Stainless

She waited for him across from the opera house, wearing a cloak borrowed from a prostitute and the remains of her shoes tied around her feet. The falling snow made the illuminated building into something from a fairy tale. As a child, she'd liked fairy tales. Last summer, she'd thought she was in one. Even now, she hoped, although her feet stung with the cold. This was her last chance, and in a fairy tale, she would certainly succeed in the end.

The baby shifted in her arms, and she whispered nonsense without looking down. It did no good to look down. She knew what she was here for, knew the baby was as hungry as she was. She knew the baby's perfect face too well. Looking down hurt. Without him, there was nothing she could do. And when he appeared from within the opera house, tall, immaculately groomed, laughing with his gentlemen friends, she stumbled across the street and caught his sleeve.

He looked down at her, the laughter in his eyes vanishing. But instead of recognition, there was only mild disgust. "Dear child, do not grab at me."

She wasn't the girl he'd once known, not after the baby and everything else that had followed. Her carefully planned words fled. "William, William, it's me, Julia. Don't you know me at all? After everything? I've waited and waited-"

Realization flickered in his eyes, but all he said was, "You have the wrong man." He glanced at his companions and repeated, "You certainly have the wrong man."

Julia held the baby out toward him. "I do not! Look at her! She has your face, William. She is your child, yes she is, and I was a good girl before you promised-"

He knocked her aside as he stepped away. "She's mad," he announced loudly. "Or worse. There's some who might have fallen for your game, little miss. I'm sure others have before. But not I. Not I."

She lunged after him and fell into the snow, twisting her body to protect the baby. He turned and strode abruptly away. When his companions followed him, a footman lifted Julia to her feet and gave her a shove down the street. "Away with you, before you get into trouble you can't walk away from, lass."

She trudged a few steps, her thoughts as numb as her feet. The women who had sheltered her had said that if she confronted him with the baby, she could at least get some money. They were expecting her to return with money, to pay for what they'd given her. If she didn't bring back money, she'd have to pay in other ways.

The baby squirmed in her arms, and she looked down at the little one's face. Dark hair, like his, and bright blue eyes and a cleft in her chin just like his. That he could deny his lover she almost understood, but his own innocent child! At least her own father had waited until her innocence had been ruined before he'd sent her away.

She was so cold. Her cheeks felt numb and her hands were thick and clumsy. She couldn't go back home, or return to the kind women who'd advised her. And what was she to do with the child? She couldn't feed her, couldn't love her, couldn't even warm her as she cried.

She stumbled again, and fell again, then realized she was on a doorstep. It would have to do. She patted down the loose snow, making a nest. A snowflake caught in her eyelash and blurred her vision, and the light's reflection made the white nest glow like a halo. Sighing, she kissed her fingers and touched them to the snow, then laid her bundled baby within.

She didn't look back as she stumbled away. She thought, over and over like a prayer, that this way her baby could have any future, be anybody's child. But she kept seeing the halo and she knew the truth: that she was sending her baby back to God. Maybe, divorced from her, the child could find its way home. Maybe it wouldn't be dragged down with her.

Something caught her foot and she fell a third time into the snow. This time, she couldn't push herself to her feet again. What remained of her strength dissipated, pulled away by the street. There was nothing ahead of her and only ashes behind her.