She hated every minute of it, and hated that David had put her in this position. Yet there was never a question of following through. By some profound influence, she felt closer to David than ever, and she knew that he despised the lies as much as she did—probably more. She also knew that at this very moment he could be risking everything to protect her and their child. For all the trouble that dogged him, Christine was rock-solid in one belief about her husband. More than anything, he wanted what she was witnessing right now—a quiet Friday night at home with his family.

Goodnight Moon came to its end, the mouse and clock having run their ritual courses, and Ulrika held up a bottle and asked, “Would you like to give Fredrik his supper?”

Christine smiled. “Yes, please.”

The babe was handed over with a warm bottle, and she tried to make Fredrik comfortable. The child latched on and relaxed instantly in the crook of her arm. Christine felt a protective instinct that was distinctly maternal, and this caused her to wonder how David would react in the same situation. Would the kidon be changed by holding his child in his arms?

“You’re a natural,” said Ulrika. “He always screams when Anders feeds him.”

“Not true,” rang a voice from the kitchen. “That is only gas.”

Christine smiled, and said, “I’m glad I can do something to help. Dav … Edmund said it might be Sunday before he can get a flight.”

“It’s no problem. You can stay as long as you like, Christine. Edmund is welcome as well.”

Ulrika went to the kitchen, and Christine found herself mesmerized by Fredrik. He was a beautiful child—but then, weren’t they all? His mouth suckled in a slowing rhythm, and before the end of the bottle he was fast asleep, a white dribble running over his cheek that she wiped away with the ever-present slop cloth.

“I think he’s done,” she called out softly.

Ulrika reappeared and Christine tried to rise without waking Fredrik. Halfway up she felt an excruciating pain in her midsection. She fell back into the chair.

“What’s wrong?” said Ulrika, taking Fredrik.

“I don’t know,” Christine said, grimacing. “I had a fall the other day, bruised my ribs. They’ve been sore ever since, but not like this.”

“I should have a look. Perhaps we can get an X-ray to see whether—”

“No, no! I can’t have an X-ray because I’m—” She stopped there, tearing up as pain seared through her upper body.

Ulrika looked at her with concern. “I’m going to put Fredrik to bed,” she said. “Then I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

*   *   *