Chapter 5 - The Nursery They Had Prepared Without Me
I came home five days after Nora was born.
She needed a little longer at the hospital, but her doctors were pleased with her progress.
I visited as often as I could.
Every time I left, I felt as though someone had pulled a thread straight through my chest.
I wanted my baby home.
I wanted to put her in the crib beneath the wooden stars.
I wanted ordinary things.
Warm bottles.
Sleepless nights.
Tiny socks disappearing inside the washing machine.
I wanted to stop feeling that every moment of motherhood had to be fought for.
Leah drove me home.
Andrew had offered to pick me up.
I declined.
He had sent flowers every day.
Roses.
Lilies.
An enormous arrangement of pink hydrangeas.
I gave most of them to the nurses.
Flowers were easy.
They didn't require honesty.
They didn't answer phone calls.
They didn't stand beside a woman while she gave birth.
When Leah pulled into my driveway, I noticed something immediately.
The garage door was open.
A moving truck stood beside the house.
Two men were carrying a white wooden chair toward it.
My stomach dropped.
"Leah."
She followed my gaze.
"What the hell?"
It was my rocking chair.
The one my mother had bought before she died.
I had planned to rock Nora in it.
Leah stopped the car.
I opened the door before she could help me.
"Rachel, wait!"
I moved slowly across the driveway.
"Excuse me!"
The men stopped.
One held the chair.
The other carried a box marked NURSERY.
"Where are you taking that?"
The taller man checked a clipboard.
"Pickup for Monroe."
"I'm Mrs. Monroe."
He looked uncomfortable.
"We have an order to move some furniture."
"Who ordered it?"
"Mr. Andrew Monroe."
I stared at him.
"Put it down."
"Ma'am—"
"Please. Put the chair down."
He did.
Leah came up beside me.
"She's just had surgery. We're going inside."
I took a shaky breath.
The front door was unlocked.
Andrew stood in the hallway.
He was talking on the phone.
"No, Mom, I'm handling it."
Then he saw us.
His expression changed.
"Rachel."
I walked past him.
Straight toward the nursery.
The crib was still there.
But the rocking chair was gone.
The small dresser was gone.
Half the shelves had been emptied.
The wooden stars still hung above the crib, turning slowly in the air from the open window.
I stared at the bare spaces.
"What did you do?"
Andrew appeared behind me.
"Before you get upset—"
"What did you do?"
He sighed.
"Mom thought it would be easier if you stayed with them for a while."
I turned.
"What?"
"At the cabin. They have plenty of room."
"I have a house."
"Rachel, you've just had surgery."
"I know."
"You need help."
"Then help me."
He looked away.
I waited.
He said nothing.
"You want to move our daughter's furniture into your parents' house?"
"Just temporarily."
"Without asking me?"
"We were trying to make things easier."
I laughed once.
It sounded terrible.
"Easy for whom?"
Andrew rubbed his face.
"Can we not fight?"
I looked around the nursery.
This room had been my refuge during pregnancy.
When Andrew stayed late at his father's office, I came here.
When Janice criticized my weight, my job, or my choice of pediatrician, I came here.
I folded clothes.
I painted stars.
I imagined a safe place for our daughter.
And Andrew had started taking it apart.
"Get the furniture back inside," I said.
"Rachel—"
"Now."
Leah stepped between us.
"Andrew, call the movers."
He stared at her.
"This is my house too."
I looked at him.
"My mother left me this house."
His mouth tightened.
"We're married."
"That doesn't make this okay."
He walked out.
I heard him speaking sharply to the movers.
Leah helped me sit in the nursery.
My incision ached.
My hands were shaking.
I looked at the little white crib.
"I don't understand."
Leah sat beside me.
"I think you're beginning to."
She was right.
I just didn't want her to be.
That evening, Andrew left to stay with his parents.
He said I needed space.
For once, I agreed.
Leah stayed with me.
We made soup.
She washed the baby blankets.
I sat in the rocking chair after the movers returned it, holding an empty blanket against my chest.
I felt ridiculous.
I felt devastated.
I felt grateful that my sister didn't tell me to stop crying.
At nine, Olivia called.
"Rachel?"
"Hi."
"I'm sorry about the furniture."
I closed my eyes.
"You knew?"
"Mom told me Andrew was moving the nursery."
"Why?"
Olivia hesitated.
"Because the cabin has a nursery."
I sat straighter.
"What?"
"They've been fixing up one of the bedrooms."
"For whose baby?"
Silence.
"Olivia."
"For Nora."
I couldn't speak.
She continued quickly.
"Mom said you'd need help and that it would be better if the baby stayed there for the first few months."
"Did Andrew agree?"
"Yes."
I stared at the wall.
Nobody had asked me.
Nobody had discussed it with me.
My daughter was still in the hospital, and my husband's family was deciding where she would live.
Olivia sounded close to tears.
"Rachel, I didn't realize how bad things were."
"Why are you telling me now?"
"Because Mom told me something this morning."
I waited.
"She said once Nora was at the cabin, you'd have no reason not to come."
I felt sick.
It wasn't a nursery.
It was leverage.
They had prepared a beautiful little room for a baby whose mother they intended to pressure into following.
"What else do you know?" I asked.
Olivia took a breath.
"Rachel, Andrew didn't drive straight to the highway that night."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What?"
"He stopped somewhere first."
"Where?"
She hesitated.
"Near the pharmacy."
I stopped breathing.
May you like
"How do you know?"
"Because he told Mom he saw your car."
