A/N: For J. Happy birthday. I love you more than more than anything.
This is a Regrettably AU. Rachel is eight (going on nine lol) and Shelby is 25. Enjoy!
"Wow!" Rachel exclaims, leaning against the leg of the couch with a reverent sigh and shaking her head in complete amazement. "I… You… Ugh. Mom… You're just… sooo cool!"
On the other end of the video call, Shelby can't fight the large grin that spreads across her face at the sight of her usually verbose child struggling to find her words through her awestruck smile.
"Yeah?" she prompts - never one to shy away from adulation, most especially when it comes from her daughter. "You think so?"
"I know so," Rachel confirms, eyes still glistening with admiration. She shifts slightly, pulling one knee up from underneath her and wrapping her own arms tightly around it. "You're really going to be on Broadway, Mom! This is… It's huge!"
"You've known about it for a while now, Star," Shelby reminds her.
Rachel shakes her head again. "But it's different now, Mom," she says matter-of-factly. Shelby raises her eyebrows and waits for what she's sure will be a detailed explanation. "Now… Now you're really, really going to rehearsals and trying on real costumes and… Ugh! You're just so. Cool."
"I'm glad you think so, baby," Shelby laughs.
And she is. She'd thought that nothing could top the elation she'd felt when she'd received a call from her agent letting her know that she'd been cast as Fantine's understudy and an ensemble member in the Broadway revival of Les Miserables. Her Broadway debut - it's what she'd been fantasising about for as long as she could remember. It was the thing that had kept her going through countless hours of training as a kid; the dream that she'd worked so hard to revive after everything happened with Rachel's birth; the singular notion that kept her focussed through long nights in New York when all she'd really wanted was to be back at home with her baby. Being told that all her hard work had finally, finally paid off was incredible.
However, none of that had prepared her for how extraordinary it would feel to tell the three people she loves most in this world her news. She'd stopped Rachel from immediately running off with the iPad during their usual FaceTime session and, instead, had asked her to call both her dads into the room so that she could make the announcement.
Hiram had immediately burst into tears, of course, and had become an inconsolable mess of pride. Leroy had sat in shock for a few, long seconds before passing a box of Kleenex over to his husband. He'd then sprung into a lengthy monologue about how they always knew that she could do it and how she was simply the most-talented and driven person any of them had ever come across. Rachel, who had been sitting on her daddy's lap, had jumped up onto the couch like the news had passed an electric current through her legs. Through the mess of everything going on in the Berry's living room, Shelby had only been able to catch snippets of her excitedly shouting about how she couldn't wait to tell everyone at school. And at her music and dance classes. And on her bus. And the postwoman.
Back in her New York apartment, Shelby had simply watched with a huge smile playing across her lips and a few tears stinging in her own eyes. She'd done it, and she got to tell her family that she'd done it. Nothing compared to that feeling.
"Tell me about the rehearsals again!" Rachel says, practically bouncing up and down in her excitement. "Oh- and the other actors! Are they nice? Are you all friends? Have you met the girl playing young Cosette? Are you sure I can't audition? Wait!" She stops suddenly, before Shelby has even had a chance to think about replying and pushes herself up off the floor. The shaking camera shows her running through into the kitchen. "I wrote a list with all of my questions!"
"Calm it with the running please, Star," Shelby hears Leroy's voice call from somewhere in the distance.
"Sure, Daddy!" she shouts back, though does nothing to slow her scuttling pace.
"Rach, calm down, love," Shelby says, raising her voice slightly in the hopes of being heard of Rachel's clattering footsteps. "You're going to hurt yourself running around like that."
Rachel pouts as she comes to a halt, which, naturally, involves her slamming the entire weight of her small body up against the kitchen wall. "I just wanted to show you my list," she says dejectedly, holding up a white notebook covered in gold stars. "I was working on it earlier."
Shelby, as she always does, pouts in sympathy with her daughter. "You can show me your list, honey. But quickly, okay? You've got about fifteen minutes until bedtime."
"What?" Rachel's mouth gapes open. "B-but, Mommy," she whines. "I can't do it quickly! I have-" she opens the notebook and hastily flicks through the pages as best she can with one hand- "seventy-nine questions!"
Shelby can't help her snort. She sobers quickly when Rachel's pout deepens. "Sorry, Star. I'm happy that you're so interested. But you said you did this earlier? Weren't you meant to be working on homework earlier?"
"Um," Rachel stalls, refusing to meet her mother's eyes through the camera lens. "Kind of… But this is Broadway, Mom! Plus, they're not all my questions. Jesse from ballet gave me some to ask you too! And-"
"Okay, okay," Shelby sighs, smiling at her ever-exuberant little girl. "How about we make a deal? I'll answer a few of yours and Jesse From Ballet's questions every night, and then I promise whatever we don't get around to, I'll answer when I see you next weekend, okay?"
Rachel bites her lip in deep thought before nodding. "I guess that works." She sets the iPad down on the table and then scoots into a chair, using one finger to scan through her list of questions.
"Okay," Shelby repeats. She watches for a moment before breaking out into a sly grin. "Hey, Rach?"
"Yeah?"
"I can't quite remember why I'm coming up to see you guys next weekend," she says nonchalantly. "Is it a special occasion?"
"Mom," Rachel groans in exasperation. "You do know why."
Shelby shakes her head innocently. "Nope, I think it's slipped my mind…"
"You're not funny, Mom," the girl says crossly.
"I'm not trying to be! I just really can't remember…"
Rachel shoots her a deadpan look. "It's my birthday, Mom."
"Oh, yeah," Shelby says, clapping a hand to her forehead. "I can't believe I forgot that my baby girl is turning nine!"
"I'm not a baby," Rachel protests.
"No," Shelby acquiesces, swallowing the lump rapidly forming in her throat, "I guess you're not, my big girl."
Rachel frowns at that equally babyish assessment and begins to unload her questions onto her mother. She only squeezes in two more not-so subtle appeals to be allowed to audition for young Cosette, so Shelby takes it as a win. After ten minutes, a lot of pouting and a promise for a bedtime song, Rachel eventually delivers the iPad to her dads and morosely climbs the stairs to get ready for bed.
"Hello, hello," Shelby grins as Hiram and Leroy's faces come into view. "It's me- world's worst mother because I want my child to get a decent night's sleep before school." Neither of them smile. In fact, they're both also fixing her with deep pouts. "What's going on?"
"We're mad at you," Hiram tells her.
"Okay?" Shelby frowns. Now that Rachel's gone, she reaches for the glass of wine on her nightstand and takes a slow sip. "For any particular reason or…?"
"'Oooh Mom is sooooo cool!'" Hiram gushes in a high-pitched tone.
