Ned stopped at the garage door and muttered everything he would need under his breath: his "winter" jacket, which would have been woefully inadequate for a December day in Chicago but was just fine here in Georgia; his wallet; his car keys. Normally Nancy was here to help him remember everything, but she had left for her current temp assignment before his alarm had gone off. He remembered the brush of her lips against his cheek and a soft caress against his shoulder before she had headed out, and he had only roused long enough to murmur "Love you" before falling asleep again.

God, he loved her. She had even left him three strawberry muffins for breakfast.

"Lunch," he exclaimed, and bolted toward the fridge. Last night he and Nancy had put together a spaghetti dinner, something quick and easy. Nancy was starting to feel better, but she was still cautious about what she ate; for about a week, all that she had been able to keep down had been mashed potatoes.

Ned took out the Tupperware container holding the generous serving of spaghetti left over, the pasta and meat sauce topped with shredded parmesan, and two thick slices of garlic cheese toast wrapped in foil. His co-workers had teased him at first about his enormous brought-from-home lunches, but he and Nancy were doing all they could to conserve and save money. A baby Nickerson was growing in her womb, after all.

A baby Nelson.

Ned glanced into the living room as he slotted his lunch into an insulated bag. His parents, or more particularly his mother, went all-out when decorating for Christmas; Ned had never considered how much all of it cost, mostly because she reused almost everything from year to year. He and Nancy had picked out a modest live tree over the weekend, and then decided on gold and red for decorations: gold ribbon and miniature white lights were twined around the tree, and sparkling red globes hung from many of the branches. Two red-and-gold stockings hung from the mantel above the gas fireplace, and a stuffed, rosy-cheeked Santa was tucked into a corner of one couch. They didn't have any of the familiar ornaments, the miniature snow-blanketed village scenes, the holly-bedecked kitchen towels and oven mitts, the cranberry-scented candles, or the rest, the decorations Ned had helped his parents put up every year and then store in the attic once the season was over. Ned and Nancy had placed a green fir wreath on their front door with a red velvet ribbon tied in a jaunty trailing bow, and Nancy had wrapped lit garland around the porch railing. She hadn't had a lot of energy for much else, and Ned hadn't wanted to dip into their baby fund for more decorations.

This would be what their child would see for his or her first Christmas, next year.

Ned didn't know how he was supposed to feel about it. He knew how he did feel, though. Imagining raising a child without his parents or Nancy's father or Hannah around was more than a little terrifying, and he was pretty sure that he and Nancy were only keeping their calm because they had agreed to just not talk about it, to focus on what they could do, to check out used bookstores for parenting books, to find what they could at secondhand shops and yard sales.

Ned's longing for home was tangible, and sometimes it hurt so much that he just couldn't think about it at all. Instead he gazed at his wife and remembered yet again that while he would have done anything to change the circumstances, he had been given a version of the life he had always wanted. Nancy was here with him, they were in love, and she was carrying their child.

Before he left, he jotted a note and left it for her on the fridge. She would be home before he was, if she didn't need to work overtime. He had begged her not to. The last thing he wanted was for her to overexert herself, especially under the circumstances.

He cast one last glance around and activated the alarm system before leaving.

Nancy's finger hovered over the silver oval button on the phone system. Twice, now, she had hit the wrong button when trying to put a call on hold. She pressed her lips together and decided, then sighed in relief when she heard the familiar double-beep that meant she had made the right choice.

"Got the hang of it, Di?" Rudy flashed her a grin. Rudy had trained her in almost everything on the front desk, and almost every day he brought treats to share with her. He was one of the nicest guys she had worked with during her temp assignments.

"Yeah, I think so." Nancy shoved a lock of her wig out of her face and smiled back at him. She wore black scrubs with candy-cane-striped trim; she was glad that the top was a little loose around her belly. Although her obstetrician had assured her that it was safe for her to tell other people she was pregnant now, since she had safely finished her first trimester, she still felt protective about it. Mia knew, but Mia had suspected her new friend was pregnant for months now, and was incredibly excited that their babies could have play dates. As far as Nancy was concerned, though, no one else needed to know.

The people she most wanted to know… couldn't.

Nancy put that out of her mind. Every day she had to fight her impulse to do something to help the case, in terms of research or contacting possible sources, or even reaching out to Bess to make sure she was all right. But she was no longer the reckless young woman who had set out to find the people responsible for her boyfriend's murder. She had a husband and a growing child to consider.

