pretty and surprise Daddy when he comes home.”
“Da.”
That sounded like agreement to her, so she bought two dozen dresses, six packages of tights, and a pair of shiny white patent-leather shoes that took her back to Easter mornings and summer Sunday school when she was a girl not much older than Emma. As she paid for her purchases, she told herself there was no rational excuse for her earlier meltdown. It wasn’t as though Emma had grown up overnight. She was still a baby. And if, while she was shopping for Emma, she happened to take a peek at the newborn items as well, it didn’t mean she was psychologically unstable. She liked baby clothes. Liked baby toys. Liked babies . What was wrong with liking babies? It didn’t mean she was obsessed. Rob was, once again, blowing things out of proportion, worrying about phantoms that only existed in the darkest regions of his mind.
Back at home, she dropped the bags on the couch, left Emma’s stroller in the entryway, and settled in the rocking chair, where they spent some special mother-daughter time. With Emma cuddled on her lap, Casey read Pat the Bunny to her wide-eyed little girl. “See how soft the bunny is?” she said. “Does Emmy like the soft bunny?”
“Da.” Emma reached out a tiny hand, touched the furry creature with eager little fingers, then looked up at her mother and grinned, a grin so like Rob’s that Casey found it a little disarming. It was a sure bet that by the time she was fifteen, Emma would be turning members of the opposite sex into a warm puddle of goo, just like her father still did.
Casey buried her nose in Emma’s velvety-soft neck, eliciting squeals of delight. “My sweet baby,” she said, breathing in the heady scent of little girl, “I haven’t given you enough Mom time lately.”
“Mum,” Emma said.
Guilt nibbled at the edges of her consciousness. Emma wasn’t the only one she’d been neglecting. She’d always been a good wife, a good mother. But lately, she’d been too encased in her own cocoon of misery, too spent, too empty, to expend any of her time or energy on Paige or Rob. She really needed to make a little more effort, even if that effort did feel like wading through a sea of molasses.
So she picked up the phone and called Rob.
After the miscarriage, he’d bought them matching cell phones. It had seemed silly to her at the time. What on earth would they do with the things? At home, tucked into the rolling hills of Western Maine, the phones barely worked. Cell towers were few and far between in Maine’s rural areas. Nobody she knew had a cell phone, and she’d lived almost forty years without carting one around. Why was Rob so insistent that she needed one now?
But she had to admit that here in New York, where there were no problems with reception, the phones came in handy . With Rob working so many hours, it was nice to be able to reach him at any point in time without having to go through Sheila.
He answered on the second ring, sounding a little distracted . “Hey,” she said.
“Hey . What’s up?”
“Emmy and I are going through Daddy withdrawals . I thought if you could get out at a reasonable hour, I’d make a nice dinner for the four of us.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it ? You’ve had a long day. Paige and I are perfectly fine having pizza brought in.”
“My day just got better . Emmy and I have been shopping. And you can’t live on pizza. I thought that since I’ve been neglecting my family lately, I’d try to make it up to you tonight. Are you game?”
“I can manage it, if you’re sure . What time do you want us home?”
“Eight -thirty?”
“Eight -thirty works for me.”
So she loaded Emma back in her stroller and went to the market on the next block, where she picked up fresh salad greens and a roasting chicken . Back home again, she stashed her groceries in the fridge and gave Emma a bath.
Bath time was Emma’s favorite time of day. She splashed and played,
“Da.”
That sounded like agreement to her, so she bought two dozen dresses, six packages of tights, and a pair of shiny white patent-leather shoes that took her back to Easter mornings and summer Sunday school when she was a girl not much older than Emma. As she paid for her purchases, she told herself there was no rational excuse for her earlier meltdown. It wasn’t as though Emma had grown up overnight. She was still a baby. And if, while she was shopping for Emma, she happened to take a peek at the newborn items as well, it didn’t mean she was psychologically unstable. She liked baby clothes. Liked baby toys. Liked babies . What was wrong with liking babies? It didn’t mean she was obsessed. Rob was, once again, blowing things out of proportion, worrying about phantoms that only existed in the darkest regions of his mind.
Back at home, she dropped the bags on the couch, left Emma’s stroller in the entryway, and settled in the rocking chair, where they spent some special mother-daughter time. With Emma cuddled on her lap, Casey read Pat the Bunny to her wide-eyed little girl. “See how soft the bunny is?” she said. “Does Emmy like the soft bunny?”
“Da.” Emma reached out a tiny hand, touched the furry creature with eager little fingers, then looked up at her mother and grinned, a grin so like Rob’s that Casey found it a little disarming. It was a sure bet that by the time she was fifteen, Emma would be turning members of the opposite sex into a warm puddle of goo, just like her father still did.
Casey buried her nose in Emma’s velvety-soft neck, eliciting squeals of delight. “My sweet baby,” she said, breathing in the heady scent of little girl, “I haven’t given you enough Mom time lately.”
“Mum,” Emma said.
Guilt nibbled at the edges of her consciousness. Emma wasn’t the only one she’d been neglecting. She’d always been a good wife, a good mother. But lately, she’d been too encased in her own cocoon of misery, too spent, too empty, to expend any of her time or energy on Paige or Rob. She really needed to make a little more effort, even if that effort did feel like wading through a sea of molasses.
So she picked up the phone and called Rob.
After the miscarriage, he’d bought them matching cell phones. It had seemed silly to her at the time. What on earth would they do with the things? At home, tucked into the rolling hills of Western Maine, the phones barely worked. Cell towers were few and far between in Maine’s rural areas. Nobody she knew had a cell phone, and she’d lived almost forty years without carting one around. Why was Rob so insistent that she needed one now?
But she had to admit that here in New York, where there were no problems with reception, the phones came in handy . With Rob working so many hours, it was nice to be able to reach him at any point in time without having to go through Sheila.
He answered on the second ring, sounding a little distracted . “Hey,” she said.
“Hey . What’s up?”
“Emmy and I are going through Daddy withdrawals . I thought if you could get out at a reasonable hour, I’d make a nice dinner for the four of us.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it ? You’ve had a long day. Paige and I are perfectly fine having pizza brought in.”
“My day just got better . Emmy and I have been shopping. And you can’t live on pizza. I thought that since I’ve been neglecting my family lately, I’d try to make it up to you tonight. Are you game?”
“I can manage it, if you’re sure . What time do you want us home?”
“Eight -thirty?”
“Eight -thirty works for me.”
So she loaded Emma back in her stroller and went to the market on the next block, where she picked up fresh salad greens and a roasting chicken . Back home again, she stashed her groceries in the fridge and gave Emma a bath.
Bath time was Emma’s favorite time of day. She splashed and played,
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