"'Did you know Mom's at a real Broadway rehearsal today?'" Leroy continues. "'She's just the coolest person ever!'"
Shelby laughs loudly and shrugs. "What can I say? It's not my fault that Rachel's got impeccable taste."
"She used to think I was cool," Leroy says wistfully. "I remember when she fell over because she was walking around in my work shoes. Those were the days…"
"Oh, yeah," Shelby nods. "I just love it when our kid gets injured too. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
"Like, don't get us wrong, Shelbs," Hiram continues, ignoring her. "Every single time I think about it, it is like my heart bursts into a thousand small pieces that all scream, 'I'm the proudest man alive!' but…"
"But we thought we'd have at least a couple more years until Rachel realised that you're the 'cool one'," Leroy finishes.
"Oh, please," Shelby scoffs. "I've always been the cool one. We all have our roles, right? The cool one," she says, pointing at herself before turning her finger on Hiram. "The overly-emotional one." He jerks backwards in outrage while Leroy nods his agreement. "And the semi-competent one," she concludes, gesturing to Leroy.
"A trio like never there was," he grins. "And one which I, personally, am highly anticipating the reunion of."
"Right," Shelby says. Her stomach flutters a little at the thought of it. She really does try to make it back to Ohio at least once a month to see them all, but her schedule is so packed at the moment that it's been almost seven weeks since she was last able to. "I have rehearsal until five on Friday, but I'll go straight to the airport after. Cassie's going to pick me up in Columbus and we should be with you sometime late evening."
"I can't wait," Hiram says genuinely. "And you know that Little Miss Rachel has been more excited about you coming than her actual birthday."
"Yeah?" Shelby asks, her face dropping a little and a familiar feeling of guilt nestling itself deep in her stomach. "I miss her so much, too. All of you. It's been so long, I know, I just-"
"Hey," Leroy interrupts, shaking his head, "you're juggling a lot right now, Shelbs. We understand completely, and I know Rach is trying her best to as well."
"I know," she sighs, trying to stop herself from falling into her age-old internal debate about where she should be and what she should be doing.
"You look nice, honey," Hiram says, diverting the subject. "Just got in or going out?"
"Going out." She grimaces. "I'm exhausted, but April's singing at this bar tonight and I promised I'd be there."
"Oh, nice," Leroy nods. "And… uh… you're just going with some friends, are you?"
Shelby rolls her eyes; she knows already where this is heading. "Yup."
"That boy you've been seeing isn't going?" Hiram asks in what she's sure is supposed to be a casual manner.
"'That boy' is a thirty-year-old man named Adam," she says pointedly. "But no - he's not going. We actually ended things last week."
"Oh," he says, "I'm sorry to hear that, Shelbs."
"No you're not," she laughs, raising an eyebrow at both men. "You both hated him, despite knowing next to nothing about him."
"Only because you wouldn't tell us anything!" Hiram complains.
"Only because you always get like this," she counters knowingly. They both squirm a little and she shakes her head with a chuckle. "It's fine. I was never really invested in it."
"Which is good," Leroy says, "because I don't think either of us ever got good energy from him, did we, Hiram?" His husband nods solemnly in agreement.
"Well it's a good job neither of you were sleeping with him then."
"Shelby, don't," Hiram gasps, throwing a despairing hand over his chest. "I can't… The thought… It doesn't sit well with me at all."
"Wait? You mean you don't want to hear about my sex life?"
"I'd rather you didn't even know what a sex life was."
"Oh yeah," Shelby grins. "I'd forgotten that Rach was the second immaculate conception."
"I'm ready!"
"And there's our little miracle herself," Leroy says.
Shelby exchanges goodnights and 'I love yous' with them both before he picks up the iPad and carries her up the stairs to Rachel's room. Like always, Shelby drinks in the sight of her daughter's space; sometimes, she has to pinch herself to remind her that it's all real.
"You know the drill, Star," Leroy tells the girl, holding the device just out of her reach. "A chapter of your book, goodnights with Mom and then we'll come to collect the iPad, okay?"
"Okaaaaay," Rachel sighs. "But! Well, Daddy, I'm almost nine. I think you can trust me enough to put it away and go to sleep on my own now."
Leroy taps her nose. "No chance, kid. Remember when Dad forgot and we found you at eleven o'clock on YouTube watching old Tony performances?"
"B-but, Daddy! I was just… Fine," she grumbles at the look on Leroy's face. "You can come and collect it."
"Oh, very generous of you." The camera shakes as he leans down and pulls his daughter into a tight hug. "I love you, Star. I hope you have the sweetest dreams ever and I'll see you in the morning."
"I love you more."
"And I love you the very most."
Once he's left the room and Rachel's sitting up against her headboard, Shelby reaches for her copy of Rachel's current book - something she's been doing for years now.
"Chapter eight, right, Star?"
"Right, Mommy," the girl yawns, leaning her face down into her pillows.
"Okay," Shelby says, flicking to the right page, "let's get you ready for a good night's sleep, baby."
"Now life has killed the dream, I dreamed," she finishes twenty minutes later. She's not sure what she makes of the rather depressing lullaby, but Rachel seems content, a sleepy smile crossing her lips.
"Mommy?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"You really promise you're coming back for my birthday?"
Shelby smiles sadly, hating that she has to reassure her this much. "I really promise that I'm coming back for your birthday, Star."
000
"Oh- and what does the rehearsal room look like?"
Shelby shakes her head good-naturedly as she hurries down the busy street on Friday morning, phone pressed to her ear. All week long, she's been treated to numerous phone calls from her daughter; she's sure the girl (and maybe Jesse From Ballet) must have been adding to the initial list. It definitely feels like it. Still, she knows she could answer a million questions from her and never get bored.
"It's just a big studio, Star," she says, dodging an older couple who have stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk to consult a map. "Kind of like the ones for your dance classes, but super big so that the whole cast can fit in there when we need to."
"Wooooow," Rachel breathes - her usual enamoured response to any of these questions. "What scene are you doing today?"
"We're doing the innkeeper scene and Master of the House."
She's sure she hears Rachel almost choke on her morning cereal. "Mom!"
"That's me."
"That scene has young Cosette in!" the girl exclaims.
Shelby grimaces slightly; she definitely has doubts as to whether her eight-year-old should really knows the ins and outs of such a mature show. But it's not all her fault - her dads had been there when they'd all watched the movie several times on repeat last Christmas.
"That's right, my love," she replies with no doubt in her mind as to where this is going.
"If young Cosette doesn't show up, you should call me and I can fill in on speaker phone!" Rachel gushes. "I already know all the words and everything, Mom!"
