Previously…
– Travis planned to propose to Rosie, but their romantic night was interrupted when she received a call that the baby she’d found outside the KBPD had been brought to the hospital after her foster parents were arrested.
– A teenage Sophie returned home from summer camp and started high school at King’s Bay Academy.
– Brent, Molly, and their twins all grieved the baby that they believe died soon after birth.

The steady patter of rain against the roof and windows provides a soothing, if not completely idyllic, backdrop for Brent Taylor as he pours a steaming cup of coffee from the pot on his kitchen counter. He takes the full mug out to the living room, where his six-foot-tall artificial Christmas tree stands, its branches alight with tiny, multicolored bulbs and its base still surrounded by presents wrapped in red, green, and silver paper. He examines the scene — one befitting of any Christmas morning — and lets out a sigh of regret and exhaustion. Although he has tried his best to make this Christmas feel like any other, at least for his sons, he cannot shake the feeling, one that has haunted him for months, that everything is simply off right now.

The doleful chime of the doorbell pulls him from his thoughts. Coffee in hand, he moves through the living room and opens the door to find his niece standing there, clutching the handle of an oversized shopping bag with both hands.

“Merry Christmas! Come on in,” Brent says cheerily as he steps aside and lets Elly Vanderbilt into the house. She sets down the bag and brushes some rain off her mustard-toned, wool coat before giving him a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Brent. What should I do with these?” She gestures to the bag of presents at her feet.

“Put ’em under the tree with the rest,” he says.

“You guys haven’t even done presents yet?”

Brent shakes his head. “That would require Caleb waking up.”

She takes the bag over to the tree and crouches down to unload presents as she says, “Might as well let him sleep if he needs it, right?”

“Right. Frankly, the past few months, that kid’ll do whatever it takes to spend as little time with us as possible.”

“It’s that age,” Elly says as she places the last of the presents under the tree. “Take it from someone who ran away from home as a teenager.”

“That was a pretty extreme circumstance,” Brent replies, recalling how surprised he was to see the girl he knew then only as Danielle’s goddaughter suddenly in King’s Bay.

She stands up. “You guys have been through a pretty ‘extreme circumstance’ of your own this year.”

Brent blows on his coffee contemplatively. “You’re right. But I’m not sure Caleb avoiding his family is going to help anyone much.”

“He feels guilty for fighting with his mom when she was already having a high-risk pregnancy. He probably blames himself for what happened.”

“I’m sure he does… but if we never address it, I don’t know how we move on.”

“I wish that were something I could get you on Amazon,” she says.

“Me, too.” He takes a sip of coffee before adding, “I just don’t know where we go from here, as a family.”

“I was wondering about that.”

“About what?”

“Your family. It sounded like you and Molly were getting pretty close again while she was pregnant,” Elly says. “At least, that’s what my mom said.”

“My sister has been rooting for us to get back together for a long time,” Brent says, “but I’m not sure it’s in the cards now. For a while I thought…” He trails off and then waves the thought away with a flick of his hand. “Never mind.”

“No, Uncle Brent, you can talk to me,” she tells him. “I know you guys are still grieving… but do you think there’s still a chance for you and Molly to give things another shot?”

The elevator dings and its doors part. Travis Fisher hurries out and scans the area; the festive wreath hanging on the nurses’ station desk and the poinsettias placed throughout the space barely register for him. He spots his girlfriend in the waiting area, sitting in a chair and scrolling through something on her phone, and rushes toward her.

“Have you been here all night?” he asks.

Rosie Jimenez stands to greet him. He can see her weariness in the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“I went home for a few hours to shower and change,” she says. “But mostly, yeah.”

“You’ve basically been here every minute you aren’t at work for days and days,” he says with concern. 

“I just feel like I owe it to this baby to be here for her. No one else is.” She casts a sideways glance at the doors that lead back to the patient rooms, as if awaiting something.

Travis offers a sympathetic look. “How’s she doing?”

“One of the nurses — a friend of your mom‘s — told me that her fever broke. And they’re sure that the bruises are only bruises. Nothing is broken or anything.”

“I don’t get how someone who’s supposed to be a foster parent could treat a kid like that,” Travis says. “Let alone a baby.”

“I know. Their job is to take care of these kids.” Rosie shakes her head in disgust. Her dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail, wags behind her. “I guess they just saw the kids they were looking after as… I don’t know, a way to get a check from the government. It’s so gross.”

Her attention again strays to those swinging doors. Travis takes one of her hands in his.

“Do you not want to come to Christmas dinner?” he asks. “We just have to let your mom know–“

“No, I will. I’m just waiting for the social worker to come out and tell me what happens next.”

