Free Fade to Black by Wendy Corsi Staub

another child.
    Motherhood is the greatest fulfillment she has ever known. It is intensely pleasurable to be the center of someone’s world, to see how your child lights up when you come into a room, to hold that warm little body close in your arms and know utter contentment.
    Unfortunately, Frank doesn’t seem to see it quite that way. Pamela knows he loves his kids. He just doesn’t have much time to spend with them, after putting in so many hours at work, especially now that he’s a detective. And anyway, maybe men in general just aren’t great with diapers and spit-up and sleepless nights.
    Jason was an accident, at least as far as Frank was concerned. He had been too out of it that night to realize she hadn’t put her diaphragm in when they’d come home from the policeman’s ball, where she had fed him martinis and made suggestive comments in his ear as she rubbed up against him on the dance floor.
    She had known from a slightly crampy feeling in her lower belly that she was ovulating that night, had realized it was the perfect chance to conceive another child, since they rarely got a romantic night out alone together.
    They had left Hannah with the teenage girl down the street, who has since gone off to college, and they had gotten dressed up and gone out to the ball. It was almost like old times, that night—like when they were dating.
    Back then he had never been able to get enough of her. Frank had always had a strong sex drive. Their encounters would leave her feeling sore and achy, but certain that her man was crazy about her.
    When was the last time he even touched her, Pamela wonders now. Maybe, if she hadn’t been pregnant for the past year …
    But …
    “I wanted you so badly,” she whispers into Jason’s small, perfect ear as she carries him through the dining room and down the toy-cluttered hallway. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
    He gurgles happily.
    “Shhh,” she whispers as they pass Hannah’s closed door. “Don’t want to wake up your sister. Lord knows she needs her nap these days, now that she’s hit the terrible twos. Here we go.”
    She uses her shoulder to shove open the door to the nursery, which used to be two closets before they knocked the dividing wall down and added a window last spring. Now the house is without a coat closet and linen closet, but so far they’ve managed.
    Of course, it’s summertime. Pamela doesn’t know where they’re going to keep their jackets and hats and boots once the weather changes—which, in New England, could be any day now that August is winding down.
    She has painted the tiny room white and pasted up a wallpaper border: yellow ducks splashing cheerfully through bright blue puddles. She sewed the yellow and blue madras changing table pad and cradle comforter herself, and painted the white knobs of a wicker yard-sale dresser to match.
    The room is bright and lively, if a little cramped. It’s big enough for a crib—almost time to pull Hannah’s out of the basement—but not for a bed.
    “Don’t worry, Jason-boy,” she tells him. “By the time you’re ready for that, maybe we’ll be moving into a bigger house. Maybe your daddy will get a nice raise now that he’s a detective.”
    She lays the baby down on his table and begins to unfasten the snaps that run up the legs of his stretchie. Her fingers work automatically, and she hums absently as she works, her mind on what to make for dinner. Frank will be home late—she hates when he works on Sundays, but that’s the way it is when you’re married to a cop. Weekends, holidays, midnights—she’s used to being alone with the kids.
    She hears a sound and looks up, out the window. It faces the yard and the house next door.
    She sees Elizabeth Baxter quickly getting out of her car. The woman, who appears to be in a hurry to get inside, as usual, is wearing large sunglasses, along with a pair of worn jeans and a cropped pink top. Her long hair is braided and hangs down her back.
    Envy