Free Babycakes by Donna Kauffman

mostly work to keep the man-made barriers, trash, netting, that sort of thing, to a minimum to help keep their path clear to the water. And keep the lights off, so they don’t get confused.” He flipped the papers back on his clipboard and put it under his arm. “If any of the film comes out well, we can show Lilly an edited piece of the babies digging through the surface and trekking to the water. It really is a sight to see.”
    Morgan smiled. “That would be great. I’d be happy to help with that, if you need me to. I’ve put a lot of film together for clients . . . for in court and for fund-raising, so I’ve gotten pretty handy with that sort of thing.”
    Gabe smiled. “Good to know. Careful what you offer.”
    Morgan’s smile spread to a grin. “It would be my pleasure. Something to balance out the work life.”
    Gabe’s expression turned knowing. “Funny. Kit said something along the same lines.”
    Morgan shook his head and chuckled. “Glad to know you’re not matchmaking.” He headed back toward the door to the lab where Lilly was keeping Paddlefoot company.
    “I didn’t say that.” He smiled, a sage look on his face. “Just that I don’t play at it.”
    As Morgan neared the doorway, he could hear Lilly singing quietly, and that lump came back to his throat. He looked back at Gabe, barely registering what the man had said. “Thank you. Again.”
    Gabe merely lifted a hand in an easy wave and headed toward the front of the building.
    Morgan paused at the door to the rehab area, not wanting to intrude just yet. Lilly was singing so softly he couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded soothing and comforting, rather than sad, which, he discovered as he listened, soothed something inside him as well.
    The song ended, and he stepped into the room so she could see him. “Hey, sweet pea,” he called out, just loudly enough that she could hear him. “Pizza time.”
    She slid off the stool he’d parked her on and said good-bye to Paddlefoot, then said her good-byes to each and every other turtle.
    Morgan had long since lost track of the number of tears he’d shed in the past nine months, but at least the moisture gathering in his eyes this time was from happiness. Heal and be healed. He’d seen enough of life, knew enough about himself, to know that would happen for him, eventually. Already, he’d learned Lilly would be a big part of the healing process. Maybe it was going to happen for her, too.
    He scooped her up and swung her lightly around. “What do you think about pepperoni?”
    “I don’t know,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
    “What say we go find out?”
    She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Okay.”
    Her body was relaxed and more than a little heavy, but he relished every ounce of the weight. They’d had a very big day, and she was understandably tired. For once, it was from a day well spent, doing new and interesting things. There would be more days like this to come, too. It bolstered his confidence that he’d done the right thing, taking her to the turtle hospital.
    She was already half dozing as Morgan ducked through the door to cross the lab. He nodded at Gabe, who smiled at him and his sleepy cargo, and nodded in return. He turned his back to duck through the long plastic flaps across the reception door and saw that Gabe had followed them to the front door.
    “You know”—Gabe spoke quietly, so as not to disturb Lilly—“you should think about finding out why.”
    Morgan paused. “Why what?” he asked, keeping his tone soft.
    “Why your last name gave Miss Kit pause.”
    “Why does it matter?”
    Gabe smiled, his alert focus sharpening his gaze. “Well, since you’re helping with the funding, and possible video editing, and Miss Lilly there might be of some help this winter break when I lose my student interns from the college. . . it’s my guess you’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”
    “We will?”
    “She’ll be back. And