Not ready yet youre holding him wrong!
The shout came out sharp and sudden, but Emma didnt flinch. Shed heard that voice a lot lately her exmotherinlaw, always popping up at the worst possible moment.
Emma turned slowly, cradling her eightmonthold son, Jack, who was snuggled in a cosy onesie, gently puffing on her shoulder. The park was almost empty on a weekday; a few hurried walkers hurried past, jackets pulled tight against the chill.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Harper, Emma said, flatly.
Mrs. Harper brushed off the greeting like a bothersome fly. Her cheeks were flushed from anger and the cold. She stepped closer, lips pressed, eyes fixed on the baby.
What are you doing? Do you even realise what youre doing? Its freezing out there and youve dressed my grandson so lightly! Hell catch a chill, you know?
Emma glanced at Jack his snowsuit, warm hat and scarf were perfectly suited to the weather.
Its only plus eight degrees, Mrs. Harper. Hes dressed fine.
Fine? the older woman snapped, moving another step forward. Do you even know how youre supposed to hold a child? Thatll ruin his posture hell end up slouching. And look at him, so skinny! Are you starving him?
Emma clenched her jaw. Jack was thriving; the paediatrician praised his development at every checkup. Still, Mrs. Harper kept pressing.
Those long walks are yours, not his! Two hours outside every day are you joking? He needs warmth and rest, not a gust of wind on his face!
Emma shifted Jack to her other arm. The little boy squirmed, opened his eyes, then drifted back to sleep.
Mrs. Harper, can we just
Just what? Stop! Lets stop then! You dont know a thing about raising kids. Ive brought up three children, and you? Youre a firsttime mum acting like youve got it all figured out. Clever, arent you?
Emma felt her chest tighten. The barrage of accusations was all too familiar. Each visit from her former motherinlaw turned into an interrogation, each meeting a little piece of hell.
Honestly, Mrs. Harper stepped even closer, eyes flashing, its all your fault! Youve torn this family apart. My son was happy until you caused this circus. You drove him out, left the child fatherless all because of you!
Emma stood still, the words echoing in her head. Was she really to blame for the breakup?
We should be going, Emma whispered, turning away.
Youre running from me? Mrs. Harper shouted after her. Youve ruined my sons life and his grandsons too!
Emma quickened her pace, her legs carrying her away from the park, away from the yelling, away from the blame. Jack squirmed but stayed asleep. Mrs. Harpers voice faded behind her, until the distance was enough for Emma to finally breathe. Her hands trembled, her heart thumped in her throat.
She remembered that night in the flat the door shed opened an hour early, her exhusband Mark and his new girlfriend in their bedroom. Emma didnt scream or cry; she just started packing his things. Mark tried to explain, stammered about mistakes, but Emma pointed at the door. Three days later she filed for divorce.
Two weeks after that, she discovered she was pregnant and told Mark, who was still her ex. Mrs. Harper turned up at the door, banging hard enough that Emma finally opened it.
Cancel the divorce! the old lady shrieked. Youre pregnant! The baby needs both parents! You must forgive my son! Youre not in the right place, dear!
Emma leaned against the wall, exhausted, while Mrs. Harper kept on:
Men mess up, thats what they do. But youre a woman you should forgive, think of the family, think of the child!
What child? Emma asked softly. The one wholl be ashamed of his father?
Shame? How dare you! You should be the one feeling shame! Youre ruining a family because of your pride, your selfishness! Imagine a child growing up without a dad you think its a big deal? Well turn a blind eye for the sake of the child!
Emma closed her eyes.
Mrs. Harper, please leave.
I wont go! the woman stomped. I wont leave until you change your mind! Youre being stubborn, ruining your childs future, you obstinate girl
But Emma didnt back down. The divorce went through, Mark was out, and Jack was born a tiny, warm little boy, Emmas and hers alone.
She never claimed child support. She didnt even list Mark as the father; hed made it clear he didnt want the child. Emma worked from home, earned a decent wage, and her own mother helped out when she needed a break. Mark never called to ask about the baby, never cared.
Mrs. Harper, however, kept pressing. She turned up at the hospital for the birth uninvited, holding a massive bouquet.
What did you name him? she asked as soon as Emma emerged, baby in her arms.
Jack, Emma replied.
Mrs. Harpers face twisted.
