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I stare at my text message.

Ned’s on his way home. And is going to explain everything.

I should be happy, relieved with the storm coming in, but I’m not. The message disturbs me. Did he drive around all day thinking about our marriage?

I can’t stop thinking about yesterday morning. Ned looked at me like he despised me. Like he wanted me dead. Actually, it was more like I was already dead, and he wanted to dispose of me. At that moment, I knew our relationship was irreparably changed.

If he thinks I’m taking him back, he’s got another thing coming.

I read his text again and reply: OK. No hearts or smiley faces. Not even a little x. Then hit send and delete it.

We’ll weather the storm together. And then it’s going to be over for him. Very over.

My heart belongs to another.

Should I call him? Text him?

Tell him that…

Another sudden clap of thunder startles me, stopping me in my thoughts, and this time it wakes up Isa. She bawls. My poor baby. The thunder’s scared her.

“My sweet girl, I’ll be right back.” I find the baby carrier where I left it, strap it on, and put my wailing baby inside it, snuggling her close to me. Gently, I bounce her until her sobs subside.

“C’mon,” I tell her. “You can help me find our emergency preparedness kit.” I kiss her silky scalp. Our first mother-daughter activity.

We search the house. You’d think obsessive-compulsive Ned would have such a kit handy, but I can’t find it. Maybe he keeps one in my garage, but with the door busted, I can’t get inside.

I need to create one.

With Isa glued to my chest, the storm looming, I remember the plastic basket on wheels in the laundry room. Pulling it behind me like a wagon, I tear through the house.

Within five breathless minutes, my makeshift emergency kit is created. The basket is loaded with first-aid supplies, candles, folding umbrellas, warm blankets, extra clothing, and even a rain poncho.

After adding a stack of Pampers and wipes to the basket, I return to the kitchen to retrieve some bottles of water, canned foods, and snacks as well as the flashlight I saw in Ned’s tool drawer. I stop when I see my mother by the built-in trash compactor. Dressed in a nightgown and pink rollers, she’s dangling a familiar object from her bony hand.

“Mother, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she slurs without looking at me. She must be drunk. “I’m throwing this hideous doll in the trash where it belongs. It’s been giving me nightmares and I’m sick of it!”

The Baby Reborn doll. Nurse Marley’s gift.

With Isa now sound asleep in her carrier, I charge up to my mother. “You have no right to throw away anything that belongs to me.” I snatch the doll out of her hand. Part of me wants to throw out the creepy, realistic doll myself, but I refrain. Instead, I tell my mother to get dressed, that a hurricane is expected.

“Puh-lease.” With a roll of her eyes, she opens the fridge and pulls out an open bottle of Merlot. She guzzles the wine right from the bottle.

Outside, a vroom sounds. I recognize it. It’s Ned’s Lamborghini. The car comes to a screeching halt. The front door bursts open and rapid, heavy footsteps make their way to the kitchen. Is he in one of his foul moods?

I look up. It’s not Ned. It’s Nurse Marley.

“What are you doing here?” Her presence makes my skin crawl.

“I’ve come to tell you I’m quitting.”

Brandishing her free arm, my mother does some kind of drunken happy dance. I hope she’ll be sober enough to evacuate the house if we have to.

Marley ignores her and looks me dead in the eye. “I can’t work for someone who calls me a liar.”

“Fine.” My heart does a happy dance of its own. She’s sparing me from having to fire her.

Her violet eyes bore into me. “I’ve come to collect what’s mine.”