Chapter 8 - The Milestone
Summer arrived with long, lazy days of cicadas buzzing in the oak trees and sprinklers running on neighborhood lawns.
Lily hit her eight-month physical therapy milestone ahead of schedule, rolling over in both directions, scooting across the living room rug with impressive determination, and flashing her bright, almond-shaped eyes at anyone who entered the room.
Her pediatric physical therapist, a warm, energetic woman named Sarah, beamed as Lily successfully pulled herself up to a standing position by holding onto the edge of the coffee table.
“Look at that core strength!” Sarah cheered, clapping. “She’s working hard. You guys are doing an amazing job with her home exercises.”
“We have a very dedicated personal coach,” Mark said, nodding toward Noah, who was sitting on the floor acting as the designated spotter, holding his hands out just inches from Lily’s hips to catch her if she wobbled.
“I’m training her for the Olympics,” Noah announced with absolute deadpan seriousness. “Gymnastics first, then maybe space exploration.”
“Space exploration sounds entirely reasonable,” Sarah laughed, packing up her clipboard.
As Sarah left and Mark walked her out to her car, I stood in the kitchen prepping sliced strawberries for a snack. Noah and Lily were still on the living room rug, deep in an intense, non-verbal negotiation over a crinkly cloth book.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
I glanced down at the screen, expecting a notification from the grocery delivery app or a reminder about Mark’s dentist appointment. Instead, it was an email from an unfamiliar local address.
I frowned, wiping my hands on a dish towel, and tapped it open.
It was a brief message from a family law firm downtown.
Dear Mrs. Morgan, We are writing to inform you on behalf of our client, Barbara Vance, regarding estate planning revisions and potential future considerations...
I stopped reading right there.
A cold, familiar spike of irritation flared in my chest, but it was quickly replaced by a profound, unbothered calm. I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel anxiety. The woman who had tried to poison our household from the inside out was nothing more than a distant, faded memory.
Before I could even finish scrolling through the rest of the corporate legal jargon, Mark walked back through the front door, shaking the heat from his hair.
“Who was that?” Mark asked, noticing the slight frown on my face as I stared at the phone.
“Just a lawyer’s office representing your mother,” I said casually, locking the screen and tossing the phone back onto the counter without a second thought.
Mark stopped, his expression hardening slightly. He walked over, standing beside me at the kitchen counter, looking out toward the living room where Noah was now successfully teaching Lily how to stack wooden blocks.
“Did she want something?” Mark asked quietly.
“Probably testing the waters,” I said, looking up at my husband and smiling. “Or trying to find a way back in now that she realizes we’re doing just fine without her.”
Mark looked at the phone for a second, then turned his gaze back to our children, watching Noah cheer as Lily knocked over her stack of blocks with an exuberant swipe of her hand. A slow, genuine smile spread across Mark’s face. He reached out, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close.
May you like
“Delete it,” Mark said softly.
“Way ahead of you,” I smiled, hitting the delete button without opening the email again.
