Colleen looked at Michael, hoping that he would be outraged by this obvious threat to her life, but he was looking at his feet. He had also, she noticed, moved so that his body was blocking the door. How far would she get if she ran back inside? He would be on her in moments. She had always admired his easy strength, his grace. Now, the thought made her want to be sick.

“How am I to know you won’t come back for me? How do I know …” She paused to gasp in a panicky breath, “that you won’t just show up here one night, with your van.”

“I swear it.” He met her eyes then. “Give us the child, and we’ll go. You’ll never see me again. I’ll keep my distance.” His green eyes flashed. “But I’ll write. And you’ll write to me. That’s all. I love you, Colleen. I just want what’s mine.”

“Yours.” She laughed a little, although tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“He’ll write, and you’ll write back,” added the old man, “and we’ll know where you are at all times. Do you understand me, lass? You keep on writing to my boy here, because we’ll need to know you’re on side. Just in case you start feeling the need to unburden yourself. You never speak of this child to anyone. To you, they no longer exist. And for that, we’ll keep our distance. I can promise you that.” He lifted his lips in a sneer. “What are you sniveling about? You can have more babies. That’s what women do, isn’t it?”

Michael turned to look at the older man, a scowl briefly darkening his brow. “That’s enough.”

“What will you do? With the baby?”

“Raise him, Colleen. He’s my boy.” Michael smiled slightly, and quite abruptly she hated him with every part of her, a hate to shake the stars down from the sky. “Or girl. I’ll look after him. It might even, you know, help me. To be …”

He licked his lips and looked down at his feet again.

“To be less of a monster?” Colleen provided. He gave her that hurt look again, and suddenly she couldn’t stand it. She raised her hand. “You will stay here. You will wait here, and not come inside my home, or I swear to god I will kill the baby myself before you get to us. Do you understand?”

The old man looked like he might argue, but Michael nodded. Colleen went back down the hall to the little spare room she had been using as a makeshift nursery, trying with every step not to be sick. The twins were in matching basinets, snug in tiny yellow and white baby grows, their little pink faces scrunched up tight with sleep. She stood over them, knowing that she had no time, no time at all—the foul old man would get impatient, would come after her, then they would all be lost—but still, it was hard to look away, knowing this would be the last time she saw them together.