“I have to get back to work now,” she said. “You just take a nap, all right? The girls will be home in an hour, so you just rest, honey. Everyone needs a break once in a while.”

Mom kissed her on the forehead, smoothed back her hair, and before she’d even left, Juliet was asleep.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Barb

Two days after Juliet needed me (the thought still gave me a warm feeling), Caro and I walked into a little café in Middle Haddam, which was far enough from Stoningham that we weren’t likely to run into anyone we knew.

We were meeting WORK.

“Cute place,” Caro said. “And clearly she’s not here yet. Let me get us something. You want a tea, I already know. Any cake or cookies?”

“I’m good, Caro. Thanks.” I wasn’t good. I was nervous. And still angry. And sad. And humiliated. And gosh-darn tired, too. I got up every night at three a.m. to give John his medication, and I wasn’t a young woman anymore. It often took me an hour or more to fall back asleep.

John had been home now for weeks. LeVon had become a fixture in our house, and that was a real blessing, I’ll tell you.

Sometimes, it felt like he was the son I’d never had. That first pregnancy of mine . . . I’d always thought the baby was a boy, and . . . well, sometimes I liked to picture what life would be like if that baby had lived. He’d be about LeVon’s age—late forties. Maybe John and I wouldn’t have grown apart if I hadn’t struggled with infertility. Maybe Juliet would have relaxed a little more with a big brother to tease her, and Sadie would look up to him and be a little more responsible with him as a role model.

Most days, LeVon stayed a little late, joining me in a cup of tea before he left. It felt so comforting. Like he was protecting me, in some inexplicable way. He said he’d be with us until John’s recovery was mostly done, and gosh, that was a relief. I’d adopt him if I could, but he had a wife and three kids, and his parents lived next door to him, so I guess that was out.

“Okay,” Caro said, sitting down. “Any idea what she looks like?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“So they didn’t text pictures.”

“No. Thank God they didn’t do that, you know? I’d hate to have to see a dick pic.”

“The first selectman of Stoningham just said ‘dick pic’!” Caro said.

It wasn’t funny. It was awful. But it felt so good to laugh.