I would have suggested a compromise before anyone even asked.
Clara shifted against my chest.
I put my palm against her back.
“I love you,” I said.
Nancy blinked.
“I do. And I want you in Clara’s life.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“I want her to know her grandmother. I want holidays. I want you to visit. I want you to hold her and know her.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because I can’t have those things if the price is that I stop having a say in my own life.”
Nancy’s mouth tightened.
Outside, Gil stood beside the pickup with one hand resting on a box.
Krista had gotten out of the minivan.
“I spent most of my childhood making room for your decisions,” I said. “I’m not saying that to punish you. I’m saying I’m not doing it anymore.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“It isn’t.”
“I was your mother.”
“You still are.”
“I took care of you.”
“Yes.”
“I gave you everything.”
“This is not a debate about whether you loved me.”
That stopped her.
For years, love had been the evidence Nancy offered whenever anyone questioned what she did.
She loved you, so her intentions must be good.
Her intentions were good, so objecting was unfair.
She was your mother, so access came with the title.
I didn’t need to decide whether she loved me.
I needed her to understand that love did not transfer ownership of my decisions.
“I know you love me,” I said. “I’m not arguing about that.”
“Then I don’t understand why you have a lawyer standing in your living room.”
“Because last night you told me you were moving six people into my house whether I agreed or not.”
“You need help.”
“Maybe I do.”
“You’re alone.”
“I know.”
“You have a newborn.”
“I know.”
“You’ve barely slept.”
“All true. None of that makes this your house.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You told me,” I continued, “that if I didn’t like your plans, I could take Clara somewhere else.”
Nancy looked toward the door.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I was frustrated.”
“You were assigning my daughter’s nursery to three other children.”
“They’re her cousins.”
“They’re good kids. That isn’t the issue.”
Krista appeared behind Nancy.
She had two tote bags sitting on the porch near her feet.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey.”
She looked at Rebecca.
Then Victor.
Then Nancy.
Finally, she looked at me.
“You actually expected to stay here?” I asked.
Krista’s face went pink.
“Mom said you needed help.”
“I asked for two weeks alone.”
“She said you were overwhelmed and embarrassed to ask.”
“I got home from the hospital yesterday.”
“I know.”