More than anything

There's something bittersweet about the little arms wrapping around her, the kiss to her cheek. It's what she wished for, and wanted, and worked for -- everything that happened in the Woods (the first time, anyway) was so she could have moments like this one. She's still not quite sure how to feel about getting them here, from a child who isn't her own.

She misses her son with a sudden ferocity. She misses the way he was simply and unquestionably hers.

But she smiles, because it's a sweet gesture, and because she's already worried the poor girl enough. "Thank you," she says, brushing her free hand over Saoirse's hair, then cupping her cheek for a moment. "I think I'll put it up on my fridge."

And this, she thinks, is about all the tenderness she can stand. Any more, and she'll end up carrying Saoirse home with her, too. "All right," she says bracingly, more for her own benefit than Saoirse's. She gently shepherds the girl off of her lap so she can get back to her feet. "Now, are you sure you don't want a snack?" she asks, smiling down at her.