Chapter Text
“Every child deserves an education that celebrates their uniqueness while guiding them toward success.”
A yawn escaped Heather’s lips as she stared at the words on her laptop screen. They were part of the mission statement for one of Pittsburgh’s top private schools. As she took in the information, she reached for a handful of grapes from the bowl beside her laptop and munched on them, savoring their sweetness. She was sitting at the kitchen counter, wrapped in a thick robe, the glow of the screen lighting her face in the otherwise darkness of the house.
The website had pictures of bright classrooms, smiling teachers and children wearing neat uniforms. In some pictures, the children were playing flutes and violins. In others, they were writing, painting, coding.
As Heather clicked through the pictures, she felt her baby kicking inside her. She smiled, rubbing her belly. “You can’t sleep either, can you?” she whispered. It still felt surreal that she was mere weeks away from meeting her.
During the first six months of this pregnancy, Heather had struggled with anxiety over whether she would miscarry again. But now that she was firmly in the third trimester, she could finally look toward the future. Part of that meant ensuring her daughter was set up for success. That thought had been heavy on Heather’s mind when she’d crept out of bed early that morning and headed downstairs, careful not to wake Robby or her parents, who were sleeping in one of the guest rooms. They had flown in from Portland a few days ago, just in time for the baby shower.
Heather had felt so loved that day. Her older sister Simone had organized everything. She’d decorated the lower level of the house, filling the space with balloons, string lights, games and catered food. She’d ordered a custom three‑tier cake and a tower of French macarons in flavors like pistachio, vanilla and blueberry. Simone had also set up a large balloon arch in the living room, where friends and family had gathered to pose for pictures with Heather, using props like “It’s a girl!” signs and flower crowns.
Heather’s eyes had filled with tears of gratitude when she’d seen the large, custom banner announcing the baby’s name in sparkly gold letters – Lyla Eliana. Robby had chosen her first name, in memory of his grandmother, Delilah, but the middle name had been Heather’s suggestion. In Hebrew, Eliana meant “God has answered”, and while neither Heather nor Robby felt too strongly about religion, the name had felt right. For so long, a baby had seemed like an impossible dream. But now, that dream was growing stronger each day, preparing to make her entrance into the world.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs pulled Heather out of her thoughts. Robby soon appeared in the entrance of the kitchen, wearing his scrubs. He paused when he saw Heather sitting at the counter, like he wasn’t expecting to see her there.
“I was wondering where you snuck off to,” Robby said. “What time did you get up?”
Heather glanced at the clock in the corner of her laptop screen. It was almost 6:30 a.m. “A little over an hour ago I think.” She stretched her arms, yawning again.
“You know, the whole point of starting maternity leave early was to get more rest,” Robby said, walking over to the counter and grabbing some grapes from her bowl. He popped them into his mouth. “Go back to bed.”
Heather wrapped her arms around herself. Though she’d turned on the gas fireplace, she could still feel the late-November chill. “I can’t sleep. My mind won’t stop racing,” she admitted. “There’s still so much we need to do.”
“Don’t worry about Thanksgiving. Your mom said she’s going to help with the cooking. It’s not all on you.”
Heather sighed. “It’s not just Thanksgiving.” Usually, Heather’s family gathered at Simone's house for Thanksgiving or flew to Portland to spend it with their parents. But this year, Heather had offered to host. It would be Heather and Robby’s first Thanksgiving as a married couple and the last one before they became parents. It felt fitting to spend it at their house.
“We’re going to have to start prepping for Christmas and the New Year’s gala and then the baby will be here soon after that,” Heather continued. “The next few weeks are going to be hectic, and we need to make sure we’re ready.” Her eyes flicked back to her laptop. She opened the spreadsheet she’d been working on. “Speaking of which, how attached are you to this house?”
Robby stared at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the schools in this area are good but there are better options in other neighborhoods,” Heather said, her eyes lingering on the screen.
Robby walked up behind her chair, pulling out his reading glasses and putting them on. He leaned over her shoulder to look at the screen.
“This is what you've been up to?” Robby asked, eyebrows raised as he skimmed over the spreadsheet. Heather had laid out a list of schools with a detailed breakdown of pros and cons for each one, including location, curriculum and extracurriculars. “She’s not even born yet. Don’t you think it's a little early to be thinking about school?”
