Jim stood and walked over to look at one of Mrs. Donovan’s paintings that hung over a bookshelf next to the fireplace. It was another one of the hills down across the river. Jim had both hands in his pockets, and he was bending over, looking real close. Allie’s door opened and Leo stood up so fast he almost fell back on the couch. Mrs. Donovan came out, then Allie. She held her hands crossed in front of her. She was barefoot and wore a nice blouse tucked into a blue-jean skirt. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. Her face was pale, but Leo couldn’t remember her ever looking so pretty. He smiled and waved. Allie smiled back.

“Hi, Jim.”

“Hello, Allie. Looks like we have a situation going, huh?”

“Yeah.” Allie said. Mrs. Donovan sat in the rocking chair near the fireplace and Allie sat on the couch right up against the arm opposite Leo. Leo sat down too, but Jim stayed standing near the mantel.

“Allison?” Mrs. Donovan said.

Allie crossed her legs at the knees and started bouncing the calf of the top leg against the shin of the bottom.

“Leo filled me in on the whole story,” Jim said. “Let’s go from there.”

“I wish it were that simple, Mr. Suther,” Allie’s mother said.

“You can call me Jim if you like.”

“Thank you. Allie, go ahead now.”

Leo looked over at her. She was bouncing her leg pretty fast. Her arms were crossed too.

“My father came up here to talk, Allie.”

“Allison,” Mrs. Donovan said. “If—”

Allie uncrossed her arms and legs and stood up. “It is simple. There’s no baby, okay? I drove myself to Boston, and I saw a creepy doctor, and that’s that! Okay?” She looked down at Leo. “All right? I did it. I did it. Not you, not my mother, ME!” She slapped her chest with her hand. She looked quickly at Jim, then turned and ran through the kitchen and out the back door.

Leo jumped up and started after her but Jim grabbed him from behind at the waist and Leo jerked his elbows back and charged outside to the rear porch where he tripped over a barbell plate and fell forward over the steps onto the ground on his knees.

“Allie!” He yelled her name before he knew where she was, but now he could see her: straight ahead beyond the grass, she was in the trees at the ridge, still running, her blonde hair and white blouse giving her away. He got up and ran over the yard into the hickories and spruce. He tripped over a root, skinned the palm of his hand, and kept running. He couldn’t see her anymore. Then he did. The ridge gave way to the other side of Spoon Hill, a long steep pine-tree slope that ended in a runoff gulley, still wet and muddy from the rains. And there she was, running down to it. She held her arms out and let the trunks slap her hands as she headed for the bottom. Leo did a fast roofing sidestep down between the trees.