The pavement of the doorstep was rough against Lydia's knees. She spent a few minutes staring at the tiny bundle of blankets in her arms. Her son. Her sweet, innocent, baby boy. The child Lydia knew all too well she could never be able to take care of. For right now though, she would kneel on the doorstep, holding her baby, pretending she could be the mother he needed.
Finally she forced herself back to the cold, hard, reality she was in. With tears flowing freely down her face, Lydia kissed her son's forehead and placed him on the pavement. One last look. One last look was all she needed to say goodbye.
Lydia had convinced herself that this was necessary. She knew she would never be able to raise a child on her own, not properly anyway. She didn't have anyone who could help her either. Frank had left her flat as soon as he discovered her pregnancy and Tommy... Oh Tommy... Tommy was just about as clueless as her on this matter. No, it was better this way.
She finally was able to tear herself away from the baby, standing up and slowly reaching for the doorbell. Her fingers barely pressed the button before she turned around and ran, audibly crying now. She had no idea where she was even running to, she just knew that she had to run and get as far away as she possibly could.
She was already out of sight by the time Jane opened the door to find the baby sitting alone on the doorstep. She had already boarded a bus leaving Boston by the time Angela found the note tucked into the baby's blanket that simply said: "Please be the mothers I can't."