Travis looks her square in the eyes, and, after a brief moment, she feels the intensity of his gaze and meets it.

“I love you. You know that. I hope,” he says. “And one of the things I love most about you is how you commit yourself to your job and the people you’re supposed to be helping.”

“This baby has no one, Travis.”

“I know. I know. I just want you to be prepared for the reality that you can’t fix all of this for her. I know that you’ll do everything in your power to help her–“

“I will.”

“–but there might be a limit to that,” he says, “and that isn’t something you should blame yourself for.”

Rosie waits a beat and then says, “That isn’t good enough.”

His mind races, wondering how else to approach this, but they are interrupted by the emergence of the social worker, Ms. Larridee, through those same doors.

Rosie practically shouts across the waiting area, “Is there any news? How is she?”

The social worker waits until she is nearer to them to respond. “She’s doing well. The doctors are ready to release her.”

“And then what happens?” Rosie asks. Travis feels her hand tensing in his own.

“We’ll begin the process to have her adopted,” Ms. Larridee says. “Ideally, we can find a family looking to foster with an eye toward adoption–“

“What about us?”

Travis’s head swivels toward Rosie in surprise. “What?”

“What if we foster her?” Rosie says. “Let us take her home and keep her safe.”

—–

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jason Fisher asks as he holds an umbrella over himself and his daughter. Raindrops splatter against it, and all around them, as they make their way over the wet lawn.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” Sophie Fisher replies. She walks beside him, holding a bouquet of red and white roses.

Jason hesitates, hearing their footsteps squish against the soggy ground, before saying, “Visiting a cemetery on Christmas Day is a little heavy, that’s all.”

Sophie shrugs. “It’s been too long since we came to see her.”

They finish the trek in silence, weaving through rows of gravestones, each darkened with dampness, until they come to Courtney’s resting place.

“I miss her so much,” Jason says.

Sophie offers him a comforting smile and then places the flowers at the base of the headstone.

“I wish I could meet her,” she says.

Jason wraps an arm around the teenager and pulls her underneath the umbrella. 

“You have met her,” he says. “Even if you don’t remember it… you guys spent a lot of time together. She loved you, Soph. God, did she love you.”

Sophie pushes a strand of her own raven-colored hair — so much like Courtney’s, Jason thinks, as he so often does — and stares at the grave.

“Do you think she’d like me?” she asks.

“What? Of course she would. She loved you. She still does, even if she’s not physically here.”

“I know. Parents have to love their kids. But… do you think she’d like me?”

“What’s not to like? You’re an amazing kid.”

Sophie sighs loudly. “I really wish I could hear Mom tell me that.”

“Well…”

“Don’t tell me I can hear her in the wind or whatever. It’s not the same.”

“Okay. Fair. But she’d be really proud of you — your mom was just about as outspoken and strong-headed as you are. I see so much of her in you. It’s wild sometimes.”

“Really?” she asks, brightening.

“You have no idea.”

They stand in silence for a long moment, simply watching Courtney’s grave and appreciating each other’s presence.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Sophie says.

Jason breathes in deeply through his nose, trying to keep himself from being overcome by emotion. It all washes over him at once: Courtney as a teenager, smirking at him… Courtney on the ice, so self-assured and powerful… Courtney in the hospital, red-faced and sweaty, giving birth to their daughter… and Courtney on their wedding day, so beautiful that the mere memory takes his breath away.

He yanks himself out of his thoughts before he can think too much about the rest of their wedding night.

“Merry Christmas, Court,” he says, his throat now tight. “We miss you so much.”

—–

Elly’s penetrating stare causes Brent to break eye contact and look down into his mug of coffee.

“I’ll take that classic avoidance technique as a yes,” she comments.

“You really do operate like a lawyer now, you know that?” Brent says.

Before Elly can respond, footsteps come rumbling down the stairs, and Christian Taylor arrives in the living room.

“You’re here!” he calls to Elly before rushing over to hug his cousin by the Christmas tree.

“I told you I was coming by with presents before I go to my dad and Kathleen’s,” she says. “Merry Christmas, Christian.”

“Merry Christmas.” He gives her a tight squeeze, feeling the residual raindrops on her coat before he takes a step back. “It’s raining out? Ugh.”

“Not exactly a white Christmas,” Brent says.

“More like a wet Christmas.” A grin breaks across Christian’s face. “A wet-ass Christmas. A WAC!”

Elly snickers.

“Is that that song?” Brent asks, but he takes the cousins’ giggling as all the answer he needs before moving on. “Is your brother still sleeping?”

“I think so,” Christian says. “Can we please open presents? I’m dying.”

“Go see if you can wake him up.”

“Okay!” The lanky teenager bolts from the room and back up the stairs.

