Cass felt so much lighter after that, relieved of a burden she didn’t even know she’d been carrying. It wasn’t entirely about other people anymore. It was about self-respect and being a good enough reason to stay sober in her own right.
She worked harder than ever—at being a responsible mother, a kind friend, a successful student—but now it was more for the joy of feeling competent and helpful, not so much to avoid the shame of failing in other people’s eyes. The perspective shift helped her enormously.
Maggie made a full recovery. By the time she was three weeks old, the gavage tube was out and she was breastfeeding during the day and bottle feeding with Cass’s pumped milk at night. Her pale peach-colored down grew into auburn-red hair. “She’s her mama’s girl,” Scott would murmur, brushing it with a finger. Maggie’s blue eyes began to go brown, like Ben’s. Cass had half hoped they’d stay bluish gray, like Scott’s.
Gradually he stopped watching so closely for Cass’s every misstep. Strangely, taking the focus off keeping him happy . . . made him happier.
It was ironic.
Ben would have loved that.
* * *
LAUREL brought her old baby equipment over; Scott emptied out one of the bedrooms and set it all up. “For a tiny little thing, she’s got more gear than a major-league team,” he said. One night he came home with a rocking chair like they’d had in the hospital. He pretended it was for himself—“I may just live in it”—but he put it in Cass’s room. Cass knew better than to say thank you, but she hugged him anyway.
Kate visited with Cass and Maggie in the NICU. She was now assistant manager of Hair of the Dog Grooming Center. She confided to Cass that she had a crush on the manager, Dev, with the titanium leg. But she wasn’t going to do anything about it. Not yet, anyway.
Cass completed her two online classes with final grades of B and B plus. She’d hoped for better, though with all that had happened, she knew her expectations had been too high. Nevertheless, she felt her chances were improved for landing a day care job when the time came.
Whenever that was. There had been no talk about her moving out since Maggie’s birth. Once when Scott was giving her a driving lesson through a neighboring town they passed a sign, APARTMENT FOR RENT, on the lawn of an old Victorian. Cass slowed to get a better look.
“You have to keep up your speed,” Scott chided, “or the guy behind you is gonna end up in your back seat.”
She didn’t know if he’d seen the sign. She wanted to say something. But the small part of her that was still a scared, motherless child was loath to point out the obvious: that she was a temporary guest in his home. That this holding pattern could not go on indefinitely.
* * *
ON November tenth, at almost six weeks old, weighing seven pounds, and able to hold her head up for several seconds at a time, Maggie Hallie Macklin McGreavy came home to Chickadee Circle. Scott carried her in, sleeping in her car seat, and set her on the speckled granite countertop of the kitchen island. He and Cass sat in their usual stools, watching as her eyelids fluttered with a dream, her lips puckered momentarily as if suckling and then relaxed, her cheeks smooth and pink. They glanced at each other and smiled, then went back to baby-gazing.
Maggie was home. And it was all that mattered.
That evening, the Kesslers came to welcome the newest resident of the cul-de-sac. Each boy took a turn holding Maggie, even little Timmy, with Cass snuggled next to him on the couch, buttressing his best toddler intentions. Laurel took endless pictures. Scott and Adam stood next to each other, arms crossed, watching the proceedings like a pair of bodyguards.
“Tough season,” said Adam.
Scott shrugged. “How’s the new job?”
Adam shrugged.
It was Laurel’s turn to hold the baby, and the younger boys crowded around as she made little surprised faces at Maggie so she would smile. A cheer went up at every drool-laden grin.
Drew stood in the doorway a few yards off. Cass came over and stood beside him. “How’s it going with your dad at home more?” she asked.
“It sucks. He checks up on me way more than Mom ever did.” Drew mimicked his father’s low, serious voice. “Where’s your homework, let me see it, let me look it over for you.” He let out a snort of disgust. “It’s killing me.” Cass gazed at him passively. Drew rolled his eyes. “You don’t feel sorry for me at all, do you?”
Cass gave a slow headshake. “In fact, not only do I not feel sorry for you, I feel jealous of you.”
“It’s official,” said Drew. “You’re a mom. Moms ruin everything, even complaining.”
Though she knew he would hate it—and he did, his body stiffening in horror—she hugged him, imagining that somewhere in there, the little boy he once was, and maybe even the man he would become, didn’t mind so much.
* * *
A couple of days later, Scott had something to tell Cass, and he didn’t look happy about it. “I’ve been holding off,” he said. “I just wanted us to enjoy having Maggie home and settled.”
“What is it?”
“My mother’s coming.”