Not yet grown, she snapped.You’re holding him wrong!
The shriek cut through the quiet park, sharp and sudden, but Emily didnt flinch. Over the past months shed heard that voice so often that it no longer startled her. Her former motherinlaw, Dorothy Hughes, always appeared at the worst possible moment.
Emily turned slowly, pulling her infant son close. Eightmonthold Ethan cooed softly against her shoulder, snug in his warm onesie. It was a weekday; the park was almost empty, only a few hurried walkers wrapped in coats.
Good morning, Mrs Hughes, Emily said calmly.
Dorothy brushed off the greeting as if swatting an annoying fly. Her face was flushed with anger and the chill of the air. She stepped closer, lips pressed together, appraising the child.
What are you doing? Dorothys voice rang with outrage. Do you realize what youre doing? Its freezing out there! My grandson is dressed so lightly! Hell catch a cold! Do you want the boy to get sick?
Emily glanced at Ethan. He wore a onesie, a warm hat and a scarfappropriate for the weather.
Mrs Hughes, its plus eight degrees. Hes dressed fine, Emily replied.
Fine? Dorothy moved another step forward. Do you even know how a child should be held? This will ruin his posture! Hell become a hunchback. And look how thin he is! Are you starving him?
Emily clenched her jaw. Ethan was perfectly healthy; the paediatrician praised his development at every checkup. Yet Dorothys tirade continued.
And these walks of yours! Two hours a day, dragging the baby around in the wind! Are you joking with him? He needs warmth and rest, not this gale! Mother
Emily shifted Ethan to her other arm. The baby squirmed, opened his eyes, then drifted back to sleep.
Mrs Hughes, can we please
No, can we? Dorothy interjected. Lets! You think you know how to raise children! Ive brought up three, and you? This is your first child and you think youre the expert! Clever, arent you?
Inside Emily felt her world contract. This barrage of accusations was painfully familiar. Every visit from Dorothy turned into an interrogation; each encounter felt like a trial.
And you, Dorothy stepped even closer, eyes flashing, are the cause of everything! Youve torn this family apart! My son was happy until you turned his life into a circus! You drove him away! Youve deprived the child of a father! All because of you!
Emily stood frozen. The words echoed in her head. Was she to blame for the familys collapse?
We have to go, Emily whispered, turning away.
Running from me? Dorothy shouted after her. Do you see how youve ruined my sons life? And his childs too!
Emily quickened her pace, the park receding behind her, the accusations fading with each step. Ethan stirred but stayed asleep. Dorothys voice faded into the distance, and Emily finally exhaled, her hands trembling, her heart pounding in her throat. How could Dorothy claim the blame rested on Emily?
Memories surged. That night, the flat. The door Emily opened an hour early. Her exhusband, Simon Clarke, and another woman shared the bedroom.
Emily hadnt screamed. She hadnt wept. She simply began packing his things. Simon tried to justify himself, stammering about mistakes that meant nothing. Emily pointed to the door. Three days later she filed for divorce.
Two weeks after that she discovered she was pregnant and told Simon, who was still living there.
Dorothy burst in that afternoon, pounding on the door until Emily opened.
Cancel the divorce! the motherinlaw bellowed from the threshold. What are you doing? Youre pregnant! A child needs both parents! You must forgive my son! Youre in the wrong, my dear!
Emily leaned against the wall, exhausted, while Dorothy ranted on.
He erred. Men make mistakes; thats what they are. But youre a womanyou must forgive, think of the family, think of the child!
What child? Emily asked quietly. The one wholl be ashamed of his father?
Shame? Dorothy flared. You should be ashamed! Youre destroying a family out of pride! Selfishness! Do you think a child will grow up without a father? Wed overlook anything for the childs sake!
Emily closed her eyes.
Mrs Hughes, please leave, she said.
I wont go! Dorothy stomped. I wont leave until you see sense! Youre stubborn, ruining your childs future, you obstinate girl
Emilys divorce never stopped. The paperwork tore the tie with Simon, and Ethan was bornsmall, warm, entirely hers.
She never claimed child support, never listed Simon as a father. He made it clear he wanted no part of the boy. Emily worked from home, earned a good salary, and her mother helped whenever she needed a break. Simon never called, never asked whether it was a boy or a girl, never inquired about health. It was clear from the start he cared nothing.
Dorothy, however, hovered on every side. She turned up at the maternity ward uninvited, bouquet in hand.
