When Kate came back from the pharmacy, he retreated to the kitchen. He could hear her coaching Paula, first in the bathroom and then through the door. At times her voice was serious and precise; other times they were both laughing. After a long while, she came into the kitchen. She caught him standing there in the middle of the room, doing nothing. She touched the quilt in his arms. “If I run cold water on it now, it won’t stain.”

“I’ll do it.” He went down the narrow back hallway to the laundry room with the big basin, and she followed. He never expected her to follow.

He turned on the faucet. She held the quilt up and fed the stained parts to him slowly. They had to wash it bit by bit, wringing out one part before starting on another. He wished, as in a fairy tale, a magic spell had been placed on the cloth so it would never end, and they could spend the rest of their lives right here, washing and wringing.

“You may have to undo some stuff I told her while you were gone. I babbled on about iron supplements and pregnancy and probably scared the lights out of her.”

“You babbled? I thought you were the most reticent man in the world.”

“Every forty-two years or so I babble.”

She still had her coat on. It must have started snowing again. Melted flakes glinted like stars all over her.

He heard the timer buzz, then the oven door squeak open.

They hung the quilt on the fishing line he’d strung up across the room years ago. When they were done he could do nothing but look at her. She looked carefully back. Paula called them to dinner but they made no move toward the kitchen.

“Why do you think,” he asked her, “that man said we had the same eyes?”

“Maybe he saw something similar in them.”

“Like what?”

“Fear.” She looked away. He’d forgotten how disappointing these conversations could be.

“Desire,” she added quietly.

Love, he thought. It would come out soon enough. Words and feelings were all churned up together inside him, finding each other like lost parts of an atom. He didn’t try to push them apart or away. He let them float in the new fullness in his chest.

She brought her hand to his face. It wasn’t the face other women had touched. The skin wasn’t the same. His nerve endings had multiplied. He could feel each one of her fingers, their different sizes and temperatures. His stomach made a long slow twist in anticipation of all that his lips would feel.