"I don't doubt that you do, honey," Shelby chuckles before Rachel can attempt to prove her declaration. "But you'll be at school, remember?"
"Oh yeah." She can practically hear Rachel deflating. "But maybe Daddy can call me out for today! Just in case, you know?"
"Oh, I know," she says, smirking. "But, firstly, that's a hard no from me, and, secondly, if you were going to ask either of your dads to do that, Rach, then Dad is definitely the way to go." She comes to a stop outside a large building and checks her watch - for once, she's just about on time. Catching her breath for a moment, she leans up against the brick wall. "I gotta run, Star. Have a good time at school today and behave, okay?"
"I always behave!" Rachel defends. Her mother can just imagine the kind of outraged face she's pulling.
"Sure you do." She waves at a couple of cast-mates as they let themselves in the main entrance. "Listen, Rach, I won't have time to call after rehearsal, but I'll come and tuck you in as soon as I'm home tonight, okay?"
"Okay," Rachel says. "Can I wait up?"
"I'm probably going to be pretty late, baby," Shelby sighs. "But we can hang out all morning tomorrow while we're setting up your party?"
"Okay," the girl says again. "Because you're coming, right? You promise you're coming back for my birthday?"
"I promise," Shelby assures her for the hundredth time that week. "I'll be there before you know it, Star."
After hanging up, she reaches into her purse to retrieve her key card. Of course, it's somehow wormed it's way right to the bottom and she has to fish through the miscellaneous crap dumped in there to extract it. Her triumphant nod at doing so is cut short when she feels a large drop of rain land on her forehead. It meanders its way down her and face and, sighing irritably, she casts a look up at the thick, grey clouds overhead. One thing she'd noticed missing from her purse is her umbrella. Typical.
000
By six o'clock that evening, she's about ready to throttle someone. Rehearsal had run over, and she'd spent a painful extra fifteen minutes in the stuffy studio, glaring pointedly between the micro-managing director and the ticking clock. When she'd finally torn her way out of the building and stepped out onto the bustling street, the forgotten umbrella seemed even more ridiculous. It would have been like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound, anyway. The rain was pouring down from the sky like it had a personal score to settle with someone; each drop rebounded into the air with a vengeance when it slopped down into the awaiting puddles. Thick, fast rivulets were forming alongside the entire length of the curbs which, naturally, was where Shelby's wallet found itself as she slung herself into the first cab she managed to find.
"Fucking fuck," she'd groaned, fishing it back out and trying to shake off the grimy water. The driver, already looking rather perturbed by the amount of water she'd brought into his car with her, had scowled when she added an, "And quickly, please!" at the end of her address.
"Oh, that's weird," he'd quipped sarcastically. "Everyone else always wants me to drive as slowly as possible."
Shelby had ignored him and continued to wring out her hair, which was soaked from the few minutes she'd spent outside.
"Bag, jacket, umbrella, wallet. Bag, jacket, umbrella, wallet," she mutters under her breath as she frantically snatches up her possessions from around the small apartment. "Bag, jacket…" Where the fuck is her umbrella? "April!"
The blonde emerges from her bedroom with a raised eyebrow. "You bellowed?"
Shelby glances up from the coffee table where she's triple-checking that she has her flight details printed and ready to go. "Can I please, please borrow your umbrella?" she asks. "Mine's fucked off somewhere and I'm running late and I need to get to the airport and-"
"The airport?" April interrupts with a frown.
"The airport," Shelby repeats exasperatedly. "It's Rachel's birthday tomorrow, remember? I'm-"
"Yeah, I remember," she says, her face contorting. "Um, Shelbs, have you checked the news?"
"What?"
"I… uh… I heard something about them grounding all flights earlier. Something about the storm, I think…" she trails off, glancing out of the window where the rain is running down in a thick sheen across the glass.
"What?" Shelby repeats. She stands and sends her friend a murderous glare. "You knew that earlier today and you didn't bother to tell me?"
"I was going to, Shelbs, I swear," April says quickly. "I was, but I thought you would have heard and I got distracted."
"Distracted doing what?" Shelby snaps, her frustration rising rapidly through every inch of her body.
Suddenly, both of their gazes are drawn to April's bedroom door when a tall, shirtless man shuffles out. He shoots Shelby a weak smile which she doesn't bother to return before turning to April.
"Uh… bathroom?"
"Right through there, sweetcheeks," she says, pointing to the door next to Shelby's bedroom. As soon as it shuts behind him, she turns back to face her friend with a guilty smile. "Um… Distracted doing that."
"Ugh!" Shelby groans, one hand coming up to rake through her hair. "What the hell am I going to do? I need to get there before tomorrow, April! I promised Rach I would be there."
"I know," she replies, taking a few tentative steps towards Shelby. "We'll figure it out, I promise." She pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed deeply in thought, before cocking her head. "How do you feel about trains?"
000
Shelby has always, and will always, maintain that hell must be a bigger, hotter version of Penn Station. The braindead crowds and aimlessly wandering tourists never fail to make her blood boil and, right now, she's sure anyone would be able to grill a full-course meal with the heat emanating out from her veins.
She cranes her neck, trying, in vain, to see whether she's any nearer to the front of the line. The ticket windows remain a far-off finish line, an oasis in the distance that seems more and more like a mirage with every passing minute. Two hours and she's sure she can't have moved forward more than fifteen feet, despite the line becoming increasingly compressed in tandem with the rising impatience of everyone around her.
She's worked a fair number of crappy customer service jobs over the years; she knows what it's like, but even she's beginning to doubt the mental capabilities of the people working the windows. How hard can it be to hit a few buttons, take someone's money and send them on their way with a ticket? Her instincts suggest it would be pretty easy; the time she's spent waiting for them to do so tell her otherwise.
Every so often, her hand twitches towards her cell phone as her brain whirs back and forth over whether or not she should call Hiram and Leroy. She'd wanted to wait until she could give them a constructive solution on how she's planning to make the five hundred mile journey in a night. Another forty-five minutes later, she concedes defeat.
With shaking hands - whether from frustration or anxiety, she's not sure - she slides it out her back pocket and hits 'call' on the Berry home phone.
"Hello?" Leroy's voice answers after just three rings. Shelby glances at her watch; she's most likely caught them right in the middle of their Friday night movie.
"Hi, it's me," she says, kicking her bag and jacket forward with her feet when the line shuffles forwards fractionally. "Don't say my name if Rachel's around." She hears a slight shuffling and then the clicking of a door.
"She fell asleep on the couch," he explains. "I think her plan was to try to wait up for you, but she's been so excited this week that she's barely slept."