But that made her even more impatient to get home. She needed Hannah and Edith. She needed someone to help her. In less than a year, if everything proceeded well with her pregnancy, she would be a mother.

Nancy had no idea how to be a mother. Ned was so reassuring, but she knew that he was scared too, and that scared her. He was her rock through all this, and she loved him so much.

Rudy walked up with a checkout sheet. "All right. Mrs. Patterson's ready. You got this?"

"Yep." Nancy nodded, reaching for it.

The women's clinic where she was temping handled everything from routine physicals to Pap smears, gynecological exams and obstetric exams, mammograms, births. It wasn't the women's clinic that Nancy herself used, for which she was grateful. God, she had been so nervous during her first visit, waiting for someone to look up at her and declare that her identification had been forged, that her insurance card had been declined. That hadn't happened. As far as they knew, she was Diana Nelson, a woman about to celebrate her first anniversary with her husband Ricky.

Mrs. Patterson placed her enormous metallic-gold purse on the counter and shuffled through it, looking for her wallet. "Everything good?" she asked Nancy. "Oh, I love the candy-cane on your scrubs!"

"Thanks," Nancy said with a smile. "Yes, everything's good."

Two women had been in that week for pregnancy tests. Of course they were pretty sure that they were probably pregnant, thanks to missing their periods. One had been accompanied by her male partner, and another by an overjoyed, also pregnant female friend. They had been so excited, so eager to receive their results. Nancy very vividly remembered dreading hers.

It wasn't that she didn't want this baby. It was just a blessing she hadn't been ready for, not yet.

A dark-haired woman approached the reception desk right after Nancy returned for lunch, and signed in. Her face was drawn, and she kept her head down. After she had signed in, she glanced around the waiting room, then selected a seat far away from anyone else. Immediately she took out her cell phone and started scrolling.

Nancy took the clipboard and looked up the name in the system. She found a close hit, but the birthdate didn't match.

"Lynn?" Nancy called. The woman glanced up, and when Nancy beckoned her up, she approached the desk again. "I'm not finding you in our system. Are you…"

"Oh. I guess I'm new?"

"Oh, okay. Well, here's a clipboard, and I'll need a photo ID and your insurance card. Fill this out and bring it right back."

Lynn nodded and took the clipboard, and Nancy scanned in her ID and insurance card. Entering in a new patient meant going through a few screens, and Nancy took the clipboard once Lynn had returned it.

Reason for today's visit: pregnancy test

Nancy very nearly glanced over at her, but stopped herself at the last second. She felt intense, immediate sympathy for the young woman, who clearly seemed upset.

Lynn had to wait for the physician's assistant to fit her in, and when she walked to the back, she was frowning. Maybe she had taken a home test and was just hoping it was wrong. Nancy knew how that was. She picked up one of the peanut butter cups Rudy had given her at lunch and took a bite.

"All right, we have Lynn Broome. She'll need a follow-up." Rudy handed over her sheet after Nancy had checked out three other patients.

"Oh." Nancy checked over her sheet. She would be coming back in for a scan in a few weeks. Apparently the test had been positive.

Lynn approached her a moment later. Tears were gleaming in her eyes, and she was fumbling for her purse like someone lost in a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Nancy teared up just looking at her, and reached for a tissue. She offered the young woman one before taking one herself.

"So I'll be setting you up for a follow-up," Nancy said. "What time of day is best for you?"

Lynn sniffled, swiping under her nose, and didn't answer right away. "Uh, can I call you and…" Her face crumpled, and she leaned against the counter, gasping in a breath.

Nancy stood and patted the other woman's hand, a tear streaking down her own cheek. "Sure, you can call," she reassured her. "Appointments fill up, so if you could call soon, that would be good. Do you want to sit down?"

Nancy came out from behind the desk, giving Rudy a grateful nod as he took her seat, and escorted Lynn over to one of the open conversational groupings. She grabbed a tissue box and placed it on the small table between them. "It's all right, just breathe," Nancy told her. "It's going to be all right."

Lynn shook her head and swiped under her nose again. "No it won't," she said, her voice muddied by tears. "He's not coming back. I don't know what I'm gonna do."

