Chapter 11
By the morning of the visit, I had been discharged from the hospital. The incision pulled whenever I stood too quickly, and I still moved as if the floor might tilt beneath me. Nora remained in the NICU, her breathing supported by a thin line of tubing taped to her cheek.
The court order said Lucas could see her under supervision. It didn’t say he could turn the visit into a reunion, or make decisions about her care. Before we entered the family room, I asked the NICU social worker to put the limits in front of everyone.
“Lucas can talk to Nora,” I said. “If he wants to hold her, the nurse decides whether it’s safe. No one takes her from me or the nurse. And the supervisor records the visit.”
Ms. Patel, the social worker, looked from me to the neutral supervisor standing beside her. “Those are reasonable boundaries for the visit. The nurse remains responsible for Nora’s care, and Ms. Bell will document what happens.”
My hands were cold. I tucked them under my arms so nobody would mistake the shaking for uncertainty.
“I want them said out loud before Lucas comes in.”
Ms. Bell nodded. “They will be.”
Thomas waited near the doorway. He had offered to stay, but I’d asked him to let me have one conversation without him standing between me and the people who frightened me.
He pressed my fingers once. “Your choice,” he said, and stepped back.
Lucas came in with Diane behind him. He wore a soft blue sweater and the careful expression he used in photographs: worried, gentle, almost humble. Diane carried a gift bag with a pink ribbon.
“There she is,” she said, smiling at me as if nothing ugly had ever happened between us. “Look at us, all together for Nora.”
Lucas glanced at Ms. Bell’s recorder. “This is supposed to be a family visit.”
“It is a supervised visit with Nora,” Ms. Bell replied. “The boundaries have been explained.”
Diane’s smile tightened. “I’m her grandmother. Surely we don’t need to make everything sound so cold.”
I looked at the gift bag. I could see a white blanket inside, folded carefully enough to look like a peace offering.
“Then don’t make it cold,” I said. “Just respect what the nurse says.”
Lucas’s eyes settled on my face. “I’m not here to fight, Ava.”
“You don’t get to decide what this is for me.”
For a moment, his expression slipped. The familiar impatience showed through, then disappeared beneath his public concern.
The nurse wheeled Nora in her bassinet. She was so small beneath the blanket that the cap on her head seemed almost too large. A tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows as the nurse checked the tubing and adjusted the blanket.
“There’s my girl,” Lucas murmured.
The nurse explained that Nora was stable enough to be held, but she needed to stay connected to her breathing support. She settled the baby into my arms, careful with every line. Warmth spread through my chest. Nora’s cheek rested against me, softer than the hospital blanket beneath her.
Lucas leaned closer. “Let me hold her.”
The nurse didn’t move. “I’ll decide when we’re ready to transfer her.”
“I’m her father,” he said.
“And I’m her nurse,” she answered, calm as a closed door.
Nora began to cry. Her face scrunched, her breath fluttering against the tubing. Every part of me wanted to fold around her. I held her securely and called for the nurse, who checked the line and spoke softly to Nora.
Lucas reached out.
I shifted Nora closer to my chest. “No.”
His hand stopped in the air. “You’re keeping me from my daughter.”
“I’m following what the nurse said.”
Diane let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Listen to yourself. You’re making a scene because he wants to hold his own baby.”
My pulse beat hard in my throat. Shame rose quickly, the old reflex that told me to smooth things over before anyone got angry. But Nora was crying, and Lucas was still reaching.
“Ms. Bell,” I said. “He’s trying to take her before the nurse says she’s ready.”
Ms. Bell stepped between Lucas and me. “Mr. Collins, step back. The nurse will decide whether a transfer is appropriate.”
He lowered his hand, but his face had gone rigid. “I asked. I didn’t grab her.”
“You were told the boundary before you came in,” I said.
Diane moved beside him, her voice softening into the tone she used when she wanted a threat to sound like concern. “Ava, don’t turn this into a record of you refusing to let Nora have her family.”
Ms. Patel’s gaze sharpened. “The record will reflect what happens here.”
Diane leaned toward Lucas and whispered, “You’ll lose her once Daniel finishes helping us.”
Her voice was low, but the room was quiet. Ms. Bell’s small recorder sat on the table between us, its red light steady.
Diane looked at it. Then at me.
I felt the words land—not as a new threat, but as confirmation. She still believed Daniel was working behind the scenes to help them get what they wanted.
Ms. Bell rose. “The visit is over.”
Lucas’s face changed again, the gentleness dropping away. “You can’t end it because my mother said something you didn’t like.”
“I can end the visit when a participant violates the boundaries,” Ms. Bell said. “I’ve recorded what was said.”
Diane grabbed the gift bag from the chair. “This is what happens when you let her control everything.”
“No,” I said, and looked down at Nora. Her crying had eased against me. “This is what happens when I don’t let you.”
Ms. Patel asked Lucas and Diane to leave. Lucas lingered for one last look at Nora, as if I had taken something from him. Then Ms. Bell accompanied them into the hall.
The nurse returned Nora to her bassinet, checked her breathing support, and walked beside me as I left the room. My arms felt empty immediately, but I didn’t turn back. Thomas had gone to my temporary apartment to collect the prescriptions I’d left on the kitchen counter.
My phone rang before we reached the NICU doors.
“Dad?”
“I’m at the apartment,” he said. The strain in his voice stopped me. “Ava, the lock is broken.”
I gripped the phone. “Did you go inside?”
“No.” His breath caught. “The door’s not open, but the lock is damaged. I can’t tell you whether anyone got in.”
Behind me, the NICU doors sealed shut with a soft hiss. I looked at Nora’s nurse, then at the phone in my hand.
“Stay where you are,” I said.
May you like
“I am.”
And somewhere between my daughter’s guarded room and the apartment I’d thought was safe, the next danger was already waiting.