Shelby feels her heart tearing in two right down the middle. She knows that Rachel's a kid and that she'll be having the usual pre-birthday flutters of excitement, but she's also aware of how her daughter has been latching on to any contact time she has with her even more intensely than normal. Her kid misses her. She promised she'd be there. She has to get there.
"Shelbs?" Leroy prompts. "Are you okay? I would have thought you'd be on the plane by now? Is your flight delayed?"
Shelby sighs deeply. "Try cancelled," she mutters.
"What?" Leroy asks. "Shelbs, I can barely hear you. Where are you, honey?"
"I'm at the fucking station," she says, raising her voice a little to cut across the deafening clamour of the packed space. The two men in front of her in line turn and send her a disparaging look; she glares right back. The time for niceties has long since passed.
"The station?"
"Yeah," she says, "the station. My flight out got cancelled because of this freak storm we're having." She lets out a humourless laugh. "A fucking tropical storm in May and people still want to pretend that climate change is a hoax."
"Oh, Shelbs," Leroy sighs. "Are you okay, honey?"
"I'm fine," she tells him. It's halfway true; there's nothing physically wrong. "I've been waiting here for a couple of hours trying to buy a ticket out. We looked online and everything said I had to come down and do it in person. I hadn't really accounted for every other person in the city also being given that information."
"So your aim is to get on a train tonight?"
"It's not an aim," she scoffs. "I'm doing it. But I obviously won't be arriving any time soon so I thought I should let you know. Cassie's already agreed to drive up to Toledo to get me in the morning - you don't even want to know what I've had to bribe her with to do that - so we'll be there in time for the party, but probably no earlier. I'm so sorry, Lee, I-"
"Don't apologise, sweetheart," Leroy cuts her off. "This isn't your fault and it sounds like you're doing everything you can to get here."
"Yeah," she replies. She's already spent the whole evening berating herself for not checking the weather, for not having a just-in-case back up plan sorted, for not making the decision to call in sick to rehearsal today and get on an earlier flight. "I am, I promise."
"I know," he assures her. "But, if for whatever reason you can't get here, Shelbs, we'll understand."
"No," she says firmly. "That's not happening. I'll get there."
"But if you can't then-"
"Then Rachel's whole birthday will be ruined and it will be entirely my fault." She shuffles forward again with the line as Leroy sighs heavily down the phone. "Look, I made a promise that I would be there, so I'm going to be there."
"Okay, honey," he says, clearly recognising that he's not going to change her mind on this. "Let us know if there's anything we can do to help and don't worry about money - we'll cover anything extra you have to pay-"
"You don't need t-"
"That's not up for discussion."
"Fine," she says. "Thank you."
"It's nothing. You just focus on doing whatever you can to get here and stay safe, okay?"
"Okay." The line moves forward again and, much to her surprise, she realises that she's somehow made it all the way to the front. "Lee, I have to go. I love you. I'll keep you updated."
"Please do and-"
"Next!" a burly woman at a window to Shelby's left calls out.
"Bye. Love you," she calls down the phone before scrambling to shove it back into her pocket. Quickly, she bends down to grab up her bag and jacket, fumbling a little in her haste.
"She said 'next'," an annoyed male voice snaps from behind her.
Taking a deep breath and trying to convince herself that hitting someone over the head with her bag won't be a conducive step in getting home to her daughter, she turns and flashes the man an irritated smile.
"Yeah, I heard. Thanks."
She shakes her head as she bundles herself and her belongings over to the open window. The universe is seriously, seriously testing her today.
"Hi," she greets the woman. "Can I please get a one-way ticket to Toledo?"
The woman sucks in a deep breath through her teeth and shakes her head. "For tonight?" she asks, tapping away on her keyboard.
"Yeah," Shelby says. A swell of anxiety floods her stomach. She's made it this far - she's waited in line for God knows how long. Things can't fall apart now. She's getting on that train.
"Well, you're not getting on a train tonight," the woman says when she looks up from her computer.
"What?"
"Yeah, it's all booked up. Sorry." The bored look on her face doesn't suggest that she is, in fact, sorry at all.
"It's a train!" Shelby says, trying and failing to temper her anger. She can feel it building up in her shaking hands and reddening face. "How does a train get 'all booked up'?"
"Safety regulations," the woman shrugs. "A lot of people have been coming in here tonight trying to get out to all sorts of places."
"Oh, really?" Shelby bites out.
"Look, ma'am," the woman continues, after taking another look at her screen. "There's only one more train leaving tonight and it's at full capacity. I can offer you something for tomorrow afternoon?"
Shelby feels her whole mouth go dry. This cannot be happening; she can't let Rachel down like this.
"I need to get there tonight," she says. Most of the anger has seeped out of her voice, replaced instead by frantic desperation. "Please."
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can offer you tonight. Do you want the ticket for tomorrow, or not?"
"No, I… I need…" Shelby shakes her head, desperately trying to order her thoughts. "Do you have kids?" she tries.
The woman sits back in her seat. "Nope."
"Okay. Well, I do," Shelby starts. She once read somewhere that telling a shooter personal details about yourself makes it less likely that they'll try to kill you. While this situation is different, her level of distress feels pretty similar. "I have a daughter, Rachel, and it's her ninth birthday tomorrow. I promised her I would be there for it."
"Unless 'Rachel' is booked on that train and is willing to give up her ticket for you, that doesn't change anything," the woman says.
Shelby's face crumples, her eyes swinging shut. Think, she tells herself. You have to think of something, of anything, else.
"Do you like musicals?" she blurts out.
The woman raises her eyebrows in a way that tells Shelby the question sounds just as stupid out loud as it had done in her head.
"Not really," she replies after a beat, "no."
Shelby grits her teeth. "Well, I'm in the Broadway revival of Les Mis, and if there's any way you can get me on that train, I'll make sure you get two, free tickets. Les Mis is a classic! Everyone likes it!"
"My ex-boyfriend broke up with me during the intermission of Les Mis."
You've got to be fucking kidding me?
"I'm sorry to hear that," Shelby nods sympathetically. "But, hey, you know, this might be a great opportunity to attach some exciting, new memories to…" she trails off pathetically when the woman shakes her head darkly once more.
"Look, lady," she sighs. "You're holding up the line. Options are a ticket for the afternoon train tomorrow, or nothing. Take your pick."
Shelby leans against the outside wall of the station, taking the opportunity to smack her head against the brick, hard, several times. Her bag is tucked between her feet so her body can protect is from the downpour, but her jacket is slung over the crook of her elbow. The chill on her damp skin is nothing compared to way her insides are searing from sheer frustration.
