"Can I leave the baby with you?" she asked. "You're so good with children."

"How will we explain a new baby to our friends and neighbors?"

"I'm only sixteen. sixteen." Panic rose inside her.

"Plenty of sixteen-year-old girls have babies."

CeeCee looked down at the infant in her arms. The baby's face was peaceful as she sucked, vacant eyes a dark blue-gray, blinking open and closed. How had her own mother felt, holding her, feeding her for the first time? Had she ever considered getting rid of her?

"My mother had me at sixteen," CeeCee admitted.

"Well," Naomi said, "there you go."

Chapter Fifteen.

Promise me you'll hold on to these letters. I know you might not appreciate them when you're young. Maybe you even think they're silly. But when you get older, I think you'll be very glad to have a little piece of me. At least, I hope you will.

There was something seductive about sleeping with a baby.

At first, CeeCee thought it was a terrible idea. "I could roll over and crush her," she said when Naomi suggested it. "I could suffocate her."

"You won't," Naomi said. "It'll be good for both of you."

By the second night, CeeCee wondered if sleeping with the baby was Naomi's plot to create a bond between her and the infant. If so, it was working. She wasn't getting much sleep; the baby was hungry more often than not and going through an unbelievable number of Emmanuel's altered diapers. But as she cuddled the infant while she fed her, brushing her lips over the downy red hair, as she held her floppy little head while she burped her, she felt intoxicated by the soft, delicious baby smell that filled the air around her.

Dahlia was thrilled to find that CeeCee was back, and even more excited that she'd brought a baby with her.

"What's her name?" Dahlia leaned on the arm of the rocker as CeeCee fed the baby.

"Um..." CeeCee looked at Naomi, who was sitting on the floor with Emmanuel in her lap, trying to get him interested in a ring of large, plastic keys.

"Sweet Pea," Naomi said.

Dahlia laughed. "That's a silly name."

"Not really," Naomi said. "A sweet pea is a flower, just like a Dahlia is a flower."

"It is? Which is prettier?"

"Totally different," Naomi said. "A Dahlia is big and round and explosive, like fireworks. And a sweet pea is delicate and ruffly."

"Wow." Dahlia giggled. She gently touched the baby's back, then looked at CeeCee. "Was she in your tummy?" she asked.

CeeCee looked helplessly at Naomi again.

"Yes, she was," Naomi said.

Dahlia rested her head on CeeCee's shoulder so she could get a better look at the baby.

"Now you've got your very own wetting doll," she said.

She had no idea what was happening between Tim and Marty and the governor. Naomi and Forrest had no television, just a small transistor radio that received a Christian music station and that was it. Not one of their vehicles had a working radio.

She pleaded with Naomi to let her talk to Tim on the phone. Was he still in Jacksonville? Had he already gone underground?

"It's too dangerous to call him from our phone," Naomi said as she loaded diapers into the old avocado-colored washing machine in the kitchen. "I only called him that one time because I had no choice."

CeeCee pulled a towel out of the dryer, folded it and set it in the laundry basket. "Give me the number and I can drive to a pay phone somewhere," she suggested.

"You can't leave the house," Naomi reminded her. She set the dial on the washing machine and it chugged to life. "Get over him, CeeCee," she said. "Let him go. He has enough to deal with, and even though you may not know it yet, so do you."

"I know it." CeeCee sobered.

"Then act like it." Naomi grabbed a bunch of diapers from the dryer and began folding them. "Focus on your future, not your past."

"What future?" CeeCee said. "I don't feel like I have one. Where am I going to go? To live?" future?" CeeCee said. "I don't feel like I have one. Where am I going to go? To live?"

"Now you sound like a real sixteen-year-old drama queen," Naomi said. "We're working on your future, so relax."

"What does that mean?"

"There are a couple of options and we're figuring out which is best." Naomi added a folded diaper to the stack on the dryer. "I'm not going to tell you about them 'til I've got one firmed up for you."

"What do you mean by options?"

