Mission Creek Mother-To-Be

By the time she got back to the day-care center, the lights were dimmed and most of the children were sleeping on mats on the floor. Em hurried over to Melanie and Dan and said in a hushed voice, “It’s nap time. Every day after lunch.” She gave Melanie a sympathetic smile. “Speaking of which, you must be starving. Why don’t you give Dan to me and I’ll rock him to sleep while you go grab a bite.”

The last thing Melanie was concerned with right now was food. “May I rock him myself?” she asked, reluctant to give up the warm little boy who seemed to like being in her arms as much as she liked having him there. “Please?”

Em raised her eyebrows and gestured toward the chair. “Be my guest. If you’re sure.”

Melanie gave the boy a squeeze and said, “I’m sure.” She carried him over to the chair and sat down, settling his head in the crook of her arm. He wriggled impatiently at first, but she shushed him and quietly began singing lullabies. Within five minutes he was asleep.

And she was more positive than ever that she wanted a child of her own. No matter what it took.

Unfortunately, it looked like it would take a lot.

Jared sat by himself in the doctors lounge and ate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d brought. This particular lunch was a habit he’d had for a long time.

He took a sip of the milk he’d picked up in the cafeteria and looked at the small color TV that someone had left on in the corner.

There was some kind of news conference going on outside the Stop n’ Save. A painfully thin, pale woman was talking. There were several microphones in front of her, and she was looking into the camera. Her face might have been called pixie-ish if it didn’t look so hard. The caption under her read, Deena Hines, Wife of Escaped Convict Branson Hines.

“Branson,” she said, her voice as thin and reedy as her body. “Please, please, come home, darlin’. I’m worried about you because I don’t know where you are or how you’re doin’. Please get in touch with me—” she looked slyly left and right “—or with the police.” Jared thought he saw the smallest smirk curl the left side of her mouth. “Please, darlin’, I want you back home. It’ll be better for you if you turn yourself in, rather than letting them find you, because they are looking.” At this, she broke down into strangely tearless sobs, and covered her face with her bony hands.