Phee glanced at Melissa but said nothing.
“She can’t take her back to Ohio,” Melissa whispered to Bradley the fourth night of her sister’s visit. They were in bed, and Melissa had pillows under her knees while Bradley was stroking her stomach, irritating her. “If you want to feel the baby move, just leave your hand still,” she snapped. “But I’m trying to tell you that Ophelia would suffer, Bradley. She needs to stay with us.”
“Which I would absolutely love,” he said. “She’s a very unique girl with a bright future, no matter where she ends up. Kids are adaptable, Melissa. Kaitlyn loves her and has a right to raise her daughter.”
“No, she doesn’t! She’s a junkie! Sorry, substance abuse disorder sufferer or whatever the heck you people call it. She just hasn’t relapsed yet. And she will, Bradley. She’s been on drugs since she was thirteen years old. Wakeford has nothing for Ophelia. Nothing except easy access to heroin.”
“Well, you know, the Cape has its drug issues, too,” Bradley said. “Lillie and I were vigilant with Dylan and the kids he hung out with. We talked very openly to him and his friends about drug and alcohol abuse. And sex. Oh, God, Lillie was so funny! There was no escaping her talks about teenage pregnancy. Every one of Dylan’s friends got lectured about STDs and condoms, consent, ovulation, everything.” He smiled fondly.
“Oh, for criminy’s sake, Bradley, do you have to talk about Lillie again? Can you just focus on my problem here?” The twang was in her voice . . . unavoidable when Katie was so close by.
“Honey. Sweetheart. I know this is very hard. But the fact is, Kaitlyn will probably get custody. You know that. It’s hard to accept, but we’ll adjust.”
She tried to turn on her side, away from Bradley’s too-kind face, but rolling was not her strong suit these days. “Give me a shove,” she said, and he pushed her back until she made it. She stuffed another pillow under her stomach, and the baby rolled and kicked against her. Maybe it was upset, too. Tears leaked into her pillow, and she belched. Grabbed the Tums she now had to keep on the night table.
“You okay, honey?” Bradley asked.
“No,” she said. “I hate being pregnant, and I’m about to lose Ophelia.” She sobbed, burped again, and let her husband put his arms around her.
It didn’t help.
* * *
The next day, when Bradley had gone to work and Phee was at school, Melissa asked Kaitlyn to sit down with her. They went into the den, which was cozier than the vast, echoing living room, and because there was a huge photo of the three of them on the wedding day—Melissa beautiful in that amazing dress (would her waist ever be that small again? Would her breasts ever come back to human size?), Bradley gorgeous in his suit, and Ophelia smiling brightly, delighted by the “witch” who’d stood out there on the sand (who’d been photoshopped out, obviously). But Kaitlyn didn’t need to know the backstory. She could just see her daughter beaming, their little family so perfect.
“Helluva dress,” Kaitlyn said, studying the picture.
“Thank you,” Melissa said. “Let’s talk about Ophelia.”
“Actually, I want to talk about Harminee,” Katie said, narrowing her eyes.
“Sit down. Make yourself comfortable,” Melissa said.
It was snowing hard outside, big wet flakes. Under other circumstances, it would’ve been snug, sitting here with her sister. When they were kids and the snow would come to the mountains, she’d make Katie a cup of cocoa by melting down a chocolate bar she’d swiped from the Dollar General and adding sweetened condensed milk.
That was a lifetime ago. She wished they could go back in time, so she could save Kaitlyn somehow. Save her from drugs, from jail, from a pregnancy she didn’t plan and a baby she couldn’t raise, from the pain of all those things.
“Right. Well, Katie, we took her in when you asked, and I’m so glad we did. I’ve been able to give her a good life. She’s had every advantage since she’s been with me, and—”
“You mean money. She’s had a ton of money thrown at her. I get it. You’re rich, I’m poor. But I’m still her mother, and now that you got a bun in the oven, you can probably tell how much that matters. I gave birth to her, raised her till she was seven—”
“Except for the years when her grandparents had her, because you were using. And then you got arrested. I’m sorry, Katie, but it’s true. You’re not . . . reliable.”
“Fuck you, Missy-Jo. I changed.”
“Really? Where’s my perfume? My necklace with the pearl on it? The diamond earrings? Those brown leather ankle boots?”
“You told me your feet were swolled up. I’m doing you a favor, taking them off your hands.”
“You’re stealing from me. I could report you. I doubt your parole officer would like that.”
“I’m borrowing a few nice things from my beloved sister while I’m visiting her. You said to make myself at home, and that’s what I’m doing. You gave me all them clothes. Who’s to say I’m stealin’? I ain’t even left your house yet.”
Melissa shifted and tried to breathe in calm, exhale fear, but the baby’s head was pressing against her lungs. “Katie, do you really think your daughter would be better off with you, or do you think she’d be better off with me? She’s getting a great education. She has a father figure. She’s taking piano and French. I can afford college for her. Don’t those things matter?”
“What about a mother’s love? Don’t you think that matters, Missy? I ain’t had her for five years. I want her back. She’s mine. And your snooty-ass husband barely pays attention to her, no matter what he says on social media.”
Oh, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be at all! Kaitlyn was supposed to be grateful and stay far away, and Melissa was supposed to be the real mother no matter who’d given birth to Ophelia. Melissa wasn’t supposed to be having another baby, and she wasn’t supposed to be faced with losing Ophelia! They’d gone through so much together . . . adjusting to New York, Dennis’s death, the move out here. The pregnancy had brought them closer than they’d ever been. Having a baby without Ophelia to be a big sister . . . it felt unbearable.
“I’ll fight for her in court,” Melissa said quietly. “I’ve already spoken to a lawyer.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll lose. I got papers saying I’ve been sober for five years. You don’t got a leg to stand on, Missy-Jo. Besides, you’ll have your own baby soon enough. Is it a girl? I’m bettin’ it’s a girl, from the way you spread out. Girls take their mother’s beauty, they say. So get ready to say goodbye, because I ain’t doing nothing that’s illegal, and I’m getting mighty sick of your so-called hospitality. I’m telling Harminee that we’re going back home when she gets outta school today.”
“Don’t,” said Melissa. “At least . . . at least wait till the weekend.”
“Nope. She’s my daughter, and I’m itching to get home. I’ve had enough of your rich-bitch lifestyle, Missy-Jo. Mama and Daddy would be ashamed of you.”
Fury rushed through Melissa, turning her cheeks hot, prickling her skin. “Ashamed of me? I made something of myself! Look around, Kaitlyn! I’m winning, and you’re still a loser.”
“Well, suck on this, princess. You’re losing Harminee. Get used to it.”
* * *
When Ophelia got home from school, her tangled curls were coated in a layer of melting snow.
“They already called a snow day for tomorrow,” she announced. “Mama, you want to go sledding? We know a great hill at the golf course!”
Kaitlyn said, “Come on up to my room, kid. I gotta tell you something.”
Ophelia shot a look to Melissa.
“Don’t look at her,” Kaitlyn said. “I’m your mother.”
“Let’s talk to her together,” Melissa said. “Please, Katie.”
“Not your business,” Kaitlyn said.
“Mama, can’t you say it in front of her?” Ophelia asked, her eyes worried. She picked up Teeny and held her close.