Karen Smith - A Match Made by Baby

“So she has to find day care she can trust.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know if she has a best friend, if she’s friends with anyone at work?”

“When she graduated and got this job, she mentioned it was a small law firm and everyone else was older. I think she lost contact with most of her high school friends. Many of them went on to four-year colleges.”

“Has she lived here since her mother died?”

“She and Jade shared an apartment. My dad subsidized it until Tina got a job, then she insisted she wanted to be on her own. She wouldn’t take my help, either. She’s a responsible young adult, Kaitlyn. That’s why none of this makes any sense.”

Kaitlyn gently touched his arm. He felt that touch in every fiber of his being.

“It does make sense,” she explained. “In a world of hormones and after-pregnancy feelings. But she has to want help for you to be able to give it.”

“Or for The Mommy Club to give it,” he muttered. “Can you watch Erica for a few minutes while I search through Tina’s desk in her bedroom? Maybe I can find a clue as to where she’s gone.”

“Sure, I can. Or if you need help, I can just bring her in.”

“I’ve got this,” he said with that determined note Kaitlyn recognized. He didn’t want to need anyone else.

She wandered about Tina’s apartment, very different from Adam’s. There were lots of pictures standing about, mostly of Tina and of a woman who Kaitlyn guessed was her mom. There were also photos of Tina and a younger Adam, photos of Tina and Adam with a man whom Kaitlyn assumed might be his father and Tina’s stepfather.

There was already a photo of a newborn Erica propped beside the TV. Some hospitals provided those photos, but Tina had gone to the trouble of framing it and setting it in a prominent place. Not something an uncaring mom would do.

When Erica began fussing a little, Kaitlyn scooped her from the pink leopard lining of the car seat and carried her into the kitchen. She couldn’t resist holding a baby. Doing it was always bittersweet. Yet she looked forward to the day when she might have her own child in her arms.

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