Heather shook her head. “Private schools can fill up quickly, especially the top ones. If we know where we want her to go, we can start planning accordingly.”
“Private school?” Robby repeated, glancing at Heather. “I didn't realize we made that decision.”
“It makes sense. Smaller class sizes, individualized attention, higher quality extracurriculars... Some studies even show that kids who go to private school consistently score higher on tests.”
Robby rested his elbows on the counter, meeting Heather’s gaze. “I went to public school and I think I turned out okay.”
Heather knew what it was like to navigate a world that wasn’t made for people who looked like her. If there were any barriers she could remove for their daughter, she wanted to do so.
“Sure, some public schools are fine," Heather conceded, "but I want to make sure she has the best chances in life.”
“There's more than one way to do that.”
“Are you worried about the cost? Because we can afford it, even the top schools. I've looked into the numbers.”
“Of course you did,” Robby said, shaking his head with a laugh. “It's not about the money. I want her to feel like a normal kid. I don't want to pressure her to follow in our footsteps or go into a certain career. She's going to have to choose her own path as she grows up.”
“I’m not trying to force her onto a specific path, but we can set her up for success by making sure she has a great education.”
“Which she can get at a public school.”
Heather shot him a look. “You’re really going to fight me on this?”
“I’m not fighting, but this is the kind of thing we have to talk about. You can’t make unilateral decisions when it comes to her. We need to be on the same page,” Robby said, taking Heather’s hand. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from. I know your parents were strict with you growing up, but that doesn’t mean–”
“This isn’t about my parents.”
Robby took a deep breath, letting go of her hand. “Okay. Let’s talk about it later. I’ve got to go to work, and you need to go back to bed,” he said, pushing down the lid of her laptop until it closed. “Don’t stress yourself out over what school our daughter will go to in four years. We have time.”
“Okay,” Heather said, though she knew it wouldn’t leave her mind that easily.
“I'll see you tonight,” Robby said, standing up straight. Then, he added, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Robby left the kitchen and headed for the front door. Heather waited, listening for the sound of the front door opening and closing. Then, she reopened her laptop and continued her search for the perfect private school.
The grocery store was crowded, even though it was still morning. Heather stood beside her mother, Nia. They were examining the frozen turkeys, trying to pick out the perfect one for Thanksgiving. Grocery shopping with her mother always brought Heather right back to her childhood. She’d always volunteered to tag along for Nia’s trips to the store, while her father and sister preferred to stay home. She loved getting one-on-one time with her mom, and it felt even more special now, as Heather was preparing to become a mother herself.
“It feels a little strange not being at work right now,” Heather said, glancing around at the other shoppers. “I can barely remember the last time I went grocery shopping in the daytime.”
“I was very surprised when you told me you were starting your maternity leave early,” Nia said, reaching for a turkey and turning it over with her slender fingers. “You seemed adamant about working until Christmas.”
“That was the plan, but Robby practically forced me out. I kept telling him that I felt fine, but he said he hated seeing me work so hard.”
“Well, I’m glad you listened to him. You’re almost eight months pregnant, and I know how stressful the emergency department can be. Now is the time to slow down and put your wellbeing first.” Nia carefully lifted the turkey and placed it in the cart, next to the bag of sweet potatoes.
Heather opened her mouth to respond, but then she felt a firm nudge beneath her ribs as the baby moved. She winced, taking a deep breath. “Are you sure that one’s big enough?” she asked, eyeing the turkey.
“There will only be eight of us at dinner,” Nia said, tightening her thick scarf around her neck. She hated the cold just as much as Heather did. “This one will be fine, and we’ll also have a few different side dishes. Don’t forget that Simone is going to be making a couple of things too.”
“That’s true. I’m probably overthinking it, but it’s the first time we’re hosting Thanksgiving at our house. I want everything to be perfect.”
Nia placed a hand on Heather’s arm and gave her a warm smile. “All that matters is that we’re going to be together as a family. It’s not often that we manage to get everyone under one roof.”
Heather nodded, and they continued moving through the store together, adding more items to the cart and crossing them off Heather’s shopping list.
“Is Robby going to take any time off once the baby’s born?” Nia asked as she reached for a bag of rice.
