At first, it had been easy to write off her aloofness as exhaustion. Penny slept as she pleased, preferring to nap during the day in our arms. We’d given up the idea of the nursery entirely, moving the bassinet to Belle’s side of the bed within a few days of our return. That had worked for a while. I was more able to sleep through her newborn cries, so I took it upon myself to get up with her in the morning, so my wife could sleep. It was hard, but every time I looked into Penny’s gray-blue eyes, I knew it was worth it. Belle slept better when I had the baby off in another room. But lately, she resisted waking up when Penny needed to nurse.
I told myself I couldn’t blame her.
As the weeks passed, I found myself more aware of Penny’s cries, waking more easily to help with midnight changes and feedings. Belle would nurse her, pass her back to me, and roll over to sleep. It wasn’t that I minded. I didn’t. It was that I wasn’t sure if we’d simply developed a survival routine, so that we all got what we needed, or if we were going through the motions.
“Pictures in the morning,” Belle murmured, sliding beneath the sheets and rolling toward the side of the bed where Penny had finally fallen asleep.
I turned to her, rubbing her thigh, and kissed her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up for it? Pictures can wait.”
“We barely have time to send cards as it is,” she said glumly. “We have a new house and a new baby. People will expect them.”
“Who cares what they expect?” I said gently. She went rigid next to me.
“I can handle a simple task like Christmas cards,” she snapped. Penny stirred, her whole body wiggling in its swaddle, and both of us froze. We’d grown used to holding our breath, worried that we’d accidentally woken her. When Penny remained asleep, Belle shifted slightly, so that my hand fell from her waist. “Good night.”
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to clear this up. I hadn’t meant to upset her. I’d only meant to remind her that we didn’t need to worry about silly things like cards if it was going to make her more stressed out. But somehow I knew that staying so would only make matters worse. Instead, I settled for planting a kiss behind her ear. “Love you, beautiful.”
She didn’t respond. I told myself she’d already fallen asleep. She’d had a rough day. But I’d been telling myself that a lot lately, and I was having a hard time believing it myself. I laid next to her, staring at the ceiling, until sleep took me.
A mewling cry shattered the darkness and I rolled over, rubbing my bleary eyes. My hand reached to find Belle’s side of the bed cold and empty. “Need help?”
The only response was Penny’s cry. I sat up, instantly alert, flipping on the lamp on my nightstand. Belle sat on the edge of the bed, her head tilted toward the bassinet, one hand on its edge. At first, I thought she was rocking it, but neither she nor the bassinet moved. She must have fallen asleep like this, trying to get the baby back down. Penny grew more insistent, and I leapt up, circling the bed to the wicker bassinet. But when I reached it, I found Belle staring at the baby, her unblinking eyes rimmed with red from tears.
“Beautiful,” I said gently, leaning to pick Penny up.
She startled slightly, finally lifting her face to mine. I took a step back when her eyes met mine. It was obvious she’d been crying but that wasn’t what stunned me. I’d looked into her eyes a thousand times and known exactly what she was thinking: fear, excitement, joy. There was nothing there now. They were as void as a pool of still water at night.
I swallowed, worry pricking at the back of my mind. “Get some rest. I’ll take her to the nursery for a bit.”
She didn’t respond. She only crept toward the pillow and rolled away from me, wrapping her knees to her chest. I paused, wondering if I should ask her to talk, but Penny began to cry and I spotted Belle’s shoulders shake a little as she began to cry again. Stroking Penny’s back and shushing her softly, I tiptoed from the room and closed the door behind me.
Penny continued to fuss as I carried her to the nursery, but a few minutes later, she settled in a sleepy bundle against my shoulder as I rocked her. If only I could soothe her mother as easily. The only thing that seemed to help Belle was when we weren’t around.
Looking down at Penny, I marveled as her eyelids fluttered as she slept, sleepy smiles dancing on and off her face. I loved every moment she was in my arms—and I wanted Belle to feel the same way. I thought of her sitting on the edge of that bed and wondered how long she’d been there before I’d woken up. No matter how many times I told her to wake me or reminded her I was happy to get up with Penny, she never asked me to. She’d stopped asking me for much of anything. I loved her more than ever, and I’d never felt so disconnected from her. I wanted to make this right, but how do you make someone happy if you’re what upsets them?
“Okay, can you lift the baby a little higher?” the photographer coaxed as I paced nervously around the sitting room. Belle obliged, holding Penny up under the arms as she gurgled. My wife and daughter were dressed as similarly as a grown woman and a six-week old could be.Penny in a cream top with a Peter Pan collar, navy short pants and a small bow. She’s swept her hair up, pinning it into a twist. Between that and the cashmere sweater that draped elegantly off her shoulder, she looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine. “That’s it. Now smile.”
Belle’s lips widened into a smile that I’d never seen before. It didn’t belong to her. It was like looking at a stranger. She’d chosen to do the photos in front of our Christmas tree. Humphrey had overseen its erection and decorated it, a few days ago, at my request. Someday, the three of us would decorate our tree together and have our own traditions. This year, I didn’t want to add any more chaos to our plates. The remodel had only finished last week despite having crews here around the clock—another sore point likely contributing to her stress. I’d been sure that as things settled down, Belle would finally feel at ease in our new home.
But the woman sitting in front of the Christmas tree was a stranger. An odd wave of protectiveness surged through me, and I fought the desire to take Penny out of her arms. It was unfair of me. Belle adored our daughter. That was clear. As often as I caught her crying, I found her rocking Penny to sleep, pure adoration written across her face.
“They’re going to be terrible,” Belle complained after the photographer had packed up and left. She shifted on her feet, swaying with Penny, who’d fallen asleep.
“No picture of the two of you could be terrible.” I refused to even entertain the thought. Belle was the most perfect creature I’d ever seen, and our daughter already looked like a miniature version of her.
She opened her mouth to protest, but her mobile rang. I held out my arms and she passed Penny to me. I wandered the room as Belle took the call. We’d opted to keep many of the classic touches that showcased Thornham’s history. It had cost a small fortune to rehab the room’s crown moulding with its original swirls and flourishes. In the end, we’d opted to paint the entirety of the space a warm white which made the room feel open and airy—no small feat in a home of this age. To keep it from looking too modern, we’d opted for opulent velvet furniture in deep shades of blue and tables with rich, deep woodtones. The persian rug drew the entire space together and made it elegant and inviting. We’d settled on most of these details before Penny was born, and I found myself grateful, we had, since I couldn’t imagine worrying about such trivial fucking things now. Despite our foresight, we still had no dining room table. It wouldn’t arrive until after the new year, and my study consisted of a desk, empty shelves, and dozens of boxes waiting to be unpacked. My office in town was available if I needed a space to work, although I wouldn’t be taking clients until Penny was a bit older.