None of this is fair. Nothing about it at all seems right and yet there's absolutely nothing she can do about it. Her heart aches with each dull thud and yearns for her daughter, for all of the Berrys. This is why she should never have been complacent about living so far away from her family. Wave after wave of emotion hits her. Anger at this whole situation, sadness that this is the first of her daughter's birthdays she'll spend away from her, guilt over knowing that she'll ruin Rachel's whole birthday.
But nothing hits her like the anxiety. She knows that Hiram and Leroy will understand completely and she trusts that they'll try to convey that to their daughter. What she's most worried about, however, is Rachel's reaction. How long will she stay mad at her for? Will she even want to see her if she can get out there for Sunday? What happens if this is the thing that breaks Rachel's trust in her?
Their whole relationship sits on foundations that are somewhat precarious. Shelby leaves, but she always comes back. That's what they've all spent the past nine years trying to teach the young girl. And Shelby knows she's lucky: for all her hyperbole and dramatic tendencies, Rachel's always been incredibly mature and understanding about the whole situation. But this time feels different. She'd promised over and over again that she would be there; looking back now, it almost feels as though Rachel had some kind of premonition that things would not quite go to plan. Shelby's going to break her promise and she dreads to think what the consequences of that might be.
iMessage
Friday, 22nd May
9:32 p.m.
Hiram: Don't worry, Shelbs. We know you did what you could to get here. Go home, get some rest. We'll tell Rach when she wakes up tomorrow and then maybe we can all call you in the evening? We love you.
Shelby: I'm so sorry. Can I speak to her in the morning if she wants to? Please just tell her how much I love her and how sorry I am. I'm going to start looking at flights out tomorrow as soon I get home, so I can be there maybe tomorrow evening or Sunday morning if she still wants to see me? I love you too.
She sends the message through blurry vision and then resumes the attack of her head on the wall. Nothing's fair and everything hurts.
She's not sure how long she stands there for, letting the rain wash over her in a feeble attempt to feel some kind of relief, but she's drawn out of her stupor by the buzzing of her phone. Frowning when she sees April's face filling her screen, she answers it nervously.
"Hello?"
"Move over Cassandra July. Miss Shelby Corcoran, I am officially your new best friend forever."
"Let me get this straight," Shelby says, shaking her head in disbelief. "You want me to ride halfway across the country, overnight, in a truck with the step-father of your one night stand?"
"Several things wrong there," April replies tightly. "First of all, you're not going halfway across the country, Shelbs. Stop being so dramatic. Secondly, Emmet's not a 'one night stand'. He's more of a… one day stand. And, boy, let me tell you, what a day it's been!"
"April," she growls.
"Shelby," her friend counters right back. "Look, it sounds to me like you're not exactly swimming in options. Mike's leaving Yonkers at eleven and stopping in Columbus tomorrow morning. I know you're not exactly a spiritual person, Shelbs, but even you have to admit that this all seems kind of… I don't know… Fate-y?"
"Not a word."
"I don't care," April says. "Come on - I'll even send you an Uber to take you there as an apology for not telling you about the flights being grounded." She pauses. "You… uh… you said Hiram and Leroy agreed to pay for any travel expenses, right?"
"Right," Shelby confirms dryly. "Your generosity is astounding."
"Listen, I know how much being with Rachel on her birthday means to you - this is your chance to make sure that happens. So, are you in or out?"
Shelby lets out a deep sigh and pushes herself up off the wall. "Let me know when the Uber's here."
000
It feels way too much like the beginning of a Criminal Minds episode for Shelby's liking. The rain is unrelenting, falling like thick bands of luminescent orange in the glow of the gaudy streetlight. It splatters down all over the nearly vacant parking lot and has seeped so far into her clothes that Shelby's not sure she can even recall what it feels like to be dry.
She's finally put her jacket on and wraps it tightly around herself, though the whipping wind keeps finding routes through the fabric and straight to her core. She almost feels like she should be anchoring herself to something solid, lest she get too caught up in it and whirled into the air. If a tornado could lift Dorothy's whole house up, she's sure a premature tropical storm could handle her without too much difficulty.
Oh to be able to click her heels together and magically be at home. She's not sure she's ever been quite so desperate for a way out like that one.
Instead of ruby slippers, her homebound miracle takes the form of rather beat-up looking semi; her good witch isn't descending from a bubble, but has just walked out of the nearby convenience store holding two bottles of Gatorade and a tube of BBQ Pringles.
How the fuck is this real right now?
Summoning up her last dregs of emotional control, she manages to give him a weak smile as he approaches. He looks a little worse for wear; there's a suspicious red stain on his plaid shirt that she really hopes is ketchup and he's got a strong shadow of stubble around his chin. Despite all that, however, there's a warmth to his eyes as he smiles back at her.
"Shelby, right?" he asks, nodding at her. "I'm Mike."
"It's nice to meet you," Shelby forces out in her best 'please don't kill me and dump my body on the side of the road, but if you do at least make it quick' voice. It's only now that the thought occurs to her that it might just be slightly more traumatic for Rachel to find out that her mother was brutally murdered on her ninth birthday, rather than her simply being unable to attend her party.
Still, there's no turning back now.
Shelby follows as Mike heads back to the truck, having to take twice the steps to match his long strides. She hikes her bag up on her shoulder and forces herself to push any and all nerves away. It's for Rachel, she reminds herself over and over on a loop in her head. You're doing this for Rachel.
"I don't bite, you know?" Mike says once Shelby's lowered herself into her seat. Despite his soft tone, her body still leaps a few inches into the air. "Or, maybe I do," the man laughs to himself.
Shelby catches his eye across the console and can't help the small smile which fights its way onto her face. "Sorry," she says, shaking her head, "it's not you. It's… Well, it's been a long day."
"Sounds like it," he replies. Shelby watches in fascination as he pushes and pokes at the buttons on the dashboard; she's not even sure what she's doing. Not for the first time today, she's thinking about how she should really get her driver's license. It was one of those things that had been pushed to the wayside around the pregnancy, the adoption, and struggling to plant her feet down in a world that kept relentlessly spinning. "You're going to see your kid, right? That's what the girl on the phone told me. April?"
"Huh?" Shelby's eyes jolt away from the brightly coloured buttons. "April, yeah," she replies. "And, yeah it's my daughter's ninth birthday tomorrow. I was meant to fly home earlier this evening, but well… As you can probably imagine, that didn't go as intended."
"Right," he laughs.
He cranks the truck into gear and begins to edge out of the empty parking lot. The whole console vibrates a little as he does this, but Shelby tries to allow herself to relax into the feeling; she's known the man for less than five minutes, but she really doesn't get the impression that he wants to hurt her.