“He’d better not blame me if Caleb bites his head off,” Brent says wearily. 

Elly slips out of her coat as she tells her uncle, “And now that we have a minute… have you told Molly how you feel?”

“What? Elly, I– no, I–” His stammering sputters out, and he stands there with his arms at his sides.

“You owe it to her to be honest.”

“I owe it to her not to put any pressure on her,” Brent says. “Whatever I’m feeling, she has to be feeling ten times over.”

Elly nods with understanding. “You don’t have to demand anything of her. But imagine if she’s sitting there, dealing with this huge loss and thinking you don’t reciprocate the feelings she has.”

“I don’t know that she has those feelings.”

“You don’t know because you haven’t asked.” Elly flips her red hair over her left shoulder. “It sounds like the two of you could make each other’s Christmases a lot better, if someone would just speak up.”

Brent chews his lower lip for a moment. “And what if she doesn’t feel that way?”

“At least then you’ve said your part, and you know for sure. But you can’t live in limbo like this forever. Neither of you can.”

“Who gave you the right to be so smart?”

“Stanford Law,” she says with a grin. “Now can I get some of that coffee, too? Some of us don’t get to sleep in the way my cousin does.”

He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Come with me. And if those two aren’t back down here by the time we’re back, I give you permission to open your present.”

—–

In the hospital’s waiting area, Ms. Larridee gawks at Rosie with surprise.

“Officer Jimenez,” she says slowly, “do you…”

“I’m serious,” Rosie says, not missing a beat. “I’m a police officer, so some of the background vetting is already done. And we’re–” She holds up Travis’s hand. “We’re about to get engaged.”

Travis uses every ounce of willpower within him not to do a spit-take. 

“Travis is a chef at a restaurant his family owns, so his hours are flexible,” Rosie continues, “and we both have family nearby. I could even move in with my mother so she’s always there as backup.”

The social worker’s mouth flaps open and then closed without producing actual words.

“Please, consider it as a serious option,” Rosie says. “We’re both upstanding citizens, we’re employed, we have family support…”

Ms. Larridee seems poised to respond when her cell phone, clutched in her hand, lights up. She glances at the screen and then holds up an index finger.

“I need to take this,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

As she steps to the side to take the call, Travis turns toward Rosie.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks before she can get a word out. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes! Travis, I…” The desperation and determination are apparent in the way her face contorts. “I took an oath. And as fucked-up as so much about the police can be — what’s at the core of it is protecting people. There’s no one more helpless than a baby, especially a baby in a situation like this. So I…”

Travis feels a swell of emotion just watching her speak.

“I get it,” he says. “And what did you mean about us being about to get engaged?”

Rosie shoots him a grin. “Come on. You were totally going to propose the other night before I got the call about the foster parents being arrested, weren’t you?”

His cheeks burn hot. “What? I– what are you–“

“You were being weird. I told you!” she says with a laugh. “All that stuff about looking at the moon, and Landon just happening to be there acting like he was on some secret mission. It was cute!”

“How did you piece that together?!”

“I’m a cop! I’d be pretty shitty at my job if I couldn’t put together puzzle pieces that were about the size of Montana.”

He groans. “I’m not saying anything.”

“You don’t have to.” She leans in and plants a kiss on his lips. “For the record, I would’ve said yes.”

Travis’s mouth hangs open, and again he finds himself scrambling for a response. But he sees Ms. Larridee approaching and does his best to calm his thudding heart and shaking hands — or at least hide them.

“Ms. Larridee, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that,” Rosie says, “but I hope you’ll consider us as foster parents. Nothing would make me feel more accomplished as both an officer of the law and as a human being as giving that baby a safe, happy home would.”

The social worker nods. “I understand that. And I appreciate you stepping forward.”

“But…” Travis says, able to sense that there is more coming. He looks over at Rosie and can see the nervous anticipation on her face.

“But if you’re serious about this — and it seems to me that you are — we’ll need to take care of some paperwork.”

Rosie’s eyes flare wide. “Really?”

“Really,” Ms. Larridee says. “Let me go make a few calls.”

“We’ll wait here,” Travis tells her as she once again moves off.

Travis and Rosie lock eyes, though neither speaks for a long moment.

“Are we really doing this?” he asks.

“I think so.” She draws in a deep breath and then slowly releases it. “Thank you, Travis. This feels like something I have to do.”

“I get it. And I’m here with you, however you need me,” he says as he pulls her into an embrace. “Merry Christmas.”

Rosie gives him another kiss and then rests her head against his. “Merry Christmas, Travis.”

END OF EPISODE 1057

Are Rosie and Travis ready to take this leap?
Should Brent take Elly’s advice about Molly?
What would Courtney think of her daughter today?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below!

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