The American expat community generously donated clothing, even unopened packages of socks and underwear, to all new arrivals from Gilead. But after two weeks of hand-me-downs, June was ready for some clothes that actually suited her. And so one sunny morning, she took Nick and their baby to the mall, armed with the two refugee-gifts of $400 and Luke's credit card.

The crowds of the Eaton Centre made her invigorated but nervous, and Nick seemed even more on edge, as if he expected undercover Gilead operatives to jump out and arrest them all. But after a while, they finally grew accustomed to the cavernous space, and relaxed enough to enjoy the morning out together, chatting and exploring the mall like normal people in a normal society. They texted playful pictures to Luke: two huge steaming mugs from the coffeehouse, June with a huge grin by the bookstore, an excited Nichole in her stroller in front of the carousel, Nick with a 'just shoot me now' expression at The Gap, June with her eyebrows raised suggestively while holding a full Victoria's Secret bag. "We'll be home by one," they finally texted.

When the trio returned from their shopping adventure, Luke and Hannah were busy in the kitchen, preparing tuna salad sandwiches adorned with little Canadian-flag toothpicks. June came in, Nichole on her hip. She kissed her husband and daughter on the cheek.

Luke noticed the big fluffy toy lamb, clutched tightly in the baby's arms. "What's this?" he asked her. "You got a baba sheep?"

"Yes, we did," June said gently to Nichole. "Your daddy got you a sheep." She hoped he wouldn't bridle at the use of 'daddy' in reference to another man. "She saw it in a store window and refused to take no for an answer. I thought we were going to witness her first full-blown temper tantrum."

"She's as stubborn as her mother," Nick informed Luke as he entered the kitchen. "She got that look on her face."

"What look?" June said innocently. Both men rolled their eyes.

"Anyway, so I got the sheep, and"-he opened a shopping bag to show Luke—"an outfit for the little one. Can't believe how small clothes for newborns are." He frowned when he saw the tuna fish, stopping on the far side of the kitchen table next to Hannah. He nudged her. "I also got you a couple of things," he said nonchalantly to the girl.

Hannah beamed. "Which I receive with joy." The words were out of her mouth before she realized it was a Gilead thing to say. The kids at school would snicker…but she knew Nick would understand. He was good at that. She peeked at the light blue bag in his arms. "Can I see?" Luke looked on, curious.

Nick pulled out two t-shirts. "I hope they fit," he said, trying not to appear nervous. He wasn't accustomed to buying clothes for girls, but he was pretty sure he had this one girl, at least, figured out.

"I like the colors," Hannah said approvingly. No pink in sight. She squinted at the big white word written boldly across the first shirt. "What does it say?"

Luke came up alongside her. "FIERCE. Oh, that's perfect for you." He smiled thankfully at Nick before addressing his daughter. "You know what 'fierce' means?"

She nodded. "Like a tiger."

"That's right," Nick said. "Maybe that's why the shirt is orange, you know, like a tiger. And there's a second one. Purple. Can you read that?" He gave her a minute to think.

She sounded the word out silently. "Strong?" She hoped that was right. Everyone had been working so hard to help her learn to read.

"That's it, good job. The words on the shirts reminded me of you, so I thought you had to have them." He handed them to her. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Nick."

Sometimes Hannah sounded exactly like her mother. Different eyes, different mouth, but the same sweet voice. He smiled at her, a genuine smile. "Anytime."

As Hannah skipped off to her room to try on her new clothes, Nick caught Luke staring at him, and raised an eyebrow in question.

Luke gave a short laugh. "The Canadian government gave you $400, and you spent it on a stuffed sheep, a onesie for a baby that isn't even born yet, and t-shirts for my kid?"

Nick shrugged. "I'm not particularly good with money."

"Uh huh." Luke opened a bag of potato chips as a side dish for his sandwiches, spreading them out on four plates. "Did you get yourself anything at all?"

"Oh yeah, we spent a hell of a long time at Old Navy. And now I'm totally broke. So, listen," Nick continued, watching the food preparation, "I'm gonna skip lunch. Nothing personal."

"Yeah, sure." Luke suddenly seemed irked.

"No, really," he pressed. "It looks good, I'm sure it's delicious."

"Whatever," Luke muttered. "More for us." Every time I think we're getting along, he pushes away from me.

Nick considered retreating, to give him space, then changed his mind. Luke seemed to be perpetually confused by the motivations of everyone in the household, so perhaps open honesty was the right route here, even though Nick much preferred privacy. He took a breath and spoke quickly. "When I was eleven, my dad took off and left us. And my mom was addicted to painkillers, later heroin, and she…sometimes forgot to buy food. So when there was nothing else to eat, I ended up making my little brother a lot of tuna fish and crackers for dinner. I don't like the taste or smell of it anymore; it reminds me of bad times."

Luke had stopped working and was giving him his full attention. "Okay," he said as gently as possible. "Can I make you something else?"

"No, thanks, I'll just eat in my room." He grabbed a banana from the counter. Head down, he repeated, "It's really nothing personal, Luke."

"Hey," he called as Nick was leaving. "You know, for someone who had a shitty childhood with shitty role models, you're an extraordinarily good father." Nick turned, and Luke held his gaze and nodded encouragingly. "You really are."