Chapter 17
“You had months to be scared.”
“I know.”
“You had one chance to stand beside me.”
His eyes filled.
For a moment, I felt the old urge to make him feel better.
Then I thought of Ruth's hand, Mom's clean socks, Lucy breathing against my chest.
“I hope you're a good father to her,” I said.
“I still love you.”
“I need to go pick her up.”
After the settlement funds arrived, I opened a separate savings account.
Then I spent six hundred dollars on fabric, thread, and the first supplies for an idea I'd put aside when Garrett said we couldn't afford it.
Mom helped me clear a worktable.
This time, nobody told me to stop planning for myself.
PART 8 — THE PEOPLE IN THE ROOM
On Lucy's first birthday, I woke before she did.
For a few minutes, the apartment was quiet.
Our apartment.
Two bedrooms, a narrow balcony, and a kitchen small enough that I could reach the refrigerator from the stove.
I had chosen it because the rent fit my budget and the childcare center was six minutes away.
The first night we slept there, I checked the lock three times.
Then I lay awake listening to Lucy breathe in her room.
I missed Mom down the hallway. I missed having someone notice when the laundry was finished or ask whether I had eaten.
But in the morning, I made coffee in my own kitchen.
There was no conversation waiting to punish me for something I hadn't known.
Lucy woke while I was cutting strawberries.
She stood in her crib, holding the rail, and smiled when she saw me.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
I lifted her and held her cheek against mine.
A year earlier, I had been afraid that everything I could give her had become smaller.
Now there were days when our life felt pleasantly ordinary.
I still worked in payroll.
On evenings when Lucy slept well, I embroidered names on baby blankets and packed orders at the little table Mom had helped me set up.
The business began with gifts for two coworkers.
One asked whether I could make another for her sister. Then somebody ordered a matching set.
I learned to price my time instead of apologizing for charging.
I made mistakes. A package arrived late. I stitched one name incorrectly and replaced the blanket at my own expense.
I kept records and tried again.