“He’ll probably take a week or two,” Heather said, leaning against the handle of the cart. Her lower back was beginning to hurt, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease the pressure. “It’s hard for him to get away from the hospital for long.”
“That’s good,” Nia said, placing the bag of rice in the cart. “Those first weeks are precious, and it goes by so fast.”
“I know he wishes he could spend more time at home with us,” Heather said. “He’s already made me promise to send him pictures and updates about the baby while he’s at work. He doesn’t want to miss anything.”
Nia laughed. “That’s sweet. Not every father wants to be so present.”
Heather continued pushing the cart, walking a little slower than before. “It’s extra important to him because he didn’t grow up with his parents. He’s told me about how alone he felt as a kid. He never wants this baby to feel that way.”
“I know he’s been through some rough times,” Nia said. “It sounds like he wants your daughter to have the kind of family he longed for as a child.”
“Yeah, he does,” Heather said, her voice quiet now. Every time she pictured that version of Robby, the innocent little boy longing for his parents, who would never come back, she felt a deep sorrow. It made her wish she could go back in time and give him a hug, reassuring him that one day, the pain wouldn’t hurt so much anymore.
Heather pushed the cart into the next aisle, where the shelves were filled with baby food, bottles, sippy cups and boxes of diapers. She paused, her eyes landing on the boxes of diapers. They all had a picture of a smiling toddler girl with brown skin and dark curls. Heather smiled, her hand drifting to her belly. She’d seen the ultrasound images, but she was excited to know what the baby would look like outside the womb. Heather wondered if their daughter would have more of her features or Robby’s or if she would be a perfect mixture of them both.
Heather parked the car in the driveway and pressed the button to open the trunk before stepping out into the chilly air.
When Heather reached for one of the grocery bags in the trunk, Nia waved her off.
“I saw how tired you were at the store. You don’t need to be lifting anything right now.”
“But there’s so much–”
Nia shook her head. “Go get your father. He and I will bring the groceries inside and put everything away. You should get some rest.”
Heather nodded. “Yeah, okay. I should probably take a nap before my prenatal yoga class anyway. Last time, I almost fell asleep towards the end of it. Thank you.”
Nia smiled, squeezing Heather’s arm. “That’s what we’re here for. Go on.”
Heather walked up the driveway, toward the front door. That was when she noticed the box sitting on the doorstep. She unlocked the door and used her boot to nudge the box inside, guiding it over the threshold.
“Dad?” Heather called as she stepped inside the house, grateful to be out of the cold. She could hear the sounds of the TV in the living room. Her father’s tall figure soon appeared.
“Back already?” her father, Peter, asked, a warm smile on his face.
“Yeah, it was crazy out there, but we made it. Mom asked if you could help bring in the groceries.”
“Of course,” Peter said, walking to the closet to grab his jacket. He pulled it on, along with his boots. As he turned toward the door, his gaze landed on the box at Heather’s feet.
“You got a package?”
Heather stared down at the box. “It was sitting on the doorstep. I’m not sure what it is yet. I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“Maybe something Robby ordered?”
“He doesn’t do much online shopping, but... maybe.”
Peter nodded and headed outside. Heather pulled off her winter gear before taking a closer look at the box. There was no return address, no company logo, no hint of where it had come from. The label was addressed to Heather Robinavitch instead of Collins‑Robinavitch, which was the name she’d chosen when she married Robby. She’d gotten used to people assuming she’d dropped her last name, but the assumption still bothered her a little.
While Heather’s parents made trips in and out of the house, bringing in the grocery bags, Heather grabbed the boxcutter from the kitchen. Her curiosity grew as she sliced open the seams of the box and pulled back the cardboard flaps.
The first thing Heather saw was a knitted lavender baby blanket. She lifted it out of the box, the yarn soft against her fingertips. Beneath the blanket was a faded pink music box and a white doll with brown curls and glassy eyes. It was wearing a vintage blue dress with lace trim. Confused, Heather dug further into the box, looking for a note or a card, but there was nothing else.
“What’s all this?”
Heather jumped at the sound of Nia’s voice. Her mother was standing in the entryway now, staring at the box.
“I don’t know,” Heather said. “It seems like it’s a gift for the baby, but I don’t know who it’s from. There’s no name.”
