“No,” Mrs. Jergens said. “Would you like to pack his things or should I just go get him out of his crib right now?”

“Don’t do that,” she begged. “He’ll be cross if you wake him. Connie will be shattered if you just take him without—”

“Then get him,” she said, giving her cane a stamp on the floor for emphasis.

Sierra jumped. “I’ll get some of his things ready,” she said weakly.

“I’ll help,” Jeanne said, standing to follow Sierra.

When they got to the baby’s room, Sierra turned on the social worker. “My God, you have to know how terrifying this looks! Mrs. Jergens isn’t capable of taking care of a heavy, rambunctious little boy! And this cousin? We don’t know anything about this cousin!”

“I’m going to try to keep an eye on things, but remember, she’s not under the scrutiny of child welfare. She hasn’t done anything wrong and she’s his closest living relative.”

“She hasn’t done anything yet,” Sierra said. “She’s mean! And careless!”

“I’m afraid I’m without options, Mrs. Boyle. She can refuse to complete the adoption process at any time. But I will check on her. On them.”

“This can’t be happening,” Sierra said. “We love him so much. He’s so happy with us.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s put a few things in the duffel for him. Let’s at least make sure he has what he needs.”

Tears rolled down Sierra’s cheeks. “I can’t,” she squeaked.

“Yes, come on. Here we go,” Jeanne said. She opened the duffel on the changing table and filled it with disposable diapers, wipes, onesies, pajamas. She went to the bureau and opened a drawer to reveal a full complement of little outfits. “Can you tell me which ones came from his grandmother? So we can give them back?”

Sierra felt as though she was wading through quicksand as she took the few steps to the bureau. She picked through the stacks and pulled out a few small items. “He’s grown since he came to us. I don’t think these will even fit him anymore.”

“Can you please part with some clothes that will fit? Shoes? Not for her—for him.”

Some fussing and squirming sounds came from the crib. “This can’t be happening,” Sierra said, lifting Sam into her arms and snuggling him close. “Oh God.”

Sam protested being hugged so tightly and he started to cry.

“Let’s get his things together,” Jeanne said. “How about some formula and baby food? Just enough to get them through a couple of days?”

“I need to change him,” she said, her heart ripped to shreds. “He’s going to be hungry. Please, can I change and feed him? Please?”

The sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard.

“What’s going on here? Sierra! Sierra!” Connie burst into the baby’s room and enfolded Sierra and Sam in his big arms. “What the hell?”

“The adoption isn’t final,” Sierra said, choking on the words. They’re taking him away!”

“Maybe not,” Connie said. “Cal is on his way. He’s calling Mrs. Jergens’s lawyer.”

“Connie, please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t let her take him. Go talk to her, please. Please. She hates me.”

“Did he just wake up?” Connie asked. Sierra nodded against his broad chest. “He’s soaked,” Connie said. “Go ahead and change him. I’ll talk to Mrs. Jergens.”

By the time Connie was back in the living room, Sierra heard her brother’s voice, as well, both of them pleading rational arguments, trying to change her mind, dissuade her from taking the little boy.

“Sierra, do I have to take the baby?” Jeanne asked. “Shall I change him and make him a bottle? Are you too upset to—”

“I’ll do it,” Sierra said. She carried on, changing him, finding some outfits that would fit him and dressing him in one, putting his bitty shoes on his feet, crying the whole time. Her emotions had Sam fretting, whimpering and wiggling around, making it all the harder.

She carried him to the kitchen to find a bottle. Jeanne had followed her, raiding the baby supplies in the kitchen and adding some to her duffel.

“Can we have the rest of this formula?” Jeanne asked. “Cereal and jars of fruit? You don’t seem to have much...”

“Sam eats food I make,” Sierra said. “I just have these jars for those days I don’t have time to make his food for him. He likes mashed bananas and oatmeal. He likes to pick Cheerios off his tray. I cook his vegetables and smash them with a fork. He loves potatoes, loves smashed sweet potatoes. I make applesauce,” she said, ending with a sob.

A short distance away Connie and Cal continued to argue with Mrs. Jergens, pleading with her to give the Boyles a few days to prepare, asking Mrs. Jergens why she hadn’t contacted her lawyer to tell him she was backing out of the adoption. Sierra gave Sam his bottle while they argued. And then Mrs. Jergens had had enough.

