Chapter 10
By Emma's first birthday, the house sounded different.
James sang while he made breakfast. Emma laughed whenever he tried to put her tiny shoes on the correct feet. I complained about the mess on the kitchen floor and felt grateful there was a mess to clean.
We had invited a few people for cake in the backyard.
I had made the guest list with James. Dad and Frank were coming. Mom was coming too.
Lauren was not.
The court's order remained in place, and she had followed it. I hoped the counseling would help her understand what she had done. I didn't need to wait for that to give Emma a happy day.
Mom arrived with Dad and asked where she could put the fruit she'd brought.
“In the kitchen,” I said.
She put it there and came back empty-handed.
When Emma toddled toward her, Mom glanced at me before kneeling.
“Hello, birthday girl.”
Emma showed her the wooden spoon she had been carrying all morning. Mom admired it as if it were a treasure, then let Emma move on.
Dad watched from beside the table.
“You doing okay?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“I know today might bring some memories back.”
“It does,” I said. “But there are good ones too.”
He nodded. “I'm glad you've let me be part of making them.”
Frank arrived with a stuffed rabbit almost as big as Emma. James pretended it was too heavy to lift. Emma shrieked with laughter and held out both arms for it.
The sound stopped me for a second.
James saw my face. He came over while Frank settled the rabbit on the grass.
“She sounds happy,” he said softly.
“She is.”
I watched Emma tug at the rabbit's ears. Her laughter filled the yard again. I wanted to keep listening until it became the first sound I remembered when I thought of that Christmas.
After lunch, Mom found me alone in the kitchen cutting the cake.
“Can I help?” she asked.
I handed her a stack of plates.
We worked quietly for a minute.
“I used to think helping meant stepping in before anyone asked,” she said. “I told myself I knew what you needed.”
“You stopped listening to me.”
“I did.”
I cut another slice.
“When James was away, I needed you sometimes,” I told her. “I still need my mother sometimes. I need you to believe me when I tell you what kind of help I want.”
Mom set down the plates.
“I will,” she said. “And if I forget, tell me.”
“I will.”
She smiled a little. “I believe that.”
There were things between us we would have to keep working on. I felt able to say that aloud now, and able to enjoy her being there.
We carried the cake outside.
Emma sat in her high chair between James and me. Everyone sang too fast because she was already reaching for the candle. James moved it safely away while I blew it out for her.
Then Emma put one hand straight into the frosting.
Frank cheered. Dad laughed. Mom reached for a napkin, caught my eye, and waited.
“Let her enjoy it,” I said.
Mom put the napkin down.
James leaned close to Emma.
“That's your cake, sweetheart. You can make a mess.”
Emma gave him a delighted, frosting-covered grin.
Later, when the guests had gone, Dad washed dishes and Mom wiped the table. They left after one last birthday kiss, letting us settle Emma for bed.
I carried her upstairs. James followed with the stuffed rabbit, which we set on a shelf until she was older.
Emma was sleepy but still fighting it. She stood in her crib, gripping the rail while I changed her into pajamas.
“Big day,” I told her. “You made everybody laugh.”
She pressed her forehead against mine when I lifted her.
I remembered the frightened way she'd clung to me at Christmas. I held her gently and waited while she relaxed against my shoulder.
James stood beside us and rubbed her back.
The room was quiet. The door was unlocked. No one was coming to tell me I had to hand her over.
I laid Emma in her crib. She rolled onto her side and reached one hand through the bars.
I gave her my finger.
James put his hand over mine.
For a moment, the three of us stayed there, close enough to feel Emma's small, steady grip.
“Good night, baby,” I whispered. “We're right here.”
May you like
Her eyes closed.
James kissed the top of my head, and we waited together until she was asleep.
