Page 132 of Finding Amanda

“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked.

“They’ll be here in five minutes.”

Five?Nice warning.

Amanda wanted to see Sophie and Madi, she did. She couldn’t wait to introduce them to their new brother.

It wasn’t them she dreaded.

Mark settled on the edge of the bed again and tucked a lock of her hair away from her face. “Mom promised to be nice.”

“It’s fine.”

“If she isn’t, I’ll send her away.” He took Amanda’s hand and squeezed. “He’s her grandson. We have to give her a chance.”

“I know.” Hard as it was, she didn’t disagree with Mark. Her parents would be in town by the time she was released from the hospital. Mark’s father and stepmom would come down at some point to meet the new baby. But Mrs. Johnson had offered to start driving down the minute Amanda went into labor. She’d seemed eager to spend time with the girls.

Amanda went to the restroom to freshen up. She looked tired. Shewastired. But also, happy. Happier than she’d ever been.

She wouldn’t let Mark’s mother ruin it.

She brushed her teeth and hair, then changed into a fresh T-shirt and pajama pants. Her stomach still protruded, all squishy and ugly. But she’d had a baby. Surely, the dragon lady wouldn’t criticize her for a post-baby body.

Why did Amanda care? The woman had never liked her.

After she’d been assigned to bed rest, Mrs. Johnson had called and offered to come help with the girls. It had been so out of character that both Mark and Amanda had been stunned speechless. For a second. And then Mark had gently—but firmly—refused.

Not that they hadn’t forgiven her for meddling in their marriage, but forgiveness was one thing. Trusting her not to do it again was another thing entirely.

They’d avoided her at Christmas. Mark had taken the girls to see her twice this year—for a couple of hours at a time, no more.

Amanda hadn’t seen his mother since the whole crazy incident last fall.

She hadn’t felt sad at the loss.

But the dragon lady had started calling Amanda every day, just to check on her. And she’d been surprisingly . . . nice on the phone.

She’d sent a few boxes. Not showy, expensive gifts, either, but thoughtful things. A new cookbook she thought Amanda would appreciate. Two easels and paints for the girls. A box of summer sausages and cheeses for Mark. At Easter, she’d sent a gift card so Amanda could pick out dresses for herself and the girls—along with a huge box of candy.

As if she wanted to make amends.

It was just . . . weird.

Amanda was afraid to trust it. When a knock sounded on the hospital room door, she braced herself.

Mark peeked into the bathroom, still holding the baby. “You ready?”

She gave herself one more look, critiquing her hair that needed washing and her pale skin, which highlighted the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

She was who she was, and if Patricia Johnson didn’t like it, that was her problem.

Besides, Sophie and Madi were here. They were the ones Amanda wanted to see.

Mark waited until Amanda was back in the bed, then handed her the baby. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love you.”

How could she feel anything but pure joy? “I love you.”

He slid a hand down her hair. “You, me, our daughters and our son”—his voice hitched—“and God. That’s all that matters.” He walked down the short hallway beside the bathroom and opened the door. She couldn't see him from her bed.

---