"Places to live. A new life for you. A future. future. Don't worry. You'll have one." Don't worry. You'll have one."

Fighting with Naomi was fruitless. It was almost impossible to get her to bend, so she continued folding the laundry in silence.

Once before, she'd had this feeling of entering a new phase in her life with no choice in the matter. It was a time filled with loss, with a future that stretched ahead of her like unknown territory. It had taken her years after her mother's death to recapture her sense of well-being and optimism-the optimism Tim had so admired. It was slipping away again, flowing through her hands like water when she tried to grasp it. Her simple life-working at the restaurant with Ronnie, being with Tim, her dream of college nearly a reality-was once again being replaced by something frightening and unknown. The only difference was that her mother's death had been thrust on her. This she had done to herself.

On Thanksgiving, three days after her arrival at Naomi and Forrest's, CeeCee fell in love with the baby. She knew the exact moment her feelings shifted from "like" to "love." Naomi, Forrest and their children were at a friend's house all afternoon and evening, and she was alone with the infant for the first time since her arrival. She lay on the bed with her, having just fed her, and she studied her face, scrutinizing her features for hints of Genevieve. She stroked her finger over the little arm and wrist, and the baby suddenly circled CeeCee's finger with her tiny, perfect hand. Her blue-gray eyes looked into CeeCee's as though she could truly see her and they held her gaze. Held it for a minute. Two minutes. Maybe longer. Long enough for CeeCee's heart to crack in two.

"Oh, Sweet Pea," she whispered, lowering her head to kiss the tiny hand wrapped around her finger. Were maternal feelings so innate that a sixteen-year-old who had never even been pregnant could feel them?

Both of them were motherless. Motherless, alone, just trying to survive.

But unlike CeeCee, the baby wasn't fatherless.

In between nighttime feedings, when CeeCee was both too tired and too troubled to sleep, she tried to come up with ways to get the baby to the governor, something she didn't dare discuss with Naomi or Forrest. She had a vague idea where the governor's mansion was in the heart of Raleigh. She'd once been there on a school trip. She could go in the dead of night, leave the baby on the doorstep, ring the bell and leave. Or maybe not ring the bell, because it would take her a while to get back to the car. It was too cold, though, to leave the baby outside for someone to find in the morning. Maybe she could figure out a way to call the mansion to tell them to look on the front step. Her mind reeled with ideas. She might not know until she saw the mansion what would work and what wouldn't, but one way or another, she was getting this baby to her father.

Then she would think about Tim and Marty and Andie. If she left the baby at the mansion, how would that affect what they were doing? Maybe Andie was free by now. But if Tim was still in the middle of negotiations with the governor, perhaps close to a resolution, would she be creating more problems than she was solving?

Sat.u.r.day morning, while both babies napped and Naomi gave Dahlia a reading lesson in the living room, CeeCee spoke to Forrest over the dirty breakfast dishes at the kitchen table.

"I'm supposed to come home tomorrow from my trip to Philadelphia," she said. "I have to let my roommate know I'm not coming back."

Forrest looked at her over the rim of his coffee mug. "You can't use our phone," he said.

"If I don't let her know, though, she'll call the police. She'll report me as a missing person and they'll be looking for me."

Forrest tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling, considering her argument. "All right," he said finally. "I'll drive you to a pay phone tonight in New Bern. You can call her from there. But you'd better think through what you're going to tell her. Be very careful."

The drive to New Bern took a little more than a half hour, and as they drove over the extremely long, two-lane trestle bridge-a truly frightening experience in the dark-the lights of the small town came into view on the other side of the river. CeeCee ached with the realization that help for Genevieve had not been that far away. She must have looked upset, because Forrest suddenly asked her, "What are you thinking?"

"How close help was for the baby's mother, and I didn't know it. And I didn't believe her when she said she was in labor. And I wouldn't have known how to get here. And-"

"What's done is done." Forrest turned into a gas station, pulling up close to the phone booth, and handed her a fistful of change. "Don't be long," he said.