"Now don't take this the wrong way," he starts when they're out on the main street, "but you really don't look old enough to have a nine-year-old daughter."
"Sometimes I don't feel like it, either," Shelby says with a shrug. "I was young when I had her, but I don't know… I feel like she really put me on the right path, you know?"
"Sure," he replies. "So does she live with your parents in Ohio, or…?"
"God, no," she laughs. "No, not at all. She's adopted. She… uh…" Shelby glances over at him cautiously, trying to read him. For better or for worse, she decides to take her chances. "She was adopted by two guys from my town who, and I'm not even exaggerating, are the best men in the world."
"Oh?" Mike peers up at her, intrigued. "They let you be in her life, then?"
"Yeah," she says, a familiar, warm smile creeping up on her lips. "In fact, I should probably call them, let them know I'm on my way home."
The conversation goes about as well as one may expect. After several minutes of blurred explanations (it's hard to explain when she doesn't really understand herself how she got in this situation) and a quick interview with Mike over the speakerphone to convince Hiram that the man is not going to be featured on the next episode of 20/20, Shelby agrees to send them half-hourly updates on her location.
"I swear to God, Shelbs," Hiram sighs. "One of these days you're going to give me a heart attack."
"I love you too," she replies in her most saccharine tone.
"You better."
Once she's hung up, she settles down in the seat a little more, trying to get comfortable. She's going to be here for a while.
"Kind of felt like I was talking to your dad there," Mike comments after a few moments. "I see what you mean about them being good guys."
Shelby smirks fondly. "Right. I get that a lot, actually." She rolls her eyes. "They've definitely scared off enough potential boyfriends to get that role."
"I can imagine," he laughs.
When they're out on the interstate, with the rain drumming rhythmically down on the roof of the console and the passing cars sending intermittent beams of light through the windows, Shelby finds her eyes beginning to swing shut. She blinks heavily and forces herself to sit up; she can't be quite that stupid. For several, long minutes, she tries futilely to fight against the weight of her own neck as it continually lolls downwards.
"You can sleep, if you want to, you know?" Mike tells her after she jolts back to her senses for maybe the fifteenth time. "We've got a long drive ahead of us and I doubt you're going to be able to stay awake for the whole time."
"No, it's-" Shelby's cut off by a yawn forcing its way out. Mike sends her a knowing look. "Okay, maybe I should sleep."
"I'll take over texting Hiram - was it? - for you," he offers, nodding at Shelby's phone which is laying on top of the dashboard.
"Yeah," Shelby nods, her eyes already beginning to close again. "Yeah, that would be great thank you."
Mike wakes her up twice to make bathroom trips. On her return back to the truck on the second occasion, she finds a yogurt and banana waiting in her seat.
"Oh," she says, looking up at him gratefully, "you shouldn't have. It's fine - I'm not even that hungry. You can-"
Mike shakes his head and holds up her phone. "Hiram's orders."
The third time he gently shakes her shoulder, she blinks groggily and is vaguely aware of the fact that they're still moving. Her eyes sting when the bright daylight overwhelms them too suddenly and she grunts softly, immediately reaching a hand back to rub out the dull ache in the back of her neck.
"Morning," Mike greets her, holding out a bottle of water which she accepts with a grateful nod. "We're about ten minutes out of Columbus."
"Already?" Shelby asks. She pours some of the water into her mouth and swills it around, trying to remove the pungent, stale taste lingering there. "What time is it?"
"It's almost eleven," he replies. He lets out a laugh when her face contorts in disbelief. "Yeah, time flies when you sleep for the whole journey."
"I'm sorry," she says sheepishly. "I'm such crap company."
"Crap company is better that no company at all."
"Do you really think that?" she asks, pushing herself forwards so that she can stretch out her back. This, too, wishes her good morning with a resounding crack.
"No, I guess not," Mike smirks. "Still, you weren't crap, exactly. You were just…"
"Unconscious?"
"Yeah, that's right." Eyes still on the road ahead, he takes her phone off the dashboard and hands it over to her. "But your friend Cassie called about half an hour ago - said she wasn't going to put up with that in her car so I thought I better wake you up."
"Thanks," Shelby says. She flicks through her notifications, finding nothing of particular importance, and opens her Messages app to update Hiram. Soon, she finds she needn't bother.
iMessage
Saturday, 23rd May
10:43 a.m.
Shelby: About 30 mins out of columbus. still asleep. will wake her up soon.
Hiram: Perfect- thank you for letting me know. And thank you for taking such good care of our girl.
Shelby: no problem. shes great.
Shelby's heart completes a little flutter, a large smile blossoming across her face, in sheer gratitude. It's something that's become a lot easier over the past few years, but she really does actively work everyday to remind herself that the world is full of good people. It's just about coming across them at the right time.
When Mike pulls into the rest stop he and Cassie had agreed upon, Shelby collects up her belongings, biting down on her lip and trying to figure out how to even go about beginning to thank the man.
"All set?"
"Yeah," she nods. "I… I can't quite… I don't think you know how much this means to me. My daughter, Rachel, she… I promised her I would be there today, and, if it weren't for you, I would have broken that promise. Thank you."
"It's nothing," he shrugs. "I was passing through anyway."
"No," Shelby says, shaking her head. Suddenly, she finds herself launching her body across the console and wrapping her arms arms tightly around him. She's never been much of a hugger, but this is the only way she can think to impress her gratitude upon him. "Thank you so much. I don't know how I can ever repay you… I-I'll never forget this."
Mike gradually relaxes into the embrace, bringing up one arm to pat her back fondly. "It's okay. Just pay it forward when you can, I guess."
"Right." Shelby nods. Pay it forward when you can.
Across the parking lot, a horn blares. At the same time, Shelby's phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Wrap it up, Corcoran. We don't have all day.
"Enjoy the party," Mike says, giving her a wave. "And tell Rachel I say happy birthday."
"I will," Shelby laughs before smiling genuinely at him again. "Thank you."
"Jesus," Cassie groans when Shelby climbs into her passenger seat. "You look like absolute crap." She sniffs the air cautiously before shuddering and pinching her nose. "You smell like absolute crap."
"Always a pleasure to see you too, Cass."
The blonde recoils when Shelby leans across to kiss her cheek and immediately wipes at the spot with her sleeve.
"There's gum and deodorant in the glove compartment," she says pointedly. "Might be nicer for everyone if you think about using them."
"You always take such good care of me," Shelby hums sweetly.
Cassie simply rolls her eyes. "Let's go. This place is giving me the creeps."