Nancy didn't know what to say, so she just patted Lynn's back and let her cry. Nancy's own heart ached. She had been terrified by the news of her own pregnancy, but she had known that she and Ned would figure something out. Lynn didn't have that.

Lynn looked up. "Um, I… I don't know if I can do this," she said, and looked into Nancy's eyes. "Is there a… a place I can go…"

Nancy gave her a small smile. "I have a card," she said quietly. "Let me bring it to you. I'll be right back."

Lynn had recovered a little when Nancy returned with a business card and handed it to her. "I wrote my cell number on the back," she said. "There's a weekly support group here for… women who are pregnant. And I just found out that I'm pregnant too, not too long ago. I know it's really scary. I know it's a hard choice to make."

Although Nancy hadn't made a choice, not really. She had told Ned, Ned had been almost instantly pleased… and the baby was both of them. It had been in the back of her head, and she wouldn't deny that; it had only been a fleeting thought, though. She had known she could have an abortion and there would be no question. But she had never really considered it. They had lived in Georgia for what felt like so brief a time, and the logistics: who would take her, how would she pay for it, would she tell Ned…

And all of that had been in the space of a few seconds. What was growing in her womb was a piece of her and Ned. She couldn't pluck it out. It was wanted and loved.

Lynn took the card and made a vague promise that she would call. Nancy wasn't sure if she would ever see the young woman again, and she silently wished her well.

Rudy gave Nancy an understanding smile when she returned to the area behind the desk. "It's always hard when it's like that," he said.

"Will she come back, do you think?"

Rudy shrugged. "Maybe. Sometimes they go and they can't go through with it. Sometimes they change their minds. Or they just hope that the problem will… resolve itself." He patted her arm. "Look, it's okay."

Nancy briefly raised her eyebrows—she had to color them to match her wig when she did her makeup in the morning, which drove her crazy—and gave Rudy a little smile. "I guess you kinda get used to it, huh."

He nodded. "But I know it's probably a little hard for you, too. Are you about… twelve weeks or so?"

Nancy flushed and searched Rudy's eyes, debating whether she could lie, whether she would even try. She settled on, "Does anyone else know?"

"Probably." He reached for another check-out ticket the PA was handing over. "But it's all right. You know everyone here loves you. And once Maureen gets back… probably a full-time position will open up. You want a great baby shower? We throw a great baby shower here. All stuff you'll actually use; none of that ridiculous stuff, the cute useless crap."

Nancy nodded slightly. At least her cheeks felt a little less hot.

After her shift was over, Nancy stopped at the store and headed home. Ned didn't want her carrying heavy loads of groceries—he had read two parenting books so far, and took everything in them very seriously—and so she had opted for just a few things: trimmed chicken breasts, potatoes she could cut up and roast, some butter and olive oil. When people at the store or the gas station saw her in scrubs and gave her a knowing smile, she smiled back, but felt a little bit like she was lying. They thought she was one of them, but she felt like she didn't quite fit in anywhere. It was only when she walked into the home she shared with Ned that she could relax.

This is where their child would come home, she thought as she walked in through the garage door, turning off the alarm, remaining still and quiet for a second so she could hear anything suspicious. The lights on the tree were off, and Nancy turned them on, then turned on the oven.

Their home.

Nancy saw the note Ned had left under a fridge magnet as she opened it to put the groceries away.

My beautiful, my only,

Thank you again for all you do for me. You are the sunshine in every day and I love you more than I can possibly express. Please take it easy until I come home.

Nancy teared up again as she read his note. Maybe their life together wasn't what either of them had imagined, and she would certainly change the circumstances if she could. But she couldn't deny that Ned was a sweet, incredibly considerate guy she loved with all her heart.

And now that they were deep in this life… she wished that somehow, along the way, the feds really had legally married them. Oh, Ned was her husband in every possible way, and they had more than kept the vows they had spoken to each other. But there was no marriage certificate anywhere legally binding Nancy Drew and Ned Nickerson.

Not that there even could have been then, she reminded herself. By the time the feds had started the process of moving them to Georgia, she was certain that both of them had likely been "dead."

Once she had dinner prepped and in the oven, Nancy went to their room and changed into her lounging clothes: a long-sleeved henley and flannel pants, fuzzy socks, and a zippered hoodie. Ned joked that they were perfect for each other because she was cold-natured, and he more than made up for it when they were cuddling. She stretched out on the couch and pulled a soft sherpa-lined throw over her, and started scrolling through the channels.

