After Anna(5)

‘What makes you think he’ll want to see me, after I plead guilty to murder?’

‘He might not want to see you anyway!’ Thomas threw up his heavy arms.

‘Pleading guilty ensures it. If I plead guilty, well, I explained it. I just won’t do it.’

‘It’s your life.’

‘Mine isn’t the only life to consider. I have to think of Maggie and Caleb.’

‘You’re being noble.’

‘I’m being a husband and a father.’

‘Exactly why I’m single.’ Thomas snorted. ‘Noah, you’re going against my express legal advice. What would you think of a patient who did that?’

‘My patients are eight years old. If a mom or dad didn’t take my advice, I’d figure they’d had their reasons.’ Noah encouraged his parents to get second opinions. He understood it, himself. Caleb had been late to babble as a baby and as he reached a year and a half, he’d shown difficulty repeating words like mommy and daddy. Noah had suspected he had childhood apraxia of speech, which was hard to identify in pre-school children. The pediatrician had disagreed, but Noah had been right.

‘If this came up on appeal, I’d be considered negligent.’

‘You’re not. I’m not appealing anything. Thank you for trying. I appreciate it.’

‘Damn, you’re tough!’ Thomas folded his arms.

‘You need to come to a place of acceptance,’ Noah said, without elaborating.





Chapter Four


Maggie, Before

‘Noah, great news!’ Maggie raced across the dappled lawn to Noah, planting rosebushes along the back fence. She hustled past Caleb, who was taking videos of their tabbycat, Wreck-It Ralph, near the swingset on the other side of the backyard.

‘What?’ Noah turned, pushing back his hair, a thick sandy-blond thatch glinting silver at the temples. He was forty-three, and she loved the signs of age on him, like the crow’s-feet crinkling the corners of his eyes, which were a seriously intelligent blue, set wide apart. He had a straight nose and a grin that came more easily once he knew you better.

‘Guess what?’ Maggie reached him, bursting with the news. ‘Anna called! I’m going up to see her on Friday!’

‘Anna called?’ Noah’s face lit up. He stuck the shovel in the ground. ‘My God, that’s wonderful, honey!’

‘She wants to see me! Like, I got a shot!’

‘That’s awesome! Come here!’ Noah scooped Maggie up and swung her around.

‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? Woo-hoo!’ Maggie did a little dance, holding on to his hands. ‘It’s everything!’

‘We have to celebrate! How about we go out to dinner? Order a bottle of champagne!’

‘On Easter?’ Maggie laughed again.

‘Oh, right, I forgot!’ Noah hugged her close to his sweatshirt, which smelled of peat moss. ‘Honey, I’m so happy for you. You deserve this, you really do.’

‘I hoped it would happen, and it did! I can’t even deal. It’s a miracle, I swear.’ Maggie buried her face in his chest, trying not to cry all over again. ‘I always hoped she’d come around.’

‘I know, babe. I’m so glad.’ Noah rocked her back and forth slightly, and Maggie let herself be cuddled in the sun, breathing in the comfort of his arms, his familiarity, his husbandness. She loved that Noah was always on the same page as she was, especially about the big things. About the backyard, they had different views. She’d fallen in love with Zephirine Drouhin roses, but he would’ve planted ivy.

‘I really want her in my life. I hate that she’s not. And I hate why.’ Maggie hid her face, ashamed. The only thing worse than being a bad mother was being an unfit mother, like her. She’d even been adjudicated unfit. She didn’t tell most people that she even had a daughter, to avoid the explanation. Her best friend, Kathy, knew because they had gone through it together, but Maggie hadn’t told her other friends or anyone at the office. She’d told Caleb, but it had been too abstract for him to really understand.

‘Honey, don’t be so hard on yourself.’ Noah let her go, looking down at her tenderly.

‘It’s just awful. Now I have to tell her everything.’

‘You didn’t do anything wrong. You got sick, is all.’

‘But she grew up without a mother. I have to answer for that.’

‘You don’t have to answer for anything.’ Noah frowned sympathetically.

‘Yes, I do.’ Maggie felt guilty, despite years of therapy. After Anna’s birth, Maggie had developed postpartum psychosis, an extreme form of postpartum depression. It had begun with sleeplessness, anxiety, and profound feelings of inadequacy as a mother, then progressed to bouts of crying, hearing voices, and intrusive thoughts of hurting herself.

‘If you had cancer, you wouldn’t feel that way. You had a mental illness, you got treatment, and you got better.’

‘But Anna’s young. She won’t understand. I wouldn’t have, at her age.’ Maggie had always thought that postpartum depression was just the baby blues and she’d never even heard of postpartum psychosis. She wouldn’t have believed it was possible if she hadn’t lived through it, and there were so many other women who weren’t as lucky, mothers who committed suicide or drove their car into a lake, with their babies.