I have not heard from him since. The support payments started last month. Emma and I are still in the temporary housing but the caseworker thinks we might get a permanent spot by spring. Some nights I still think about that truck ride and how fast they decided I was someone else’s problem.

Other nights I just hold Emma and wonder what Derek told Amber when he got home from the reception.

The blankets smelled like the laundry soap we used back in the apartment, that cheap lavender kind Derek always complained about. Emma’s cheek stayed warm against my neck the whole ride even though my hands were numb from holding her so tight. His mother looked back once from the front seat and said, “They have a bed for you.” His father kept both hands on the wheel and added, “Derek would want this for the baby.” I did not answer either of them because my throat had gone dry from the cold air coming through the vents.

That ride keeps coming back on the nights when the temporary housing feels too small. I wonder if Derek showed Amber the picture of the letter or if he just turned his phone off after the reception. The commanding officer’s envelope sits in my drawer now with the corner bent from how many times I checked the return address. The support payments started the first of last month like the letter said they would. The caseworker called about a permanent apartment with two bedrooms and a little patch of grass out back. Emma took her first steps there last week, grabbing at the couch edge and laughing like nothing bad had ever happened to us.

He never answered the message I sent from the church parking lot.The checks come every month like the letter promised.

Emma took her first steps last week. I keep wondering if he ever opened that picture again or if he just deleted it.