Shelby's door tends to bang in the wind when it isn't closed properly, but since Shelby never forgets to close the door, no matter how drunk or preoccupied with Beth she is, the fact that it's banging now isn't her fault. Someone forgot to close it when they opened the screen to knock on the peeling-painted hardwood, and being as it's around midnight and there's a tornado warning up for all of Western Ohio, she figures it's just the weather that's causing the annoying noise that had best not wake her baby.
She goes downstairs to close the door firmly, straining an ear out for any whimpering from Beth's newly-put-together nursery. The baby doesn't sleep well at all, and Shelby normally ends up bringing her into her bed anyway, but she'd like to set some sort of precedent here: babies belong in cribs, and that's final. Shelby can't be expected to teach tone-deaf students on less than three hours of sleep.
Beth, however, doesn't seem to agree. Such is life, Shelby supposes.
Reaching out to turn on the hall light, she actually has to stifle a scream when she sees a shadow in the doorway. It's like something out of a cheap, stupid horror movie, and Shelby's face sets in annoyance when she sees that the person in her doorway is actually a kid.
"Listen, rehearsal ends at ten on Friday nights because I'd like to think I'm a nice person and I'd like my daughter to remember she has a mother sometimes. This can wait until Monday, okay?"
"Shelby?" The voice that comes through the door doesn't belong to any of her Vocal Adrenaline kids, and she literally has to stifle an eye roll when she sees that it's Rachel.
"Rachel, honey . . . why do you keep doing this?" Shelby walks to the door and pulls it open wider. The slight brown-haired girl is huddle against the door jamb, a hoodie pulled over her shining hair, big dark eyes full of tears.
"Because. I don't really believe that you're sick of coaching Glee club. And I don't really believe that you don't want a relationship with me."
Rachel's honesty surprises Shelby, and despite herself, she takes Rachel's hand and leads her inside, out of the starting storm. As lightning flashes, she sees Rachel flinch, but the girl shucks off her hoodie and in the next moment, the expression is gone.
Ensconced in Shelby's living room, Rachel cups her hands around a hot cup of tea and looks at her feet. "I know this is stupid."
"I'm not going to lie, sweetie. It's not really appropriate." Shelby puts her tea on the table and looks at Rachel. "I lost my chance with you. I don't want to intrude on your life right now. And I'm not sure I really want you to intrude on mine."
"Is this what you think I am? An intrusion?"
Shelby sighs. "I made a mistake. I should never have reached out to you. I know hindsight's twenty-twenty, but I guess I never imagined that you'd be as adult and as sure of yourself as you are. I guess I pictured the baby that I left sixteen years ago in the hospital."
"I'm still that baby," blurts Rachel, and then shakes her head. "What I mean is, I'm still the daughter that you loved then. I'm just older now."
Thunder crashes then, and this time, Rachel actually covers her ears. Shelby's eyebrows rise. "Are you okay?"
The echo of the thunderclap reverberates across the sky, and Rachel stands. "I should go home. I'm sorry; I guess I didn't really know what I was doing."
"Well, you can't go home in this. You may as well stay until it storms itself out and then we'll call your dads, okay?"
If Rachel wants to ask why Shelby can't give her a ride home, she doesn't. Instead, she sits down on the couch and twists her hands. "I know I keep asking this, but why? Why do you think you missed out? Why can't we get to know each other as we are now?"
"Because it makes me too sad," says Shelby without thinking, and then meets Rachel's eyes, startled. Rachel gazes back at Shelby, understanding crossing her face.
Beth chooses this time to cry from her nursery. Rachel's expression turns to one of shock.
"You have a baby?"
"Quinn Fabray's," says Shelby, crossing the room to the hallway. "Her name is Beth."
She disappears around the corner and Rachel sits in shock, staring out the window at the growing storm, until Shelby comes back, cradling a tiny girl who looks almost exactly like Quinn.
"I don't understand," says Rachel blankly, and Shelby sighs.
"I adopted her, Rachel."
The expressions that cross Rachel's face then span everything from shocked to heartbroken to amazed. Shelby can't believe the amount of drama this girl carries around with her, and shifts the baby uncomfortably. "I have to feed her."
"You adopted her?" Rachel's voice is almost inaudible, and Shelby shakes her head.
"Just give me a sec, okay?" She places the baby on the couch beside Rachel. "Don't let her roll off, okay?"
Rachel hears fumbling in the kitchen, but she's focused on the crying baby beside her. Without thinking, she picks Beth up, rocking her a little in her arms. The baby's cries dwindle down to fussing, and she opens blue eyes to focus on Rachel's brown ones.
"You're pretty good with babies," says Shelby, coming back into the room and holding a bottle in her hands. Rachel shakes her head.
"I'm not. I just didn't want to hear her crying anymore. Here." She holds the baby out to Shelby, a bit awkwardly, and Shelby has to reach out to take Beth from Rachel's arms. When Rachel looks up again at Shelby, she's pouting.
Shelby sighs and slips the bottle nipple into the baby's mouth, sitting on the opposite chair and crossing her legs. "Rachel, I told you what I wanted at Regionals. I want a family."