“Do I have to call the police to get my grandson turned over to me?”

The room went suddenly still. Quiet.

“Don’t get crazy,” Cal said. “Is there nothing we can do to make you reconsider? This young family is heartbroken, as you can see.”

“As heartbroken as I was to learn my daughter was dead? I have to do this. I can’t give up my grandson.”

“Will you at least call your lawyer?” Cal asked.

“I’ll call him,” she said. “Not in front of all of you.”

“Okay,” Cal said. “Let’s not make things harder. I want you to hear me on this, Mrs. Jergens. The Boyles are very bonded with your grandson. They want nothing so much as to give him a strong, loving family and to watch him thrive. If you get him home and have a moment of doubt, please don’t hesitate to call on any of us. We’d all be happy to step in and help. We’ve all grown to love the boy.”

Connie went to Sierra. She sat on a kitchen chair in the corner of the room, as far away from them as she could get. “Come on, baby,” he said gently. “Let me have Sam.”

She held him against her shoulder. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, Connie, no.”

“Baby, we don’t have a choice,” he said, gently pulling the little boy into his arms.

“No,” Sierra cried. “Oh God.”

Connie carried the baby to Mrs. Jergens, kissed him on the head and handed him over.

Mrs. Jergens struggled to hold him in one arm and hang on to her cane with the other. For a tense moment it looked like she might drop him, but she managed to get out the door. Jeanne Blasette scrambled along behind, opening the back door of the car for her and helping her get the baby situated. They could hear Sam crying as they took him away, Mrs. Jergens driving her car. When the sound of the car engine could no longer be heard, the house was silent but for the sobbing of Sierra.

Connie went to her and pulled her into his arms.

“Thanks for trying, Cal,” he said.

“I’m not giving up,” Cal said. “I’ve left messages with her lawyer. Maybe he can talk some sense into her.”

“Thanks. We’ll take any help we can get.” He dropped back onto the couch, holding Sierra on his lap. “I’ll stay home the rest of the shift. I just have to call my captain and tell him. He’ll understand.”

“What can I do for you right now?” Cal asked. “Can I get some food together? I can call Maggie and ask her for a tranquilizer or something.”

Connie was stroking Sierra’s hair, rocking her. “Nah, Sierra’s pregnant. She won’t take anything now. I’ll take care of her.”

“Pregnant?” Cal said in a whisper.

“An accident, but we’re happy about it,” Connie said. “Okay, we’re not happy about anything right now. It’s safe for you to leave. I can take care of my wife.”

“I’ll keep at it, Connie.”

“Great. Just don’t tell us anything that will get our hopes up only to have him torn away from us again.” He kissed Sierra’s head. “We love him. We want him to be okay.”

“Me, too,” Cal said.

* * *

Sierra cried for hours. In early evening at the urging of Connie she agreed to eat a little canned chicken soup and drink some water for the baby’s sake. “You can’t get dehydrated, it could hurt the baby.”

“I can’t stop crying,” she said.

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’m here. Let’s take care of you and the baby. We don’t need any more heartache.” He spooned the soup into her as if she were the baby.

“I’ve gotten a bunch of texts,” he said. “No one wants to get in our space and bother us, they don’t want to call and wake anyone if they might be sleeping, but there are offers of food, company, prayers, anything. Cal told the family—Maggie, Dakota and Sully. My captain told some of the guys. Lisa and Rafe want to offer comfort when you’re up to it. They’re waiting to be told the coast is clear.”

“Do you want company?” she asked. “Because I don’t.”

“I don’t need company,” he said. “I need to take care of what’s left of my family.”

After a few hours and a little food and water, Sierra fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep. She woke in the dark of night and the clock by the bed said it was 2:00 a.m. She heard some fussing and for a split second she thought the baby was back, fussing in his crib. She sat up with a start.

A dim light from the living room illuminated the crack in the bedroom door. She pulled herself out of bed and went toward the sound. She found Connie sitting bent over on the living room chair, his head pushed into a soft toy, muffling his cries. He sat, alone, sobbing his heart out.

She went to him, kneeling at his feet, rubbing a small hand over his back.