Chapter 1

After I lost the baby, my mother-in-law, Linda Brooks, changed in ways I couldn't put into words.

She stopped asking how I was healing. Instead, she drifted through the house tossing out little comments that wedged under my skin like splinters.

"Some people run around sleeping with whoever they want," she'd say, loud enough for me to hear, "and now they want everyone to feel sorry for them."

I figured she was worried about what the neighbors might think, so I bit my tongue and let it slide.

My husband, David Brooks, kept smoothing things over. "My mom's all talk," he'd tell me, squeezing my hand. "She doesn't mean it as it sounds."

Then came that night when thirst woke me up. I was halfway down the hall toward the kitchen when their low voices stopped me in my tracks.

"Mom, enough with the act. She's already been through hell," David said.

"I'm not acting. I'm telling the truth. That baby was never—"

*****

I had a miscarriage. The doctor said I needed rest.

Linda brought me a bowl of canned tomato soup and set it on the table with a heavy clunk.

I picked up my spoon. The soup was cold, and my hand was shaking.

Linda sat across from me, the TV blaring some reality show.

She spoke without looking away from the screen. "Some people just don't have the luck for it."

Her voice wasn't loud, but every word hit me square in the chest.

I lifted my eyes to her, but her gaze stayed locked on the television.

"Too fragile to keep anything. Always out gallivanting around. Well, now you see what happens," Linda said.

My stomach knotted. My spoon scraped against the bowl, a sharp, ugly sound.

I set it down. "Linda, the soup's cold."

Linda didn't turn her head. "You should be grateful there's food on the table. Stop acting so high and mighty. You think you're still the pregnant princess around here?"

I stared at her. Her face was hard as stone.

When I was pregnant, she was a different person. She made me mac and cheese from scratch, hot chocolate with whipped cream, always telling me to eat up while it was warm.

Now, all I got was a cold bowl of soup and a side of cruelty.

The front door opened. David walked in. His eyes went to the soup on the table, then to me. "Babe, why aren't you eating?"

I didn't answer.

Linda jumped in before I could open my mouth. "She says the soup's too cold."

David looked thrown for a second. He stepped over and touched the side of the bowl. It was ice cold.

He frowned. "Mom, Claire's fresh out of surgery. She can't have cold food right now."

Linda swiveled around. "I was busy and forgot, okay? Wasn't taking care of her for ten months enough? Now I'm the bad guy?"

She stood up, her face twisted with hurt. "Here I am running myself ragged, and for what? Nobody around here bothers to say thank you."

David rushed to her side, steadying her by the arm. "Mom, that's not what I meant. Claire's not feeling well. She's a wreck right now. Cut her some slack, okay?"

He shot me a pointed look while he patted Linda's back.

Linda let out a sharp laugh. "Give her a break? What about me? I've been waiting forever for a grandkid, and now there's nothing. Who's supposed to feel sorry for me?"

Her words were a knife, twisting right in the deepest wound I had.

I looked at David, hoping he would stand up for our lost child and me.

But he only sighed, guided Linda back to the couch, and picked up the soup bowl. "I'll heat it in the microwave."

He disappeared into the kitchen. That left me and Linda in the living room.

Linda piped up again, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Poor guys, honestly. Out grinding all day to bring home a paycheck, then they walk through the door and have to play butler to their wives.

"Guess getting married means signing up to worship the queen."

I dug my nails into my palm beneath the edge of my sweater.

David came back with the steaming bowl and placed it in front of me.

"Here you go, babe. Eat up," he said softly. His eyes were full of sympathy. "My mom's got a sharp tongue but a good heart.

"She's hurting too. Don't take it personally."

I looked at my husband. He was the man I thought I could count on.

I lifted the spoon and ate slowly, one mouthful after another. The soup was hot now, but inside, I was frozen solid.

A tear slipped down my cheek and landed in the bowl. I ducked my head and finished the soup as fast as I could.

David took the empty bowl. "That's better. You've got to keep your strength up."

He ruffled my hair gently. I didn't lean into it, and I didn't pull away.

*****

That night, David slid into bed beside me. "My mom was a little rough around the edges today.

"Don't be mad at her. She's worried about you, that's all."

I lay there staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open in the dark.

Worried about me? She was worried I would make the Brooks family look bad.

"I know," I whispered. I was too tired to fight.

"I'm glad you understand," David said. He rolled over and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Once you're feeling stronger, we can try again for another one."