A Good Mother by Lara Bazelon (classic books to read .TXT) 📕

his palm before sitting down beside Abby and Cal. As usual, he is immaculate: dark suit, white shirt, red tie. Not a crease or a wrinkle, not even a stray piece of lint. “It’s good to get out of the office every once in a while and be out in nature. Or,” he says, and smiles wryly, “what passes for nature.”

Elysian Park has its own dry, dusty beauty. There are wide dirt trails etched into steep hills that surround it, offering spectacular views for those willing to make the trek. A two-lane asphalt road runs through the park’s valley with picnic areas on both sides just like the one they are occupying. On the weekends, they are thick with families, some white, some Black, but mostly brown. The fathers tend to the barbecue, filling the air with the rich smell of roasting meat; the mothers tend to their smaller children while the older ones run around whooping and screaming as the ice-cream truck drives slowly back and forth, playing its endless jingle.

But today is a Tuesday and school has not yet let out. The park is deserted, save for a few nannies and stay-at-home moms who push their toddlers in strollers and baby buggies. Now Abby is one of them.

“You look well. And this guy, do you mind if I—” Paul smiles and reaches out, and Abby holds up Cal for him to take. “Wow, he’s gotten so big.”

Initially, Cal squawks, but he quiets down, even rewarding Paul with a gummy smile after Paul tickles his stomach and makes goo-goo noises that sound impossible coming out of his mouth. He sees Abby staring and says, “I did this with my twins, too, when they were younger.”

Cal grasps at Paul’s watch and Paul takes it off and dangles it. Cal grabs the clasp and puts it in his mouth. When Abby reaches over and gently removes it, he starts to gnaw on her finger.

“He’s teething,” she says.

“So I see.”

For a moment, they sit quietly watching Cal, but he soon tires of the gnawing and lets out another squawk, looking expectantly at Abby. Paul hands him back and averts his gaze while she lifts up her tee shirt and undoes her bra to nurse him. It is a warm day, nearly eighty degrees. Cal is wearing a pale blue onesie; Abby is in shorts and flip-flops. For the first time in years, her legs are tan.

When Cal is settled again, Paul says quietly, “He’s a beautiful baby, Abby. You’re doing a great job.”

She blinks in surprise, then tries her best to look as if the compliments are stray pleasantries. “Thank you,” she says primly.

“How is everything?”

“It’s okay,” she says. “We’re doing okay.”

“Funny, I ran into Nic as I was leaving court to meet you,” Paul says. “Just talking shop. I was asking him about his weekend and he mentioned that the three of you had gone on a short trip.”

“Jonathan and Quinn just bought a place in Seal Beach. They’re planning to use it as a rental property but they want to redo the kitchen and downstairs bathroom, so in the meantime...” She shrugs, then says quietly, “It was just the weekend. We’re not—we’re not reconciled.”

Paul nods. “But maybe,” he says.

“Maybe.” She says the word carefully, testing it out, and then concludes, “But maybe not.” She isn’t sure if it is possible or even if it is what she wants. More important, far more important, was the improvement in the custody situation. She has the seal of approval from Child Protective Services and the judge’s written sign-off. No more supervised visitation. Fifty-fifty custody, which given Nic’s work schedule and her lack of one, has turned into more like eighty-twenty.

“So,” Paul says, “this is your meeting. You want to talk about work?”

She nods.

“You’re welcome back anytime, Abby, but you know you have at least a month left if you want it. More, I’m guessing, because you never take vacation.”

“I should have come to you,” she says abruptly, “during the trial. I should have told you what was happening. You think that, right?”

Paul turns to stare out into the street. They sit silently again, listening to the occasional passing car. Finally, he says, “I said at the outset that you and Will were a team. The team. I didn’t put myself on it. I decided to trust you. Both of you.”

“Which you think now was a mistake.”

“You made some decisions. You both did. Decisions that were not wise.” Paul continues to look out onto the street, his face expressionless. “Will and Meredith are moving back to Oklahoma. He gave his two weeks’ notice. He’s got a visiting professor gig to teach military law at U of O, starting in August. Did you know that?”

“No,” Abby says. A pause and then she adds, “but that’s good. For him, I mean. And Meredith.” One of her arms is starting to ache under Cal’s weight and she shifts position slightly, just enough to relieve the pressure without unsettling him.

“You want to know what I think about the trial.” Paul leans forward, elbows on his knees. “If I had known even the bit that I do, which is far from the full story, would I have intervened? Yeah. Would things have been different? Yeah. But maybe things being different would mean that Luz would be in prison right now. The bottom line is that because of what you did, because of what Will did, and because of what Luz did, she walked. She walked away.”

“A miracle,” Abby says flatly.

Paul shakes his head. “That’s not what it was.”

Once again, Abby is caught off guard. She responds, lightly, “Mr. Estrada called me a holy terror.”

Paul chuckles. “That’s good. I like that.”

Another silence falls. Cal finishes and Abby cradles him with one arm while taking a white cloth from her diaper bag, then puts his body against her chest so that his chin is resting on her shoulder. She rubs his back, smells his delicious baby smell, and waits for him