"You have a family!" Rachel's voice is a little too loud, and she clears her throat, lowering her tone. "You found me. I didn't go looking for you. You knew I was out there and you found me. You have a family and you knew you always did."
"And Beth needs a family. You knew Quinn wasn't planning to keep her."
"I just don't get it. Is Beth supposed to be a replacement for me?"
Shelby doesn't say anything for a few moments, wiping a bit of formula from the corners of the baby's mouth, adjusting the bottle angle to get the milk to flow better. When she looks up, she looks sad. "Yeah, I guess so. I guess she is."
She clears her throat. "I missed this with you, Rachel. I didn't get the right to do this, to hold you close, to feed you and comfort you and make sure you were okay. And I've always regretted it."
Rachel doesn't say anything, but watches Shelby rock the baby until Beth falls asleep in her arms. When Shelby rises to put the baby back to bed, she gets up, too. "I guess I get it, in a way. I guess I understand."
She follows Shelby into Beth's room and watches the older woman's face change as she puts Beth back into her crib. Shelby's hardened features soften and change, her expression tender. She begins to hum Brahms' lullaby, rubbing the baby's back gently. Without thinking, Rachel hums in harmony.
They tiptoe out of Beth's room and Shelby faces Rachel in the hallway after closing the baby's door. "I'm sorry. I know this hurts. I didn't really mean for you to know this directly. I figured Quinn would tell you; it was an open adoption, but I didn't think you'd actually ever come here."
Rachel's face crumples, then, and she screws her fists into her eyes, rubbing them viciously. Shelby's face softens again.
"Rachel. Don't, okay? We both knew this would never work."
"I'm not one of your boyfriends!" Rachel's voice is loud, and Shelby shoots a look at Beth's door in panic. She steers Rachel into her own bedroom and closes the door, turning on the baby monitor.
Rachel looks at Shelby in the low bedroom light, her face tearstained. "I said, I'm not one of your boyfriends. I'm not really that adult, either. I didn't want to meet you and I wasn't looking for you, but you found me anyway and I wanted to meet you, then. After I heard you sing."
Her voice wobbles dangerously. "And you treat me like I'm some annoying fly that came into your house uninvited. You invited me, Shelby. And now you're trying to push me away, and it hurts. Especially since you have another daughter now, whom you obviously love, and I guess I'm just hurt. It hurts," finishes Rachel awkwardly, and she sinks on the bed, covering her face with her hands.
Shelby sighs, feeling the exhaustion of the past few weeks creep up on her. She sinks down on the bed beside Rachel and rubs her shoulders a little half-heartedly. "Hey. You're right. I wasn't fair. This wasn't fair to you."
The storm that was dying down now echoes over the house with a massive boom of thunder and Rachel begins to cry, burying her face in her hands. Shelby pulls Rachel into her arms then, and rocks her a little.
"Afraid of storms?" she asks somewhere above Rachel's head, and the younger girl nods a little.
"I know it's stupid. You can judge me," she says, sniffling, smiling a little ruefully through her tears. Shelby grins.
"Beth doesn't like loud noises, either."
"You're comparing me to your baby?" Rachel looks a little incredulous, and Shelby chuckles.
"Well, you were my baby, too. I guess you have something in common."
Rachel presses against Shelby, then, and Shelby simply holds her, humming the same lullaby she sang to Beth, rocking her back and forth on the bed in the half-light.
The storm rattles on overhead, and Rachel doesn't let go of Shelby until it's over. Shelby, for her part, doesn't try to pull away, even when her back cricks and her voice feels like it's going to give out. She looks down at her daughter and smiles.
"I guess I was wrong."
"You were?" Rachel wipes her eyes, rubs a hand across her nose. Shelby wrinkles hers and hands her a Kleenex.
"Ew. Yes, I was."
"Why were you wrong?" Rachel's voice is clear again, her face calm, and Shelby sees the inner strength that she first admired at the Sectionals competition three months before.
"I guess we didn't miss our chance. I mean, for a relationship. We didn't miss out."
"I think you thought I'd be an adult that didn't need you for anything. And maybe you were right in some ways. I take care of myself," says Rachel, her bravado after her crying jag endearing. "But I still need my mom sometimes. Like tonight."
"Like tonight," agrees Shelby, and she squeezes Rachel's shoulder. "Thanks for coming by."
Rachel smiles. "Thanks for . . . you know. Putting up with me."
"Hey. Are you guys practicing for next year yet?" Shelby winks, tossing her long hair over her shoulders, and Rachel smiles in return.
"If we were, why would I give anything away? You're still the competition – even if you are my mom."
Shelby offers to call Rachel's dads to pick her up, but Rachel shakes her head. "It's a nice evening, now that the storms have passed. I'll just walk home."
Watching the girl walk down the shining street, Shelby closes the door behind her firmly, making sure it's locked against any further wind. She maintains her composure until she gets upstairs, and then brushes a few tears out of her eyes before going to her other daughter's room to take care of her for the night.
Maybe she needs Rachel just as much as Rachel needs her.