easy, I’m sure.” He chuckled, but it came out like a cough. “The alternative is her little one ends up with a stranger.”

“As a mother now myself,” Colleen said, struggling through the words as her imagination allowed her to stand in Catherine’s shoes, “I can’t imagine the pain of seeing a child of mine with a stranger, not when there was a better way.”

“That’s what most people do when they have an unwanted baby,” Rory said.

“But this baby isn’t unwanted,” Colleen pressed gently. “Is she?”

Carolina dropped her eyes to her lap. Tears dotted her cheeks. Rory squeezed her hand and sighed.

“No,” he said, eyes fixed on his wife, who had endured so much to bring a child into their life. “I suppose not.”

“A child needs a maternal influence,” Irish Colleen said. She’d tried three times to take Anasofiya into her arms and failed each when Augustus dodged her attempts.

“A child needs her parents, and my daughter, unfortunately, has only one.”

“Augustus.” Irish Colleen tugged at her apron as if searching for her famous patience. “There is no shame in a nanny. None.”

Augustus bounced Anasofiya on his shoulder. Come on. Burp already. Please, Ana. Don’t make yourself sick. “You never used one.”

Irish Colleen’s hands flew to her hips. So much for patience. “I never used one, because my children had both a mother and a father! Son, you’re a wonderful man, and a great father. But how can you, the most honorable man I know, not understand how your little girl needs a woman in her life?”

“She has you,” Augustus said. He turned away as he patted Ana’s back in growing anxiousness. If she didn’t burp… no, don’t think it. “Lizzy. Maureen. Colleen.”

“You won’t even let me hold her.”

“You can hold her when I leave.”

“It’s nearly ten, Augustus. Just when did you plan on leaving?”

Ana made a light gurgling noise as she expelled the excess of her breakfast. His heart rate slowed. They’d made it through another morning. Safe. Sound.

“Here,” he said, handing his daughter to his mother with great reluctance. “See? You’re holding her.” He shoved his shaking hands in his pajama pants. Pajamas. He wasn’t even dressed. Maybe he should stay home today, since it was already so late.

“You can hardly stand to see me do it.”

“You’re my mother,” Augustus said, but this was no answer.

“I am your mother,” she said, taking Anasofiya so naturally into her arms that Augustus felt a pang of failure at his own awkwardness. “And as your mother, I’m going to tell you something that will be hard for both of us.”

Augustus stared at her.

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