“If you’re offering five mil, I bet you can get up to ten,” Kaitlyn said in the snake whisper.
“We used to love each other,” Melissa blurted. “You and me. You were my only . . . person. I wanted you to come with me, to . . . to get away with me. I loved you, Katie. You’re the only thing I ever missed from my old life. I could’ve erased you from Ophelia’s life, but I didn’t. I let her call you and write to you because I remembered who you used to be. My friend. My smart, funny little sister.”
Kaitlyn just raised one eyebrow, waiting.
“How about this, Katie? You stay clean for a year. I’ll rent you a place in town, and you do a urine test every week, and after a year, you can come live with us, here, in this house. You can have the apartment over the garage, or . . . or I’ll buy you your own place. You’ll be right here, part of her life.”
For a second, she thought she saw the shine of tears in her sister’s eyes. Then Kaitlyn looked out the window toward the bay.
So she knew, then. Kaitlyn knew she wouldn’t be able to stay sober, or be the kind of mother Ophelia needed. “Let’s settle on seven,” Katie said. “You give me the money, and you’ll get the kid.”
Melissa heard a small noise in the hall. She didn’t turn her head or acknowledge it. Please be Teeny, she thought. “Okay. I’ll call a lawyer.”
* * *
Kaitlyn left five days later. She hugged Ophelia, told her she’d see her soon, flipped Melissa the bird and got into her car and drove away. Ophelia didn’t say much, just went to her room and didn’t emerge for a day. Melissa left a tray of cinnamon toast and tea outside her door.
Bradley was upset, too. He felt that she should have “consulted” him because, he said, “giving away that amount of money impacts both our futures, and our unborn child’s.” He was currently attempting a regal disappointment. Money-grubber. Also, he was sleeping in one of the guest rooms, because her snoring had gotten worse, and she soaked the pillows with drool. Oh, and she rubbed her legs against the sheets, because it felt like they were covered with spiders, and it irritated him.
As for sex, that window had slammed shut the last time they’d done it, because parts of her . . . lady garden . . . hurt. He’d better be an incredible father, or she was ditching him. His WASPy charm, his soft voice, his ability to make it seem like he was so much smarter than everyone else . . . if she had a nickel for every time he’d said “Well, actually, that’s not quite true” when she tried to make conversation about current events. He used to find her fascinating. He was basically paid to find her fascinating, the jerk.
She was too tired to care, honestly. She had Ophelia, and the adoption was locked tight, and yes, her net worth had taken a punch.
Two nights after her sister left, Melissa knocked on Ophelia’s door. It was after ten, and though she was tired, Melissa wanted to see her niece. Her daughter now.
Ophelia was curled on her side, looking like she was six years old. Her eyes were closed, lashes resting on her cheeks like an angel’s, a halo of tangled blond curls around her face. Melissa lay down on the covers as slowly as she could manage and put her arm around Ophelia. Took a throw pillow and stuffed it under her stomach. The baby rolled and pressed against Phee’s back, and Ophelia stirred.
She lifted her head and glanced at Melissa. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Yep. Are you okay?” Melissa whispered back.
“Yeah.” They looked at each other for a minute, then Ophelia put her head back on her pillow. Melissa couldn’t help it—she reached out and stroked her niece’s—daughter’s—hair.
“Thanks for buying me,” Ophelia whispered. She took a shaky breath, and Melissa knew she was crying, and hugged her close.
“I can feel the baby,” Ophelia said after a minute.
“She can feel you, too,” Melissa answered.
“Is it a girl, then?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think so.”
The wind blew against the window. “A little sister. That’d be nice.”
A few hot tears slid out of Melissa’s eyes, but this time, they didn’t feel like those uncontrollable pregnancy tears. This time, they felt good. Like they were sealing the deal.
CHAPTER 32
Lillie
March was soggy and gray, but the wind carried the scents of spring like a promise. The wind still howled, but the smells of dirt and rain were in the air.
I went to the hospital one Tuesday to catch a baby—seriously, I almost missed it, because the mother dilated eight centimeters in two hours and only needed one push to birth her child into the world. After we got the mama settled and the baby tucked in against her, and I’d taken a hundred or so pictures for them, I went to fill out the necessary reports.
“Hey,” said Tonya, the admin. “Got a little news for you. Dr. Schneider’s taking early retirement.”
My head jerked up from the keyboard. “Say again now?”
Tonya lowered her voice. “Patient complaint. One of yours. You didn’t see it? Hang on a sec. You were cc’d. And there’s a viral video!”
She printed out two sheets of paper and handed them to me.
During my labor, I was calmly breathing through my contractions in the birthing pool when certified nurse-midwife Lillie Silva stepped out to get some food for my husband and me. For no reason we could determine, Dr. Carline Schneider interrupted without knocking. Without even examining me, she decided I wasn’t giving birth fast enough, was not progressing well, informed me that I was giving “poor maternal effort,” needed medical intervention and that I was endangering my baby’s life.
Fortunately, Nurse Silva intervened and escorted her from the room even as Dr. Schneider told me I would need an emergency cesarean.
She was wrong. A couple hours later, I joyfully gave birth to a very healthy baby, thanks to my midwife, who encouraged and helped me during this natural process. I could not have wished for a better birth experience except for the rudeness and inaccurate, outdated information from Dr. Schneider.
It was from Elizabeth and Tom.
“There’s a video, too,” Tonya said. “Elizabeth holding her baby, telling her birth story. Some of the big pregnancy blogs picked it up and are using it as an example of things not to say to a woman in labor and how outdated some OBs are.”
“Whoa,” I said. I blinked a few times. Tonya handed me an iPad, and I watched as Elizabeth, looking utterly gorgeous holding her little sweetheart, told it like it was.
“Everyone on the floor has watched it,” Tonya whispered. “We’re not exactly heartbroken that the old shrew is leaving.” She glanced over my shoulder. “So yeah, definitely Taco Heaven over Sam Diego’s,” she said loudly. “Can’t beat their guacamole.”
I turned. Carline Schneider, in the flesh.
“Well, if it isn’t Nurse Jenny Lee,” she said to me. “God forbid we actually use modern medicine to ensure the health of a mother and child as long as they can post their birth stories online. I hope you’re happy.”
“I’m so happy, Carline,” I said. “For one, Call the Midwife is my favorite show.” Tonya snickered. “For two, I did everything I was supposed to do as a midwife. You interrupted a perfectly beautiful labor, tried to intimidate my patient and misinformed her about the threat to the baby. And then you threw me under the bus, attacked my reputation, accused me of assault and got me suspended. So yes, I’m glad you’re leaving.” I put the complaint down. “Now. I have a new mama to see.”
Sometimes, you get those moments. Sometimes, the perfect words just roll off your tongue. Sometimes, you get to be right and have the last word. Not often, but sometimes.
* * *