An Act of Persuasion(73)
Anna wiped her eyes as Mark left and suddenly the house, which had been a beehive of activity all day, was still.
“I can’t believe it’s done,” she said, joining Ben once more in the living room. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“You’ve spent the past few weeks doing nothing but getting ready for this day. I imagine you’re allowed a sniffle or two.”
“You’re so generous. Want a final tour?”
“Of course.”
She held out her hand and he took it, giving hers a gentle squeeze. She walked him through each room and talked about the colors she’d chosen and what she was trying to accomplish with the furniture. All her dishes and knickknacks were still in boxes, but she had everything labeled and waiting in the appropriate room to be unpacked. It shouldn’t take her more than a day to have all that work done.
She led him upstairs and took him to the nursery first. She hadn’t yet decided on a crib, but she had found a soft rocking chair that looked like it had been swallowed in pretty soft green pillows.
Sitting in the chair she rubbed her belly as she pushed her foot against the floor. “I mean I know all those old-fashioned rocking chairs look great, but let’s face it, they’re not very comfortable. If I’m dealing with the fact that this kid will wake me up in the middle of the night, I should at least be comfortable while I’m feeding it, right?”
Ben nodded. “Sounds like a reasonable theory.”
“I’m having a mural artist come paint a scene. All the catalogs I’ve looked at show the nursery with fluffy clouds on the ceiling. I’m not sure why the kid wants to think its outside, but whatever. Since I can’t draw a stick figure, I’m leaving it up to the professional. I think we’ll do a blue sky with clouds and then maybe some cartoon animals.”
“I’ve always been partial to Bambi.”
“Then when that’s done, I’ll get serious about the furniture. I joined this online new-mommy group and I can’t tell you how much stuff this kid is going to need. Forget the crib, there are, like, a hundred other pieces of equipment it will require, not the least of which is something called a Diaper Genie. You don’t even want to know what that’s all about.”
She knew she was rambling, but he didn’t seem to mind. He simply leaned against the door with his arms crossed over his chest taking in everything she said.
“We’ll need two car seats. Everyone says that’s the most practical. To leave one in each of our cars so we’re not always swapping one out. Then there are the carriers—the backpack kind and the newborn baby kind. I don’t necessarily see you wearing one of those sling things, but you could probably make it work. Then there’s all the bags I’ll need to hold all the stuff to cart this kid from point A to point B.”
“Anna, you’re going to be a good mom.”
She looked at him. She could see in his expression that he heard the fear in her voice. “How do you know?”
“You’re one of the most caring people I know. Sometimes you put on a front and act tough, but I know deep down there is soft goo under the act. It’s why you used to scare me so much, I think.”
“I scared you?”
“Yep. You were this chaotic mess of light and softness. Sometimes I used to worry if I touched you, I might break you. But then I found out you’re strong, too. Lord knows you could always put me in my place. So strong, in spite of all the soft goo I know fills up your heart. You’ll love this baby and that will make you like a lot of other moms. But you’ll protect this baby with ferocity and that is what will make you a great mom.”
She smiled and tried to let what he said fill her up so she could really believe it. Because she desperately wanted to. “Every once in a while you say really nice things.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I think, though, that I’m probably going to be scared until the kid gets here and I can prove to myself I’m nothing like my mother. I mean, what if she was like me in the beginning? Buying stuff and painting rooms, looking forward to meeting me and curious about how I’d be. But then when I was born it all changed.”
Ben looked at his shoes a moment then met her gaze. “You’ve talked about some memories. Ones that weren’t bad. Like the damp cloth on the back of your neck. So she must have cared for you.”
“Yeah, but watching over me when I was sick sort of gets canceled out by the fact she left me. Why did she do that?”