On Halloween, My Husband Kissed His Mistress, and Our Daughter Chose Her Over Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Schedule

Joanna takes her sewing machine and her grandmother's chest from the house while neighbors watch and Brynn wears her robe, and Connor hands her a supervised-visits schedule that Pippa says she asked for.

On Saturday morning I went home to get my things, and half of our street came out to watch.

The older couple next door were raking leaves that were already raked.

The couple across the road stood at the end of their driveway with matching coffee mugs.

Roz parked her van at the curb, and Abraham pulled in behind her in a flatbed truck.

"You don't have to do this," I told him through his window.

"I know," Abraham said. "I'm just here to lift."

He got out and stood on the lawn with his hands in his jacket pockets, and that was all he did.

Connor opened the front door before I could knock.

He was in a pressed shirt, with his good smile on and a mug in his hand.

"Jo. Thank you for coming like an adult."

"I'm here for my list," I said, and held up the legal pad.

"Of course. Take whatever you need."

Behind him in the hall, Brynn came down the stairs.

She was wearing my robe.

It was the plum one my mother gave me, with my initials on the pocket.

"Joanna," Brynn said. She sounded close to tears. "I'm so sorry about how it all came out. I hope we can be friends for Pippa's sake."

I looked at the robe, and then at her, and I felt something in me go very quiet.

"I'm going to start with the sewing room," I said.

Brynn followed me up the stairs the whole way, talking.

She said she had never meant for anyone to be hurt, and she said Pippa had been so brave.

She said she knew I must hate her, and that was okay.

I said nothing at all, because every word I had was going to cost me something.

Pippa's door was shut.

I stopped outside it for the count of three.

There was no sound from inside, not a page turning, not a breath.

I kept walking.

In the sewing room, I unplugged my grandmother's old machine and wrapped the cord around my hand.

Abraham came up behind me without a word and lifted it out of my arms.

"I can carry my own machine," I said.

"It's forty pounds. I'm carrying the table too."

He carried both down the stairs and out to the truck.

Brynn stood on the landing and watched him go with a small, worried frown.

Then I took the cedar chest, my pattern boxes and my mother's ring from the dresser, where Connor had pushed it behind his cufflinks.

In the front hall, my garment bag hung from the coat closet door, empty.

The grey-blue dress was folded over the stair rail, still with the white collar pinned on.

I took the bag.

I left the dress on the rail.

"Joanna, you can have it back," Brynn said from the stairs. "I never wanted to keep it."

"Keep it," I said. "The invoice is in the mail."

Brynn opened her mouth, and then she closed it.

Then I went to the bookshelf for Pippa's baby book.

Connor's hand came down on the shelf in front of me.

"That stays here," he said, pleasantly. "It's Pippa's."

"I made it."

"And you can look at it whenever you visit."

Out on the lawn, the neighbors had stopped raking.

I took my hand off the book and stepped back.

"Whenever I visit," I said.

"That's the other thing." Connor went to the hall table and picked up a folder with my name typed on the tab.

He handed it to me with both hands and a small nod.

Inside was a single page: Proposed Parenting Schedule.

Every other weekend, Saturday ten to six.

Location: a neutral public place, or the family residence.

Supervised by Mr. Ellery or Ms. Ellerbee.

I read the last line twice.

"Supervised," I said.

"Given what the school saw, and with your history of nerves." He sighed.

"I have no history of nerves."

"Jo, I know you're upset, but Pippa is worried about you. We all are."

I looked past his shoulder at the landing.

Pippa had come out of her room.

She stood at the top of the stairs in a grey sweatshirt, with the drawstring pouch hanging against her chest.

Her face was blank and white, and she didn't come down.

"Pippa," I said. "Baby. This isn't what I want. I'm not going anywhere."

She looked at the paper in my hand.

"I asked Dad for the schedule," she said.

Her voice was perfectly flat.

Then she turned around and went back into her room, and shut the door.

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