Woman on the Edge(55)

“What’s wrong?” Tessa asked when she heard Nicole’s voice.

“Quinn. Is she there? Is she okay?”

“What? Of course. She’s fine. She’s sleeping in my arms. I sang her a lullaby,” Tessa said.

Nicole rested her head on the wheel. “Thank God.”

Nicole’s shoulders relaxed.

Every day, her hallucinations got worse. Her fear was swallowing her whole. What kind of mother was she? She realized she was right outside Morgan’s apartment building. What the hell was she doing? But it was too late to back out now.

“Are you at the Peninsula?” Tessa asked.

She had forgotten Tessa was still on the phone. “Yes, yes. Of course I am. I just pulled up.” Despite the shabby building and cracked sidewalks, orange and yellow petunias exploded with color on a small patch of grass between the sidewalk and curb. Two women pushing strollers, dogs trotting beside them, chatted happily as they passed by her. Maybe the residents weren’t wealthy, but did it even matter? It looked like a neighborhood filled with love and companionship, family barbecues and playdates. Nicole could barely take Quinn out of the house. What kind of childhood could she give her little girl? Her baby deserved a home filled only with goodness, security, and love.

“Enjoy every second. We’re all good here. I’m proud of you for going out, Nicole. So is Quinn. Call me when you’re on your way home, and I can order dinner for us.”

Nicole hung up and parked on the street right outside the front door of Morgan’s building. A few people were already heading out, but none of them were Morgan Kincaid.

What have you done?

Did Morgan hear that same question in her mind all the time? Nicole knew Morgan had been wrongfully accused. She was someone who was always looking out for others and who put herself last. Wasn’t this the kind of person who’d help her keep Quinn safe? And she wanted a child of her own.

Alone for the first time in months, Nicole scanned every corner of the building. Her limbs loosened. The sun rose high in the blue sky, a brilliant yellow orb, the colors of the destiny chakra. This was where she was supposed to be.

A woman exited the building, her straight black hair, a shade similar to Nicole’s, framing her narrow face. She was striking, though not conventionally beautiful. Her eyes were set too far apart, and even from here, Nicole could make out the fine web of crow’s-feet at the corners.

Morgan Kincaid was a survivor.

Glued to her seat, she watched as Morgan turned down the street. She was getting farther away. Nicole had expected to talk to her before she left the building. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to run after her. And she didn’t want to scare her. Morgan might call the police when she took one look at how disheveled Nicole was.

She pushed open her car door and stepped onto the pavement. She followed a respectable distance behind, giving Morgan enough space not to feel someone behind her, watching and following. Morgan entered Bryn Mawr station on the Red Line. Was she going to work? Nicole followed her up to the tracks.

A train was about to pull into the station. Nicole made a quick decision. She’d follow her right on. They boarded. Morgan sat against the metal frame closest to the exit, head down, thick sheet of hair pulled over her shoulders. It was clear she wanted to hide her face. Nicole sat a safe distance away, her head low, too, keeping Morgan in her peripheral vision, so she wouldn’t miss when she got off. How sad she looked. Morgan was still suffering, still paying for what her husband had done. Nicole understood. She paid, too, every single day she was alive.

A high-pitched cry from the front of the train made Nicole jump. It was a baby crying in its mother’s arms. Morgan gazed at the child, smiling, then glanced away, as if she couldn’t bear to look any longer.

The train pulled into Grand/State station. Morgan got up, and so did Nicole. She exited the train and followed Morgan down West Grand Avenue. Cars honked and braked, garage doors rolled up and down so loudly, her head pounded.

There were too many people. So much noise that she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to be in her big house, with Quinn attached to her in the Moby wrap. Morgan turned left on North LaSalle Drive and dropped some money into a homeless person’s cup. She chatted with him for a moment, and the bedraggled man smiled.

Nicole kept going. Morgan turned onto West Illinois Street, where there were fewer people. Nicole slowed, letting her get farther ahead. If Morgan turned around, she’d spot her. But she wasn’t ready to approach her yet; now that she was finally so close, she didn’t know what to say. She trailed behind as Morgan passed under a bridge and past a few shops. Then Morgan stopped at a small building set back from the road next to a church.

Nicole pressed herself against the side of the church as Morgan walked up a small gravel pathway. Was this the shelter? There was no sign, no one milling about. From her hiding place, she had a view of Morgan ringing a bell on the front door. Then Morgan whipped around. Did she sense someone staring at her?

Nicole was frozen. Go to her now, the voice inside her said. But she spotted cameras affixed to the building. Before she could do anything more, Morgan pulled a door open and disappeared inside.

Nicole rested her head against the rough brick wall and looked up at the cloudless blue sky. Quinn deserved so much better than Nicole. She deserved a fighter, and a mother who made the world a better place. A woman with a tragic past that was no fault of her own. A woman who deserved a second chance.