She trailed her nicotine stained fingers across the baby’s cheek, praying that he slept on. She took his favorite checkered blanket from the hamper of clean laundry, gently draping it over his tense little shoulders. She wondered how Ella had found her, how she’d tracked her down after so many years of silence to this ramshackle house one the edge of nowhere.

She’d shown up just about dawn a few days ago, the somber infant in tow. She’d come up the steps just like she owned the place, even though May’d been standing right there on the porch. “Who in Hell are you?” May’d shouted at her, pushing the brim of her straw hat back so she could see in the early morning light.

“It’s me, May. It’s Ella.” Her voice had been soft, sweet and warm as maple syrup fresh outta Vermont. “I got a problem.” She’d invited Ella in, offered her some coffee. “No, no, May, I gotta go.” Though they were both in their forties, they couldn’t be more different. This wasn’t college anymore.

“I need you to take him.” she began.