kissed me on the forehead with nary a glance at the baby I was holding, and took his wife by the elbow to hustle her out the door. Angel gave us a nod and they were on their way, Shelby shepherding Angel as though she were the only woman who’d ever given birth. “Jason said he’d get one of the guys to drive him out here to pick up Angel’s car; I gave him a spare key,” Shelby called over his shoulder at the last minute. Then he buckled up and headed back into town to the Lawrenceton hospital.
Rory came out of the den when Shelby had turned out of the driveway. He was looking amused.
“So, she’s gonna have a baby really soon,” he said agreeably. Listening at doors did not seem to present a moral dilemma for Rory Brown. “Craig took Regina to a midwife.” Then the reminiscent smile faded from the boy’s face as he remembered that his friend Craig was now dead. “He told me it was a lot cheaper,” Rory added, with no smile at all.
“I have to pack,” I said, and both the men looked at me.
“Okay,” Rory said, after what I could only think of as a pregnant pause, “I’ll feed the little fella.”
I transferred baby and bottle to the young man, and spent a blessed hour alone upstairs trying to assemble clothes suitable for an Ohio winter. A number of important questions bobbed to the surface of my mind as I folded and figured. Where would we stay in Corinth? The Holiday Inn I’d used before would certainly be cramped with a baby sharing the room. I wondered about the farmhouse Martin owned up there, the one in which he’d grown up. He’d had it restored from its near-derelict condition, he’d mentioned in passing.
“We could stay in the farmhouse,” Martin said from the doorway, and I jumped in my skin. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“I was just thinking about the farmhouse,” I said, when my heart had stopped trying to make tracks out of my chest. “You had it repaired?”
“Yes. . . and to confess something to you, Regina and Craig were living in it.”
“Why should you say ‘confess’?” I asked. I sat down on the end of the bed, two unopened packages of panty hose in my hands.
“I didn’t tell you,” he said. He wandered across the room to stand looking out the window.
His shoulders had an uncharacteristic slump. The bleak view of winter fields couldn’t have helped his state of mind much. It was a gray day, and the clouds were full of rain . . . Pregnant with it, in fact, my brain told me chirpily. I dropped the hose on the floor and clutched my head with both hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Martin? Why did that have to be such a big secret?”
He sat beside me on the foot of the bed. He put one arm around me, carefully, as though he realized there was a good chance I’d sock him in the nose.
“Cindy told me you would always keep secrets,” I said. “She said you couldn’t help it.” I’d never told Martin about the conversation I’d had with his first wife, before Martin and I were married. I’d been convinced he’d learned his lesson during his first marriage, that with me he would not repeat the same mistake.
“I’ve never lied to you about anything,” Martin said now, and that was something else Cindy had told me.
I hated her being right.
“Martin, if there’s something you know about this that you haven’t told me, if there’s anything about Craig and Regina and Rory and Cindy or your sister . . . anything you haven’t told me, this is your last free pass.”
“After this I get penalized?” His face fell into more familiar lines, the uncertainty fading to be replaced with the intelligence and command he normally wore like his suit coat.
“After this, you get thrown out of the game.” I looked him straight in his pale brown eyes.
“But I’m still in?”
I nodded.
His mouth only had to move an inch to cover mine.
It was different, this time; we’d always been perfect together in bed, and this morning he still had
Rory came out of the den when Shelby had turned out of the driveway. He was looking amused.
“So, she’s gonna have a baby really soon,” he said agreeably. Listening at doors did not seem to present a moral dilemma for Rory Brown. “Craig took Regina to a midwife.” Then the reminiscent smile faded from the boy’s face as he remembered that his friend Craig was now dead. “He told me it was a lot cheaper,” Rory added, with no smile at all.
“I have to pack,” I said, and both the men looked at me.
“Okay,” Rory said, after what I could only think of as a pregnant pause, “I’ll feed the little fella.”
I transferred baby and bottle to the young man, and spent a blessed hour alone upstairs trying to assemble clothes suitable for an Ohio winter. A number of important questions bobbed to the surface of my mind as I folded and figured. Where would we stay in Corinth? The Holiday Inn I’d used before would certainly be cramped with a baby sharing the room. I wondered about the farmhouse Martin owned up there, the one in which he’d grown up. He’d had it restored from its near-derelict condition, he’d mentioned in passing.
“We could stay in the farmhouse,” Martin said from the doorway, and I jumped in my skin. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“I was just thinking about the farmhouse,” I said, when my heart had stopped trying to make tracks out of my chest. “You had it repaired?”
“Yes. . . and to confess something to you, Regina and Craig were living in it.”
“Why should you say ‘confess’?” I asked. I sat down on the end of the bed, two unopened packages of panty hose in my hands.
“I didn’t tell you,” he said. He wandered across the room to stand looking out the window.
His shoulders had an uncharacteristic slump. The bleak view of winter fields couldn’t have helped his state of mind much. It was a gray day, and the clouds were full of rain . . . Pregnant with it, in fact, my brain told me chirpily. I dropped the hose on the floor and clutched my head with both hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Martin? Why did that have to be such a big secret?”
He sat beside me on the foot of the bed. He put one arm around me, carefully, as though he realized there was a good chance I’d sock him in the nose.
“Cindy told me you would always keep secrets,” I said. “She said you couldn’t help it.” I’d never told Martin about the conversation I’d had with his first wife, before Martin and I were married. I’d been convinced he’d learned his lesson during his first marriage, that with me he would not repeat the same mistake.
“I’ve never lied to you about anything,” Martin said now, and that was something else Cindy had told me.
I hated her being right.
“Martin, if there’s something you know about this that you haven’t told me, if there’s anything about Craig and Regina and Rory and Cindy or your sister . . . anything you haven’t told me, this is your last free pass.”
“After this I get penalized?” His face fell into more familiar lines, the uncertainty fading to be replaced with the intelligence and command he normally wore like his suit coat.
“After this, you get thrown out of the game.” I looked him straight in his pale brown eyes.
“But I’m still in?”
I nodded.
His mouth only had to move an inch to cover mine.
It was different, this time; we’d always been perfect together in bed, and this morning he still had
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