All in all, it could be worse. But only just.
Bess and Nancy walked through the department store, scrolling on their phone screens through the registry. Bess tilted her head.
"I did not know..."
"There were so many supplies related to nursing. Or diapers," Nancy finished Bess's thought. "I know Hannah said to get diapers..."
"But diapers are so boring," Bess finished the idea. "And these clothes are so cute!"
The baby clothes in question were not, as a matter of fact, on the registry, but Nancy felt a strange glow of joy on seeing them. Stretchy floral headbands with matching soft mittens, and a tiny one-piece pajama set trimmed in the same fabric. Nancy gazed at it in quiet wonder. Mittens, so the infant wouldn't scratch skin or eyes with slivers of sharp fingernails. When she had been young, Nancy had thought that perhaps infants just had perpetually cold hands.
She and Bess considered a half-dozen outfits before reluctantly strolling through the more utilitarian aisle, full of creams, lotions, washes, remedies. Bess picked up a rubber duck sporting a halo and tossed it into her basket. Nancy just chuckled.
Between them, they picked out a full outfit of footed pajamas, mittens, a miniature cap, and even a coordinating pacifier clip, a pack of velvety-soft receiving blankets, a complicated toy meant to be clipped to a car seat that boasted what Nancy thought was a rather dubious unbreakable mirror along with various crinkly, rattling, or silky flaps and pulls, a small pack of diapers and another of baby wipes, and the cream Hannah had specifically written down by name, since she swore by it.
Bess cooed over the outfit as they approached a cashier. "So adorable," she sighed.
"Bet you can't wait to buy some for yourself."
Bess shrugged. "Maybe in five years," she said. "We're way too young."
Nancy smothered a laugh. "Other than gray hair, I think that's the only thing you've ever said that about."
"And what about you?" Bess replied, arching an eyebrow. Her tone was still warm and light, but her gaze was direct. "Being a mom wouldn't put a significant damper on your life?"
Nancy stroked a fluffy teddy bear that had somehow made it into the cart without her noticing. "What wouldn't," she commented, more to herself than as any retort to Bess. "I've heard employers don't usually accept 'I was trapped in an oil drum on a container ship and that's why I missed work yesterday' as an excuse."
"I think you just need a very understanding boss."
"Yeah. Possibly a pirate. Or some kind of 'work on your own schedule' setup that is in no way time-sensitive."
"That is exactly the way pirates describe their daily schedule," Bess replied, wide-eyed with mock seriousness, and they both dissolved into laughter.
Their purchases safely in the trunk of the car, they stopped in the food court, then strolled around window-shopping and sipping from paper cups of marshmallow-capped hot chocolate. Bess glanced thoughtfully at the oatmeal chocolate chip cookie which was safely wrapped in a paper bag in her purse, that she had sighed and ordered along with the hot chocolate, then shrugged.
"You mean you really haven't, even idly, imagined a little Baby Nickerson in one of those cute little outfits."
Nancy tilted her head. "Not really."
"Because that look on your face said otherwise."
"It's no indictment to say baby clothes are cute. They are. Something about being so small." Nancy shrugged. "Besides, Ned and I have never talked about it. He might not want to be home bouncing a baby on his knee while I'm chasing blackmailers."
Bess blinked. "What if he would?"
Nancy opened and closed her mouth, then took a long sip of her hot chocolate, hoping she could think of some response as she did. But nothing came.
She had believed the conversation forgotten that night—Bess had moved on, the baby shower gifts were wrapped, they wouldn't need to think about it again until the weekend—but during a lull in her conversation with Ned after dinner, she felt it bubble up, faster than she could ignore.
"Do you... want to have kids? Not, like, today," she hastened to add, realizing belatedly that he had started saying something too but fell completely silent.
"I... misheard you," he said slowly.
"You probably didn't," she admitted with a small smile, and repeated herself. "Um..."
"It was Bess. Just... we were shopping for baby shower gifts."
"An experience I'm suddenly grateful to have never experienced. Not the Bess part, the rest of it."
Nancy chuckled. "She asked if I'd ever thought about it."
"And?" Ned's voice was neutral. "I'm presuming you're not about to tell me you took a pregnancy test..."
Nancy clapped a hand to her heart. "No. Emphatically no. I...?"
"I thought it was likely a safe assumption," he replied. "So what did you tell her?"
"That you and I hadn't talked about it yet."
"Ah."
When he didn't immediately keep talking, Nancy flushed a little, but couldn't stop herself from filling the silence. "So I guess this is me... asking how you feel about it."
"It's not my body we're talking about," he replied. "At least, not after the very beginning, anyway."
Nancy released her breath in a startled chuckle. "It's not," she agreed. "But, putting that aside for a minute...?"
Ned paused again, and this time, she made herself wait. "I think you know that I want to be with you," he replied. "When I look into my future, I see you there."
"Yes," she agreed, quietly.
"I'm also aware that you are... you. So, no. I don't necessarily see you, or us, if you want to put it that way, having a child, not unless you decide that's something that you want to do."
A small knot of tension in her belly loosened. "Oh."
She could hear the trace of humor in his voice when he spoke again. "The two of us, together, would make a family," he said. "Us, our parents, our friends. The people we love, who love us. Having a child, or not, won't be the thing that binds us together or breaks us apart. Not for me, anyway."
"Oh. So we've just never talked about it..."
"Because, first of all, it isn't my decision to make," he said, his voice gentle. "But, second, because I know you. I have no doubt that, if you want to become a mother, you'll do all you can to make that work, by whatever means make the most sense. I also know that found families are families, too, and there's nothing I need to prove by having a toddler walking around carrying on my blood and my name."
"Not now," she pointed out.
"Not now," he agreed. "I'm still in college and this is hardly the best time for it. And you're..."
"Being sealed into oil barrels destined for container ships," Nancy sighed.
Ned made an incoherent sound of alarm.
"A hypothetical," she rushed to calm him down. "I mean, not that it hasn't happened, but, yeah. My life would definitely need some adjustment to make a baby-shaped hole."
"If you decide that's what you want."
Nancy smiled, warmed. "Have I told you how incredibly wonderful you are lately?"
"No," Ned said, making a quiet sound of contented pleasure as he presumably stretched. "But I would be happy to pencil you in for an appointment to do so in person, at your earliest convenience."
"The semester's barely started," she pointed out, with a brief chuckle.
"All the more reason," he replied promptly. "Midterm, I'll be swamped with work and playoffs. Tomorrow? My professors aren't even assigning readings yet."
Nancy smiled, but glanced over at her alarm clock, doing some mental calculations. "And that big front is supposed to come through..." she mused aloud.
"All the more reason for you to get here," he said, affecting a casual air. "To be snowbound with your favorite detective's assistant."
"I do need to make sure you stay on task. I'd hate for you to have to do summer school."
"Don't make me beg, Miss Drew. I'm not above it. And we definitely didn't see each other enough over Christmas."
"Mmm. I'll ask Dad in the morning."
"I'll be sure to send him a bouquet of melons carved into whimsical shapes to support your case."
Nancy laughed. "All joking aside, I love you."
"And all seriousness aside—I do love you. Madly. Completely. And just as you are."
Her eyes pricked suddenly with tears, and she sniffled. "Just as I am," she repeated in a whisper.
"Well. Except for one thing."
"Oh?"
"You're too far away. Other than that, you're perfect."
"Same to you."
"Then come to me," he murmured, and her lashes fluttered down as she nodded.