Nia stepped closer and knelt beside Heather. She took the blanket from her, examining it. “These stitches...” Nia said, rubbing the yarn between her fingers. “They’re uneven. Someone knitted this by hand.”
“You think so?”
Nia nodded. “You can see where the tension shifts. It’s tight in some places, loose in others. This isn’t something you buy in a store. Whoever made this wasn’t a professional.” Nia set the blanket down and then picked up the doll, turning it over in her hands. “This looks like the kind of doll that was around when I was little. Why would someone send this to you?”
“I don’t know,” Heather said. “And there’s this music box too. It looks pretty old.” Heather grabbed the music box. It had tiny red roses painted on it with little green leaves. She opened the lid. Inside, stood a tiny ballerina, her arms arched above her head.
Curious to see if it worked, Heather wound the key in the music box. The ballerina began to spin and a delicate lullaby filled the room. There was a sadness to the music, both haunting and beautiful. Heather felt her daughter shift inside her, giving her little kicks, as if she was listening too.
It was only when the music stopped that Heather realized she had begun to cry.
When Robby stepped into the warmth of the house later that evening, his shoulders were heavy with exhaustion, his cheeks still flushed from the cold. He’d had another grueling shift at the emergency department, and he was ready to unwind. He could smell the spices from Nia’s cooking, which stirred his hunger, reminding him he’d barely had a chance to eat all day. He dropped his bag by the door before bending down to pull off his shoes. When he straightened, Heather was there. She wore leggings and a thick sweater that clung to her round belly.
Even though Robby was tired, he felt a surge of desire just seeing her after a long day. He knew she sometimes felt self‑conscious about the way pregnancy had changed her body, the way her belly stretched her clothes or the swelling in her ankles. But to him, she was still breathtakingly beautiful.
“Hey,” Robby said, his tone slightly hesitant. Things had felt a little tense between them that morning, and he didn’t know if she was still upset.
To his relief, Heather smiled. She crossed the space between them and kissed him, her lips soft and warm against his. He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close, until her belly was pressing against him. He would never get tired of that, the reminder of the life they had created.
“How was your day?” Robby asked when he finally pulled back from the kiss, remembering that Heather’s parents were nearby.
“It was good. My mom and I did some shopping for Thanksgiving. We finally got the turkey too. After that, I took a nap and then went to my prenatal yoga class. It felt so good to stretch,” Heather said, smiling as she rubbed her belly. “I think she liked it too. She was calm the whole time.”
Robby smiled, placing his hand on top of hers. “I’m glad you both had a good time.”
“Something strange happened this morning, though,” Heather said, her mind drifting back to the mysterious box. “Someone sent me a package with baby stuff in it, but we don’t know who it’s from.”
“There was no note?”
Heather shook her head and led Robby to the box, which she’d moved to the dining table.
“There’s a baby blanket, a music box and a doll,” Heather said. “I don’t know who would have sent these things. My mom thinks the blanket was handmade, and the music box and doll look vintage.”
Robby looked inside the box, his eyes taking in each item. He picked up the knitted lavender blanket, his thumb tracing the uneven stitches. As he stared at it, he pictured his bubbe, Delilah, who had loved to knit blankets for him. Robby could almost hear her voice, humming as she worked, and the sound of her knitting needles clicking together. She had knit until her arthritis had stolen her ability, leaving her fingers swollen and stiff.
Heather studied Robby’s face, noticing the crease in his brow. “What is it?”
Robby put the blanket back down in the box, feeling the heavy weight of grief. “It just reminded me of my grandmother for a second.”
Heather slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. “I know you still miss her.”
Robby nodded, giving Heather a small smile. Even though his grandmother had died many years ago, the pain still lingered. It was why he had wanted to give their daughter a variation of Delilah’s name. It was a way to honor her and carry her memory into the future. He knew that Delilah would have loved Heather and her great-granddaughter too. He only wished she could have lived long enough to meet them.
Nia appeared in the entryway, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Dinner’s ready, you two.”
“Thank you,” Robby said, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. Together, they walked to the kitchen, leaving the mysterious box behind. But as they sat around the table, surrounded by the warmth of the stew Nia had made, Robby’s mind kept circling back to the blanket. It had felt familiar and foreign all at once, and that made him uncomfortable.
He didn’t know why, but something told him it wasn't just a gift.