000
The grandfather clock in the Berrys' living room chimes three o'clock. Though it's barely audible over the roaring music filling the entire first story of the house, Rachel hears it. Her eyes shoot up and she watches the minute-hand click into place with a sigh. Her party had started three hours ago now; they only have another thirty minutes before her friends' parents will be arriving to collect them all. She glances out of the window and can't help the pout that forms on her face.
Stupid rain!
She was supposed to be having a huuuuuge disco party in her backyard, complete with a DJ booth, a real dance floor and big flashing lights. She'd been teaching everyone the choreography for the dances she wanted to do during recess for weeks now. And the stupid rain has ruined it all. The guy hiring out the equipment (and acting as DJ) had called her daddy last night to say that he couldn't set all the equipment up with the rain being this bad. So, with a heavy heart and lots of pouting, Rachel had reluctantly agreed that they could host the party indoors.
It's not even that which is really bothering her. Jesse (her new friend from her ballet class) has been excellent at helping her keep everyone on track with their dancing and, with the furniture all pushed to the sides and the large rug rolled up, the living room floor is a satisfactory makeshift dance floor. All in all, she would say she's pretty pleased with how her party has played out. There's really just one thing missing.
Her mom still isn't here.
The initial pang of disappointment she'd felt earlier when she woke up and learned that her mom wasn't already sleeping in her bed in the next room had been quelled by her dads' assurance that she was on her way and doing everything she could to make sure she was there for the party. Then, just as all of Rachel's guests were arriving, her dad had received a phone call. The girl, who had been in the middle of showing everyone exactly where to leave their shoes and explaining the contents of the snack table, felt her ears prick up when she heard the name 'Shelbs' leave her dad's mouth.
He'd called her over a couple of minutes later to gently explain that her mom and Aunt Cass were stuck in traffic, and weren't sure when they would be arriving. Rachel had glared out of the window at the rain again then, cursing it for ruining her birthday.
"Rachel?"
She tears her gaze away from the clock at the sound of her name and looks up to see Jesse standing in front of her with an outstretched hand.
"Dance with me?" he asks, shooting her a broad smile. "We're clearly the best here - it's up to us to show everyone else how it's done."
Rachel lets her eyes survey the room. Some of her friends from school are twirling each other around without any respect for the beat of the song. Her friends from dance classes are faring only marginally better. She briefly wonders whether she should record this for her teachers so they'll know what to work on with them next week. The adults (her dads and some of their friends) are standing near the door to the kitchen. Her daddy has his arms around her dad's waist and they're both slowly step-touching. Rachel scrunches up her nose; the only good thing she can really say about that is that they're at least synchronised in time.
Yet again, she wishes that her mom would hurry up and get here. She's the only one who can really dance as well as Rachel.
"Rach?" Jesse says, waving his hand in front of her face until she looks up. "Ready to dance?"
With a grin, she nods and takes his hand into hers. Her mom may not be here yet, but that doesn't mean she should deprive everyone of a good show.
Fifteen minutes later, her and Jesse finish (yet another) well improvised routine to a light smattering of applause. She stays by his side, allowing him to guide her into a deep bow, until she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Star?" her daddy says. "Can I borrow you for a minute?"
She nods and follows him to the corner of the room where he squats to meet her at eye-level.
"Are you having fun, honey?" he asks and brushes some of slightly sweaty hair from the side of her face. She nods eagerly, still catching her breath from that last number. "Good," he smiles. "We're going to do your birthday cake in a minute, okay? So why don't we turn the music down for a little bit?"
Rachel's face falls. "No, Daddy!" she protests quickly. "You said we could wait until Mom and Aunt Cass get here to do the cake!"
He sighs sadly. "I know I did, Star, but your friends will be getting collected soon and we need to make sure we can fit it in."
"B-but," Rachel sucks in a shaky breath as her bottom lip begins to tremble. "But Mom's not here yet."
"I know," he says again, matching her sad expression. "And even though she's coming as fast as she can, she might not be here for a while. So we need to do it now so that all your friends can sing to you and have some cake to take home with them, okay?"
"Okay," she agrees sadly.
"Tell you what," her daddy says, "I'll run to the store once everyone's gone and we'll get you another cake. Then later tonight Mom, Dad and I can sing to you again, yeah?"
Rachel wants to say that that won't work because it just won't be the same. Every year, she always looks forwards to the looks on her friends' faces when they hear her mom sing happy birthday to her. But now she looks at the almost pleading expression on her daddy's face, and decides not to throw a fit over this.
She's nine now. She has to be grown up.
"Yeah," she says, using her best acting skills. "That will be good, Daddy."
Rachel spends the entirety of the next five minutes staring out of the window, crossing all of her fingers and wishing on every gold star there ever was that she'll see her aunt's car pull into the driveway. She barely listens to Jesse, who's sitting next to her and talking non-stop about Broadway. It only makes the sick feeling in her stomach hurt more; they were meant to be talking about Broadway together to her mom. She was going to answer all of their questions.
Before she knows it, she's been sat down on the couch, the lights are out, and there's a blurry light coming towards her. She knows it wouldn't be so blurry if there weren't tears beginning to sting at her eyes. As the song progresses and her dad holds the cake up in front of her, she forces them away. Nobody wants to see her crying at her own party.
"Make a wish, Star," her dad whispers when the song ends.
She sucks in a heavy breath and definitely doesn't have to think twice about the wish she wants to make.
"Rachel Barbra Berry, you better not blow out those candles!"
In her gasp of surprise, a couple of the flames flicker dangerously, but all nine candles remain alight. She looks up towards the door of the living room and immediately a huge grin breaks out across her face.
"Mom!"
She hardly notices her dad having to haul the cake out of her path as she slips down from the couch and sprints across the room. Immediately, she leaps up into her mother's arms and feels herself being lifted up off the floor. Her legs wrap themselves snugly around the woman's waist.
Her mom rocks her from side-to-side for a long moment, both of them squeezing the other as tightly as they can.
"Well, hello there, Star," her mom whispers in her ear before planting a kiss on her cheek.
If possible, Rachel squeezes even tighter, nestling in close and breathing in her mom's scent. She doesn't smell how she normally does. Usually, her mom smells so flowery - like perfume and shampoo and sometimes like baking. Now, she smells like Rachel's leotards after a long dance class, but with some kind of not-so nice sweetness over the top. The girl doesn't really mind, though. Her mom's here; that's all that matters.
"Mommy," she breathes, pulling back a little so she can look up at her mother's smiling face. "You're really here."
"I'm really here," her mom agrees. Like her dads always do, she reaches up to tap Rachel's nose. "Boop. I missed you, Star."
"I missed you too," Rachel nods vigorously. "Soooooo much."
"'Soooooo much'? That sounds like a lot."