What did you name him? she asked the moment Emily emerged with the baby cradled.
Ethan, Emily replied.
The motherinlaws face twisted.
Ethan? Why not Charlie, after my father? I told you what I wanted
You said so, Mrs Hughes, but hes my son and I chose the name I liked.
Dorothy clenched her jaw but said nothing.
Visits became a routine. Dorothy appeared five times a week, no warning, just at the door, demanding to see her grandson. She offered endless advicehow to feed, swaddle, bathe, put to sleep, hold, and walk him.
Emily endured, nodding politely, doing things her own way. One day she finally snapped.
Mrs Hughes, enough! Emily shouted when Dorothy began another tirade about the formula. Stop telling me what to do! Hes my child, and I know how to care for him!
Dorothys face paled, then flushed bright red.
Youre shouting at me? she demanded.
Yes, I am! Emily met her gaze. I cant take it any longer. You come here every day and undermine me, criticize me, accuse me. Im fed up!
Dorothy turned and left, stomping loudly. After that she came less oftentwice a weekbut each visit still felt like torture.
Back in her flat, Emily lifted Ethan onto the sofa, his tiny breaths steady. Dorothys accusations still rang in her ears: You destroyed the family. Was it really her fault, or Simons betrayal? She had simply wanted to bring a child into the world and raise him.
Ethan slept, his little smile forming in his dreams. Emily whispered, Everythings as it should be.
Two weeks passed in a quiet lull. Dorothy didnt appear, didnt call. Emily began to hope she had finally been left alone. Then, on a Saturday morning, a sharp knock rattled the door.
Emily opened it to find Dorothy standing there.
Hello, she said breezily, slipping past Emily into the flat.
Emily froze as Dorothy bent over Ethan, cooing, My dear grandson, my sweet little bunny!
Emily followed, arms crossed.
Whats happening? she asked.
Dorothy turned, smile bright. Tomorrows the christening! Ive arranged everythingchurch, godparents, the whole lot!
Emily stared, stunned.
The christening Dorothy repeated, as if stating the obvious. Tomorrow at twop.m. I chose a lovely parish, found excellent godparents, everythings set.
Emily stepped forward. You cant decide when my sons christening will be!
Dorothys smile hardened. I can. Who else will decide? You, little girl?
My Emily exhaled, anger bubbling. Im his mother!
You? Dorothy sneered. Youre young and foolish! You know nothing! Im experienced, I know whats right! You must obey me, because you cant raise a boy on your own! Youre not grown enough.
Something inside Emily ignited, a hot flare of all the months of hurt and humiliation.
You have no right to be here! Not a single one! Emily shouted.
Dorothy took a step back.
What? He lives here! she protested.
Not on paper! Emily retorted. In his birth certificate theres a blank where the fathers name should be. Legally he has no father, so you have no grandson! Until that changes, you stay out!
Dorothys face turned ashen; her lips trembled with fury.
Youre kicking me out? she whispered.
Yes, Emily said firmly. Leave.
Dorothy snatched her bag and fled. Ethan wailed in the hallway. Emily scooped him up, pressing him close. Its all right, love. Its all right, she murmured.
A week of silence passed. Then the door knocked again.
Emily opened to see two figures: Dorothy, and Simon, looking tired and irritated. Dorothy clutched his elbow as if fearing hed run.
Hello, Emily, Simon muttered without meeting her eyes.
Dorothy pushed Simon forward. Look, Simon, this is your son! You need to officially acknowledge him! You must!
Simon glanced at the child, then turned away.
Emily leaned against the doorframe, watching his stubborn expression. She knew exactly what to do.
Ill apply for maintenance, she said evenly.
Simons face twisted. What?
Maintenance, Emily repeated. You earn well, Simon. The court will award a fair sum.
His jaw clenched. I dont want this child. Leave me alone! Im done!
He stormed out, Dorothy trailing, shouting, Simon! Simon, wait! Because of you I cant see my grandson! Do you understand?
You dont matter to me! his voice echoed from the stairwell.
Emily closed the door, cradled Ethan, and felt a faint smile tug at her lips. The plan had worked: Simon didnt want the boy, and Dorothy had finally been driven away.
She breathed out, finally free to raise her son in peace.
The lesson lingered in her mind: when love is earnest and the will is steadfast, even the most relentless interference can be turned aside, and a single mother can carve out a life of her own, guided by her own judgment rather than the judgments of others.
