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Chapter One
The best day of Amanda’s life was also the worst for her career. She went into labor and lost her sense of self in one fell swoop.
Amanda felt her first contraction at the Sheridan House. She’d heaved herself over a cushioned porch chair with a bowl of popcorn and a large bottle of water to watch the seagulls caw over the sound. Max, now three, terrorized the yard in front of the porch, whacking anything he could with a stick, including trees, stones, and the porch railing. Amanda had agreed to watch him while Audrey finished a big story for a magazine upstairs. Being the size of a beached whale meant she couldn’t be as hands-on as Max wanted. “Auntie Amanda!” he called many times. “Come play!”
That was when the contraction shot through her. It was like someone reached into her body and squeezed as tightly as they could. She gasped and winced and waited. Although she’d already read sixteen baby books about labor, delivery, and the first few weeks of childcare, her mind went blank. She wasn’t ready for this!
Audrey heard her from upstairs and burst out through the back door. “Is it happening?”
The contraction faded just then. More were around the corner, though. Amanda could sense it.
“What was it they said?” Amanda muttered. “We go to the hospital when the contractions are how far apart?”
Why couldn’t Amanda remember a single fact about this huge momentous occasion? She was Amanda Harris. She’d graduated at the top of her glass at Rutgers Law School. She could speed-read at a 90 percent comprehension rate. Why had this biological process destroyed her intellect?
Audrey wasn’t used to Amanda not knowing things. “Um? I think like five minutes apart?”
“Didn’t you already do this? Why don’t you remember?” Amanda asked, then hated herself for snapping. Fear was a horrible emotion. It made you into a monster.
Immediately, she added, “I’m sorry. I’m just scared.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Audrey hurried down the steps to pick up Max and take him back inside to prop him in front of the television. She returned with Amanda’s favorite baby book about labor and delivery, Fig Newtons, and her cell phone.
“You should keep working,” Amanda rasped. “You have a deadline.”
“So do you,” Audrey shot back with a laugh. “And yours is more important than mine.”
A few minutes after the third contraction rattled through Amanda, she got ahold of her husband. Sam was the manager at the Sunrise Cove Inn. Although it was only April, tourist season loomed over them, ever approaching, and he had many plans for the upcoming season that kept him at the inn for long hours. “I want to get as much done as I can before the baby comes,” he’d said many times.
When Sam learned Amanda was in labor, his voice jumped up an octave and fell back down. “Okay! Okay. It’s okay. We’re going to have a baby, Amanda! I love you so much!”
Amanda beamed and winced and brought her hands into fists. This was what they wanted. They were building their family.
“I’ll wrap everything up here and come pick you up,” Sam promised.
Amanda thanked him, put down the phone, then squeezed Audrey’s hand so hard during the next contraction that Audrey turned the color of a cucumber.
“Dang, Amanda. Do you lift weights?” Audrey quipped as the contraction faded.
Amanda sputtered with relief after the wave of pain. “You better be glad I don’t.”
Up at the hospital, Amanda was given a beautiful room with a view of the Vineyard Sound. It was early afternoon, and the April light shimmered across the water and lit up the swell of grass outside. Nurses buzzed in and out to make sure she was comfortable and checked her stats. Sam was all set up beside her, smiling goofily between contractions. Amanda’s mother, Susan, arrived not long after that, looking more frantic than Amanda had seen her in years. It took a great deal to rattle Susan Sheridan. Childbirth was no joke. Amanda was a realist, and she knew things went wrong all the time. She also knew that because it was her first, labor could last ten, fifteen, or even up to twenty-four hours. She tried to think of it like a marathon. She had to pace herself.
Aunt Christine and Aunt Lola came up to the hospital soon after. They were ladened with snacks and drinks, smiling prettily. Christine carried her toddler Mia on her hip and said very nice things about labor, like, “It’ll be a breeze for you, Amanda. You’re so strong.” Amanda didn’t believe her at all, but it was still nice to hear. The overwhelming love and support in the Sheridan family was unmatched elsewhere. Sometimes, it was difficult for Amanda to remember the time “before.” Before Susan returned to Martha’s Vineyard to make amends with Grandpa Wes, they’d learned Grandpa Wes hadn’t been the one to have anything to do with Grandma Anna passing so long ago. Before the family had fallen into the warm embrace of countless dinners, celebrations, weddings, and births.
Sometime before six that evening, Amanda did something stupid. She looked at her phone.
In her inbox was an official-looking email from the Massachusetts Board of Bar Overseers. Amanda frowned. Was this really the time to read this?
“Your brother sends his love,” Amanda’s mother said from the window, where she sorted a few bouquets that others had brought to brighten up the room. “I’m sure they’ll come out to visit this month. Everyone will want to meet the new baby!”
Amanda’s heart thudded. “Yeah. Can’t wait to see him.”
She clicked on the email and read:
Dear Attorney Amanda Harris,