Jack? Why not Charlie, after my father? I told you what I wanted
You said what you wanted, Mrs. Harper, but this is my son and I chose his name.
The old lady bit her lip and said nothing more.
Afterwards, Mrs. Harper started dropping in five times a week, no warning, just showing up at the door demanding to see her grandson. She offered endless advice how to feed, swaddle, bathe, put him to sleep, even how to carry him on walks. Emma listened politely, nodded, and did things her own way.
One day she finally snapped.
Mrs. Harper, thats enough! Emma shouted as the woman started criticizing the formula again. Stop telling me what to do! Hes my baby, I know whats best for him!
Mrs. Harper went from whitepale to beetred in an instant.
Youre shouting at me?
Yes, I am! Emma didnt look away. Im fed up. You come every day, you poison me with your constant criticism and blame. I cant take it any longer!
Mrs. Harper turned and stormed out, stomping loudly. After that she showed up only twice a week, but each visit still felt like torture.
Now the peace was gone. Emma got home, climbed the stairs to her flat, and put Jack into his cot, pulled off her coat, and sank onto the sofa. The echo of Mrs. Harpers words You destroyed the family lingered. Wasnt it Mark who shattered all the plans? Hed abandoned them, not her. Emma just wanted to raise her child.
Jack sighed softly in his cot. Emma brushed his blanket, and a tiny smile crossed her face. Everythings as it should be, she murmured to herself.
Two weeks passed quietly. Mrs. Harper hadnt called or turned up, and Emma began to hope. Then, on a Saturday morning, there was a sharp knock at the door.
Emma opened it to find Mrs. Harper on the doorstep.
Hello, she said breezily, stepping straight into the flat.
Emma barely managed a response before Mrs. Harper lunged into the nursery where Jack was playing with his soft toys. She bent down, cooing, My little bunny, my sweet darling!
Emma followed, arms crossed.
Whats happening? she asked.
Mrs. Harper beamed. Tomorrow well have the christening! Ive arranged everything the church, the godparents, the whole lot!
Emma stared at her.
What?!
The christening tomorrow at two oclock. I chose a lovely parish, found great godparents. All set.
Emma stepped forward, anger rising.
You cant decide when my sons christening will be!
Mrs. Harper straightened, her smile turning hard.
I can. Who else is going to decide? You, you little brat?
Its my baby, Im the mother!
You? Youre young and naïve! You know nothing! Ive lived long enough to know whats right. You cant raise a child on your own, you havent grown up yet.
Something inside Emma ignited. All the months of hurt, the insults, the humiliation they surged like a blaze.
You have no right to be here! Not a single reason!
Mrs. Harper took a step back.
How can that be? My grandson lives here!
Not on paper, Emma replied, moving closer. In his birth certificate theres no father listed. Legally, you have no grandson. Until that changes, youre not welcome.
Mrs. Harpers face went pale, her lips trembled.
You youre kicking me out?
Yes, Emma said firmly. Leave now.
Mrs. Harper snatched her bag and bolted out. Jack started to whimper. Emma lifted him, pressed him to her chest, and whispered, Its okay, love, its okay.
A week of silence followed. Then the doorbell rang again.
Emma opened it to see Mrs. Harper standing there with Mark, looking tired and irritable. Mark clutched his elbow as if afraid hed bolt.
Hello, Emma, Mark grunted, not meeting her eyes.
Mrs. Harper pushed Mark into the flat, her grip tight. Emma barely had time to react. The old woman shoved Mark into the nursery.
Look! she shouted, pointing at Jack. Hes your son! You must legally acknowledge him!
Mark glanced at the child, then turned away.
Emma leaned against the doorframe, watching Marks stubborn expression. She knew what she had to do.
Ill be applying for child support, she said evenly.
Mark twitched, eyes widening.
What?!
Child support, Emma repeated. You earn well, Mark. The court will grant a fair amount.
Marks face twisted in disgust.
I dont want this child. Leave me alone! Im done with all of this!
He stormed out, and Mrs. Harper chased after him.
Mark! Wait! Because of you I cant see my grandson! she yelled. Do you understand?
I dont give a toss! Mark shouted from the hallway, I dont care about you or the baby!
Emma shut the door, turned to Jack, who reached out his tiny hands. She lifted him, held him close, and a genuine smile spread across her face. The plan had worked Mark didnt want his son, and Mrs. Harper finally out of the picture.
Now she could finally breathe.