Before she knew it, before she even realized it, she was resting her eyes for a moment, a moment more…

"Sweetheart?"

"Mmm." Nancy's lashes were low and she was shuffling as she pulled a pan out of the oven and placed it on the stove.

"Hey. It's all right," Ned said, rushing over to her. "You look like you're about to pass out. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." She moaned softly. "I just fell asleep on the couch. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, baby. Is that all you needed to do?"

She shook her head. "Potatoes need a little longer," she murmured. She let him slide his arm around her waist and guide her back to the couch, though.

"Here, honey. It's okay, just lie back down. I'll take them out."

"You're so sweet." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his jaw. "You're my sunshine too, Ned."

He grinned. "I love you, honey. It's all right. Get some rest."

She closed her eyes practically as soon as she was on the couch, and Ned took off his coat and put his lunchbox away, rinsing out the empty spaghetti container again before he put it in the dishwasher. The chicken smelled great, and he looked at the pan of roasting potatoes, then looked in their small pantry and the freezer. Nancy usually opted for a spinach and something-else salad, usually iceberg or romaine, and he set to work putting together two side salads for them.

He silenced the timer for the potatoes as quickly as he could, but he heard Nancy stirring anyway. She moaned and shuffled into the kitchen a moment later. "I'd kill for a cup of coffee right now," she muttered.

Ned gave her a sympathetic smile. "Tea?"

She nodded. "Oh, baby, I could've…" She shook her head when she saw the salads, and when she looked up at him, he saw tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Nan?"

She reached for him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "You're just amazing," she told him.

Ned shook his head. "It's okay," he told her. "Did you have a bad day?"

She gave him another squeeze and released him. "It was mostly good," she said. "I just saw this woman who had come in for a pregnancy test, and she was upset because the baby's father wasn't in her life. And I thought about you, and how this isn't the time either of us would have chosen… but I wouldn't share this with anyone else. From practically the second I told you, you were excited to share this with me. I feel bad that she didn't have that."

"I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath, then went to the refrigerator for salad dressing. Ned had pulled out a mug and filled it with water, and it was in the microwave. He'd pulled out a bag of her decaffeinated tea, too. She gave him a grateful smile.

"You're an amazing man, Ned. And I wouldn't share you for worlds. Other than with our baby."

He kissed her temple. "Same to you, honey. I love you so much. And I always want to give you everything you need."

"So how was your day?"

Dinner was a leisurely affair, although Ned couldn't stop raving about the roasted potatoes. They had come out wonderfully golden, crisp and delicious. Nancy smiled and ducked her head, and Ned could tell she was proud.

After the meal, after they cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher and watched the news, Ned made them both brownie sundaes with warmed leftover brownies, scoops of vanilla ice cream, and drizzled caramel sauce with pecan chips. Nancy released a moan that was almost a hungry growl when he handed her an oversized mug. "Mmm. Get ready for something delicious," she said, rubbing her belly.

Ned laughed. "That it is," he said, sitting down next to her. With the Christmas tree lights twinkling gently from the corner of the living room, the dessert, his wife sitting beside him… he was just filled with a sense of peace.

Nancy fell asleep on the couch beside him once she had finished her sundae, and hearing her quietly breathe was enough to make Ned tired, too. He looked around the living room, the walls they had painted themselves, the Christmas decorations, and then leaned over to give Nancy a kiss on the cheek. He turned off the television and she stirred, making a soft inquisitive sound.

"Bedtime," he murmured.

"Mmm. Okay," she murmured.

She stripped off most of her clothes, the hoodie and flannel pants and socks, before she joined him in bed and cuddled against him. The sheets were cold, and she was shivering; Ned wrapped his arms around her. He had set their alarms, although he had winced when he set hers. He wished they didn't need her income, but he couldn't deny it was useful.

"I can't imagine how it's going to be," she whispered.

"How what's going to be?"

"Being parents." She yawned hugely. "Like this."

"Messy and hard and incredible," he suggested. "But we'll be together. I love you, sweetheart."

"And I will always love you," she whispered, nestling against his shoulder, the slight curve of her growing belly pressed against his side.