She got out of the car and closed herself inside the phone booth, which smelled like urine, and it took her a moment to remember her own phone number. It seemed like months since she'd left Chapel Hill.

"h.e.l.lo?" Ronnie picked up on the second ring. Thank G.o.d she was home.

"Ronnie, it's CeeCee," she said.

"Oh, my G.o.d, CeeCee! I've been dying to talk to you. Isn't this absolutely unbelievable?"

She was caught off guard. "Isn't what unbelievable?" She was afraid she knew the answer.

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"You must not be watching the news. It's-G.o.d, you are going to freak out."

"What?"

"It's about Tim. He kidnapped kidnapped Governor Russell's wife." Governor Russell's wife."

"What? You've got to be kidding." You've got to be kidding."

"You are so lucky he broke up with you," Ronnie said.

"Oh, my G.o.d, that's...why? I can't believe he'd do something like that. Are you sure you're talking about Tim Gleason?"

"And his brother Marty. You said Marty was crazy. I think Tim is, too. They have a sister who's in jail for murder. Did you know about her? They kidnapped Russell's wife to get him to set their sister free. Isn't that insane? insane?"

It was was insane. Why hadn't she realized that before it was too late? insane. Why hadn't she realized that before it was too late?

"So..." CeeCee said. "What happened? Did the governor set her free or what?"

"The last I heard on the news this morning was that he wasn't giving in to them and that a search was on for them and his wife. And CeeCee! A cop came to the restaurant this morning asking to talk to you. Somehow they found out you'd been his girlfriend. I told them you'd broken up with him and you were in Philadelphia visiting a friend. They want to talk to you. They'll call when you get back."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she leaned against the gla.s.s of the phone booth, her head spinning. They were looking for her, as Naomi had predicted. It was happening already. "Listen, Ronnie, I'm calling to tell you I've decided to stay in Philadelphia."

Ronnie hesitated. "Because of this?" she asked.

"No, no. I decided a couple of days ago. I really like it here and I-"

"You're staying...you mean like permanently?"

"Well, I don't know if it's for the rest of my life, but my friend found me a job here at a really good restaurant and...I needed to get away from the memories of Tim and everything."

Ronnie said nothing, and CeeCee wondered if she believed her.

"I can't afford the room on my own, CeeCee," she said finally.

CeeCee had not even thought of that. "I know, and I'm going to send you money from my first few paychecks until you can find someone to take my place." She winced at the lie. She hated leaving Ronnie in the lurch. She would would send her money if she ever got any. Her bank account had five thousand dollars in it, but she would have to kiss that money goodbye if the cops were looking for her. If only she could simply hand it over to Ronnie. send her money if she ever got any. Her bank account had five thousand dollars in it, but she would have to kiss that money goodbye if the cops were looking for her. If only she could simply hand it over to Ronnie.

Ronnie was thinking the same thing. "You've got that money in the bank," she said. "Couldn't you at least send me enough for next month's rent?"

"Oh, right!" CeeCee said as if she'd forgotten. "Of course. The money's in a savings account so I don't have checks or anything, but as soon as I get an account there...I mean here, in Philadelphia, I'll send you some. And you can just keep all my stuff," she added.

Ronnie hesitated again. "You're not even coming back to get your clothes and things?" she asked.

G.o.d, this had to sound suspicious! She hoped the police didn't question Ronnie again.

"I just...I'm going to start fresh here. I'd have to take the bus and everything, and lug my stuff back and it would just be a ha.s.sle."

"What about your mother's letters?"

It was CeeCee's turn to fall silent. The letters. The letters. She didn't care about her clothes or her records or her two beaded necklaces. But the letters! Her heart felt empty at the thought of leaving them behind. She didn't care about her clothes or her records or her two beaded necklaces. But the letters! Her heart felt empty at the thought of leaving them behind.

"I don't have my friend's address right now, but I'll send it to you and then you could mail the letters to me, okay?"

"Okay. What's your friend's name?"

She'd been prepared for that question. "Susan," she lied.

"How come I never heard of her?"