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Back 3 a.m.
Chapters (67)
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

Fifteen minutes later, three canoers and two kayakers float down the river. They all wave as they move past and Ingrid and I wave back.

“We should do that tomorrow,” she says. “Rent a canoe.”

“I already checked into it,” I say with a smile. “There are three or four different places all along the river. They call it ‘Floating the Chena.’ It doesn’t get this hot too often, so when it does, everyone heads for the water. The whole trip is twelve miles, takes about four hours, but I figure we could do the last couple miles.”

“I’ll pack the sunscreen,” she says, slapping me on the leg. “Freddie.”

We laugh and kiss, which leads to some more kissing and some light funny business.

At 3:55 a.m., I remember I packed a little surprise.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, giving her forehead a gentle kiss. “I have dessert.”

My dad gave me an expensive bottle of scotch to take on the trip. I rummage through my suitcase and pull out a bottle of forty-year-old Macallan. I snag two tumblers from the kitchen and head back outside.

My dad and I would occasionally drink a beer or a glass of scotch when we played cards each Wednesday, but I didn’t do a whole lot of drinking. Mainly because I didn’t have time.

I pour two fingers of scotch into both glasses and hand one to Ingrid.

I lift my tumbler to clink glasses.

Ingrid stares at hers on the table.

My watch beeps.

Two-minute warning.

“What?” I ask. “You don’t like scotch?”

She fingers the glass.

I say, “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.”

She shakes her head.

When she gazes up at me, her navy eyes have melted and drip softly down her cheeks.

“Henry,” she says, softly, “I’m pregnant.”

:04

June 21st

Sunrise 3:07 a.m.

It’s 3:02 a.m. when I walk into the kitchen. Ingrid sits at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cup of steaming coffee. She gazes at me. Waiting for me to speak.

“You said you were on birth control.”

“I am,” she says with a nod.

“And you were taking it?”

“Almost every day.”

“Almost?”

“Sometimes with work it slips my mind.”

“How long? How long have you known?”

“A month.”

“A month?”

“I wanted to be sure.”

“And you are?”

She sniffs and nods.