“No one knows..? Where.. but where..?” I stammer.

“The baby is at the hospital. Li signed all the papers with Yvonne before she left. The baby is yours, but the hospital social worker and Yvonne have been calling all day and you didn’t answer. Why haven’t you answered?”

“It didn’t ring!”

“Well, we’ve got to call them right now. And get over there. We’ll drive you.” Henry hands me my jacket. Jemma’s turning off the oven and putting the chicken back in the refrigerator.

I grab my bag and shuffle through it, looking for my cell. The phone case is bright orange, chosen for this exact reason: so I can find it in a bag full of other things, which are all bigger than the phone.

Here it is. I press the button.

Twice.

Dead.

“Never mind,” Henry says, “You can use ours. Let’s go.”

They’ve parked behind me in my spot.

“No,” I finally find my voice. “We have to take mine, it has the baby seat in it.”

“We’ll take both,” Henry says. “You come with me. Jemma can drive yours.”

At this point, for the first time in my life, I will do exactly as I am told. I hand Jem my keys and get in their car.

To get my daughter.

* * *

Have you ever seen race-walkers? It’s that sport where the athletes look like they’re just walking, but they’re actually moving at five times normal speed? That’s what we look like headed down the hospital hallway toward the maternity ward.

Unsurprisingly, Henry gets there first.

“We just had a baby,” he says urgently to the woman seated behind the reception desk. “We need to find her right away.”

The woman gives her co-worker the side-eye, the kind that says, I may need you to call security very soon. She arranges her face into an expression of calm concern.

“Can you give me a little more information?” she asks. “Are you the father? Can you tell me your name?”

“Henry Holliday. This is my wife. And this—” he pulls me forward “—is the mother.”

She looks at me nervously. “And you just gave birth, dear?”

“Yes! No!” That should clear things up. “My baby is here. I’m Chloe Browne, you called me, my phone was dead, I don’t know how that happened, I’m so sorry, but here I am! Where is she?”

Before the receptionist can answer, an office door behind her swings open and a tiny, curly-haired woman with an ID badge around her neck comes rushing out.

“Ms. Browne? I’m Kate Moss. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Conversation stops as we all stare at her. She sighs.

“Not that Kate Moss. I’m the social worker on duty. Yvonne will come back tomorrow to go over specifics. I need you to fill out some forms, and then we can go to the nursery. This is a bit of an unusual situation.”

A bit.

“Go ahead. We’ll wait right here.” Jemma gives me a quick hug.

In Kate’s office, I sink into a chair. She picks up a folder from her desk and hands me a pen.

“What about Li?” I ask her. “The birth mother. Do you know where she is?”

“I’m sorry,” Kate answers. “I know you have a personal relationship with her, but I can’t tell you anything. You could try calling the Boston police.”

Police? Why would I need to call the police? What the hell happened to Li?

“Is she alive?” I ask, hearing the hysteria in my voice, knowing I need to tone it down. They won’t hand a precious newborn off to a woman who’s falling apart in front of them.

The social worker frowns, then sighs. “All I can say is that we’re pretty sure she is.”

“Pretty sure? She wasn’t the victim of—has Li been—oh, God, she’s almost a child herself!”

“Ms. Browne,” Kate the social worker says, her eyes going kind. “The police are working on the case with the birth mother. Let’s help you focus on the baby.”

There is too much happening right now to process. I just need my baby. I need to take her home. Then I can think about everything else.

I sign the papers, I fill in the information, I produce my identifying documents. Kate makes copies.

And then.

Then we go to the nursery.

It’s climate-controlled in here. There are rows of plastic bins, each with a tiny occupant sporting a knitted cap with a pink or blue ribbon, each swaddled in a pastel-striped cotton blanket. A few are protesting, as best they know how, but it doesn’t sound very serious. White-painted rocking chairs are positioned here and there, and seated in one of them is a new mom in a bathrobe and slippers, intently nursing her newborn.

Nurses move silently between the bins, going about their routines. Kate talks to one of them briefly, showing her paperwork and nodding toward me with a smile. She catches my eye and points to one of the rocking chairs.

I sit, and a moment later the nurse appears at my side. She is holding a small bundle with a pink hat, and she leans down and places it in my arms. It’s surprisingly light.

Here she is, at last.

Oh, hello.

I’m almost afraid to look at her. Can this be happening? Can she really be mine? This was supposed to happen in the future. Months from now.

Her baby skin. Her tightly closed eyes, her impossibly small pink lips. With a shaking hand, I slide her cap off, uncovering a head of silky black hair. I didn’t know they came with long hair? I stroke it with one fingertip. Someday I will braid this little girl’s hair, tie a bow in it, pin it up with flowers for her prom. Someday in our future.

Forever starts right now.

I want to see all of her, her hands and fingers and knees and toes, but she’s wrapped so tightly, a little baby package. Tentatively, I pull on the edge of the blanket, and it loosens enough for me to find one of her perfect, miniature hands. She’s only hours old. This brand-new hand has never been held before. I’ll never let it go.

She breathes in and out, all by herself. Miraculous.

Mine. She is mine.

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

I’m her mother. She’s my daughter. Every yearning, every fear, every fight, everything that led to this moment, all worth it.

I don’t know how to change her diaper.

Panic bubbles up in my chest. What does she eat? When does she eat it? What if I have to take a shower—who will watch her? I can’t just leave her alone in her crib! What if she has to have a bath—how is that supposed to happen? Can I hire someone? Oh dear god, I am unqualified for this assignment!