Barbara’s face turned gray and, for a moment, Therese thought she might be choking. The color soon returned to her cheeks. “What are you trying to get at?” Barbara whispered.

“Nothing, Barbara. I didn’t mean anything.”

“Timmy never told you.”

A secret.

Immediately Therese’s face shifted and she smiled. A look she had practiced for so long that it had finally became natural. “What, Barbara? Tell me what?”

Barbara lowered her head so that she was staring directly into her bowl of spaghetti. “About his father.”

Therese took a deep breath. “No, Barbara. He never told me.”

“That’s because I told him never to tell. He is a good boy.” She picked at the rolls, pulling out pieces of the white bread with her fingers and rolling them into little balls.

Getting people to divulge their secrets was an art form, a dance. Therese knew exactly what to do next. She nodded her head, folded her hands into her lap, and waited.

“And he also probably didn’t want people to know,” Barbara said.

Therese held her position, counting the seconds to victory.

“That his father raped me.”

Barbara was now pinching the balls, flattening them into circles and tossing them into the bowl of cold spaghetti. Therese’s mind was spinning. She felt cold and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she wondered if Barbara could hear. Probably not, since she was in the same position, her face staring down into the bowl. What was it about Tim that she had missed? What was there, running through his blood? Was it something he spent his life trying to hide? Why had she not been able to spark him? She felt the baby kick her.

Hard.

She reached across and touched the top of Barbara’s hand. “I am so sorry that happened to you.”

Barbara pulled away. She lifted the remote from the TV tray and flicked the television on, but before the volume was at full blast, she said, “So now you understand.”

Therese nodded. Yes, she thought. Now I understand.

The next day at work, it was all she could think about. She sat at her desk listening to the gardeners outside. Their leaf blowers were aimed low to the ground like rifles, blasting away the dried remains of winter. She covered her ears, trying to muffle the highpitched hum that caused her pain between her eyebrows.

It was almost time to meet Leah.

She got a book out of her desk drawer, slipped it into her bag, and walked down the hallway. Leah was waiting for her in the foyer. The dark paneled ceiling was so high, even a whisper magnified into a roar. Leah’s hands were tucked into the pockets of her jacket, and she smiled when she saw Therese approaching.

“I need to breathe some fresh air.”