“Hopefully not more than I can remember.” Dakota walked to the receptionist and made her follow-up appointment.
As she and Finn walked to his car, she told him about the visit and what the doctor had said. “I have to get a prescription filled,” she said. “And change her formula, but I’m supposed to do that over time. Otherwise she could get really sick. Right now tummy trouble is the last thing she needs.”
Getting overwhelmed seemed easy enough, she thought. Talk about going from zero to sixty without a whole lot of warning. Everyone was encouraging her, telling her she could do it, but at the end of the day, she was going to be the one left with the baby.
“I’ll take you home,” Finn told her. “Then I’ll go get the prescription filled. One less thing for you to do.”
Dakota finished strapping Hannah into her car seat, then closed the back door and straightened. “You’ve already done so much for me. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll send you a list.”
The drive back to Dakota’s place didn’t take very long. She kept looking over her shoulder, checking on Hannah. Exhaustion seemed to have set in, and the baby was sleeping.
She told herself that once Hannah started on the medication, everything would be better. At least that was her hope. There were—
“Somebody’s having a party,” Finn said as he pulled into her driveway.
She followed his gaze and saw there were at least a dozen cars parked on the street. She recognized a few of them and had a feeling she knew the owners of the others.
Warmth and relief chased away a good portion of the fear. She really wasn’t alone. How could she have forgotten that?
“It’s not a party,” she told him, then got out of the car. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”
He faced her across the roof of the vehicle. “Then what is it?”
“Come see.”
She collected Hannah from her car seat. The baby barely stirred. Finn grabbed the diaper bag and followed her into the house.
She’d seen all the cars, but was still surprised by the number of people in her living room and kitchen. Her mother was there along with her sisters. Mayor Marsha and Charity, a very pregnant Pia. Liz and the feuding hairdressing sisters, Julia and Bella. Gladys and Alice, and Jenel from the jewelry store. There were women everywhere.
“There she is,” Denise said, hurrying toward them. “Are you all right? How was the trip? How’s your sweet little girl?”
Dakota handed her daughter over to her mother. But that was all she could do. Anything else was impossible. Her throat was too tight, her heart too full.
From where she stood, she could see stacks of presents. The packages were yellow and pink and white, topped with ribbons and bows. There was a high chair in the dining room and stacks of diapers on the chairs. She could see two steaming crockpots on the counter in her kitchen, a large basket of fruit and a bouquet of balloons.
As Denise rocked her new granddaughter in her arms, Nevada and Montana led Dakota into the spare room. Her small computer desk had been pushed to the far wall. Once-white walls had been painted the softest of pinks. New curtains hung at the windows. A thick rug covered the hardwood floor.
A crib sat in the center of the room. The linens were a cheerful yellow and white background with ballerina rabbits. A mobile of bunnies and ducks spun lazily overhead. There was a changing table and a dresser. The closet doors were open and tiny clothes hung on white hangers.
“It’s some special paint,” Nevada said. “There aren’t any fumes, so it’s safe for the baby. Everything else is organic or nontoxic.”
Dakota didn’t know what to say, so it was good that her sisters simply hugged her. She’d seen the town in action before, had been a part of it several times, but she’d never been on the receiving end of Fool’s Gold love. The sense of connection and belonging nearly overwhelmed her.
“I didn’t expect any of this,” Dakota whispered, fighting her happy tears.
“Then our work here is done,” Nevada teased.
Finn walked into the baby’s room. “You people know how to throw a party,” he said. “I’m going to get the prescription filled. I’ll be back as soon as they’re finished.”
She nodded, rather than speak. From her perspective, she’d already spent much of the day crying. If she tried to thank him, she would only resume the waterworks. The man deserved a break.
Dakota allowed her sisters to lead her back to the living room. Her mother still held Hannah, and the baby seemed more relaxed in experienced arms. Several of the women jumped up to make room for her on the sofa. Dakota collapsed onto the cushions. A plate was put in her hands and a glass of something that looked like Diet Coke was placed on the coffee table in front of her.