"It is, Mom."
"Oh, yeah," a voice says from next to them, "and I'm here too, by the way."
Rachel looks over at the blonde woman, still grinning broadly. "Aunt Cass!" She begins to squirm to be put down. Halfway through this motion, however, she stops and looks back up at her mom. "Will you hold me again later?" she whispers, keeping her tone low so that nobody else will hear.
"For as long as you want, baby," her mom whispers back.
As Rachel lands on the floor and moves to hug her aunt, she thinks that she would quite like her mom to hold her forever and ever.
"Are you sure you're nine, squirt?" Aunt Cassie asks, frowning down at her. "You don't look big enough."
Rachel frowns right back at her. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm just short!"
"Whatever you say…"
"Leave her alone, Cassandra," her mom says, pulling her back into her side. "Rachel's perfectly formed."
Rachel nods firmly into her mom's sweatshirt. Perfectly formed - that sounds about right. She squeezes tightly once more, before remembering that she's doing this in front of all her party guests. Her stomach clenches for a second; she hadn't invited any of the meaner kids from school, but she's not always sure who she can trust.
Nevertheless, she straightens herself up slightly and grabs her mom's hand. The two of them can perform for any audience, it's just what they do, and Rachel knows it's time to put that attribute to work.
"If I could have your attention please," she announces to the room, taking a deep breath and waiting until they're all looking at her before she continues, "For those of you who don't know, this is my mom. I know that your parents will be here soon, but because it's my birthday, I'd really like it if you could all sing for me again. My mom is a Broadway actress and so I know some of you," she smiles at Jesse, "would really like to hear her sing. For those of you who found it hard to stay on key last time, just follow my mom - she knows what she's doing."
She looks up when she hears laughing and sees all three of her parents attempting to stifle their chuckles.
"What?" she asks, pouting.
"Nothing, Rach," her mom assures her quickly, squeezing her hand. She then turns to the two men. "Well, you heard the woman, Hiram. Time for cake round two."
000
"So you just practice with a piano at first? And then they add the rest of the orchestra later?"
"Yeah, honey. We wouldn't all fit in the room if everyone was there with their instruments. You don't want me to get squished, do you?"
Rachel shakes her head quickly, her dark hair tickling the underside of Shelby's chin. They're both leaning up against the headboard of Shelby's bed. Like always, Rachel had been quick to ask her mother whether they could sleep together in there, and it wasn't like Shelby had needed much persuasion.
She pulls her little girl closer into her body, relishing in her warmth and the softness of her pink pajamas. Rachel's been rattling off various Broadway questions for the last hour that they've been lying in bed. Hanging off her every word and gazing up at her like the sun shines out from her face, Shelby can't say she minds at all.
One hug from Rachel and she knew that everything had been worth it. It would always be worth it. She'd fight off any number of opponents to grab the last cab in the pouring rain, stand in train stations for days without food or water, and ride in any number of unfamiliar trucks just to make it home to her daughter.
"You know what that means then, Mom?" Rachel says, grinning at her.
"What?"
"That you need smaller actors who can fit in tiny spaces!"
"Oh, yeah?" Shelby asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes!" Rachel nods. "For example, I am a small actor who would be perfect for the role of young Cosette." Shelby rolls her eyes. Here we go… "We've got it all worked out, Mom! Next year, you'll be playing Fantine full-time, and Jesse will play Gavroche and I'll be young Cosette. It's going to be ah-may-zing!"
Shelby shakes her head slightly as she gazes down at her girl. Still, she really hopes that Rachel never loses that spark; her kid is the most special one in the whole world.
"That sounds great, honey," she placates, rubbing her hand up and down Rachel's back.
The girl is silent for a moment. She tucks her head into the crook of Shelby's neck and interlocks their fingers, watching as she moves their joined hands through the air.
"I can't believe you're here," she finally whispers.
"Why?" Shelby smiles. "I said I would be here and I am."
If only it had been that easy.
Rachel shifts to look up into her eyes. "I know, but Daddy said that your plane got cancelled because there was a big storm, and then you couldn't get on the train. But you're here."
"I know," Shelby says, leaning down to kiss her nose. "It's because I promised you I would be, Star, and I never, ever go back on a promise."
"Never ever?" the girl asks, eyes wide.
"Never ever," Shelby tells her. She reaches her hands around Rachel's waist and begins to tickle her sides. "Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ev-"
"Mommy!" she groans, reaching up to cover her mother's mouth with her hand. "Stop."
Shelby laughs as she easily pries the small hand away from her face, kissing the girl's knuckles on the way down. "I thought I was cool, Rach," she pouts. "Am I not cool anymore?"
"Not when you do that." Rachel shoots her a small glare as she twists her pajama top back into place. "So, how did you get here?
The woman matches her quizzical expression. Now that's a long story. "Well," she starts, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I grew wings and I flew all the way over here to be with you.
"Mom!" Rachel whines, sitting up to face her. "I'm not a baby - I know you can't grow wings."
"Oh yeah? Well how else did I get here?" When Rachel simply shrugs, Shelby nods firmly. "See! You don't know because I grew wings and I flew. Now," she lowers her voice to a whisper, "this is supposed to be a secret, but I think I can trust you not to tell anyone else, right, Rach?"
"Right."
"Okay," Shelby says, levelling her gaze with the girl. "So when Mommies get separated from their babies on their birthdays, they get special superpowers that means they can grow wings so that they can always find their way back to them."
Rachel frowns. "Hmmm. I don't believe you, but I love you."
"Yeah?" Shelby asks. "Well I love you the very most."
"Mom! You skipped 'more'!" the girl pouts. "Then I'm supposed to be most!"
"Sorry, kid. Sometimes life's not fair." Rachel crosses her arms petulantly, but Shelby can tell she's fighting back a smile. She gently pulls the girl back onto her chest and kisses the top of her head. "But you know what you can count on, Rach? That no matter how far away I go, or how long I'm away for, I will always, always come back to you, my love. Sometimes it might take me a little longer than expected, or be a little harder, but you and me? We'll always find our way back to each other."
"You promise?"
"Yeah, Star, I promise."
"Okay good," Rachel says, nestling further into her chest. "So you're saying that some things, some people, are always meant to find their way to the right spot?"
"That's exactly right, my love," Shelby says. "And my right spot is always going to be here with you."
"Yeah, me too," Rachel replies. She pauses as she fiddles with the edge of her mom's shirt. "Buuuuut, I think my other right spot might be playing young Cosette on Broadway. Don't ya think, Mom?"
Thank you for reading- I hope you enjoyed! Stay safe everyone. Remember- Shelby Corcoran says wearing a mask is cool.
xo