“Hey!” Miguel said in a way that cut through the niceties.

“Oh, right.” He smiled broader. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re pregnant.” He shut the folder. “We’ve got some good OBs here. It’s your choice. But that book was great. I bought half a dozen copies and gave them as Christmas gifts. Joe Harding was—”

“I am what?” Vera shouted.

The doctor looked surprised at the fierceness of her response. “With child.” He glanced at Miguel, who was pretty much catatonic. Frozen. “It happens.”

Vera came out of her chair, hands on his desk, and leaned over him. He was seeing the Vera Exton that her colleagues saw, the ones who ran away from her. “I am forty-nine years old. I can not be pregnant.”

“Age does slow down pregnancy, but research has shown that an active sex life activates the hormones. Have you two, uh, been active?” He was looking at Miguel, who had not moved so much as an eyelash.

“This is not possible.” Vera leaned farther over his desk. She was tall enough that her head was near his. Her hair had escaped its bonds. She was formidable looking.

The doctor rolled his chair back. “I, uh... I’ll give you some brochures to read.” He punched the button on his desk phone. “Get Ms. Exton a bottle of prenatal vitamins and—” He raised his voice. “And come in here now!”

Finally, Miguel reacted. He stood up, took Vera’s arm and pulled. She didn’t move. She was still looming over the desk, still glaring in threat at the doctor. Miguel got behind her, put his hands firmly on her upper arms and led her out of the office. He didn’t let go until he got her into the cab of his truck. He walked around the front and got in beside her.

He didn’t turn on the engine. They sat there in silence, staring out the window. “It’s not possible,” she said. “I’m too old. The baby will have problems.”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Maybe not.”

She looked at him. “You’re glad, aren’t you?”

He kept looking straight ahead. “I will do whatever you want. It’s your body.”

“Did you read that response in a book somewhere? What to say to an angry pregnant woman?”

He turned to her. “I know what you want in life. You must go. But this would be my child. I’m not going to have another one.”

“And you would stay behind to raise it? Déjà vu? Do it all over again? I’d go off alone and you’d stay here?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can go and I’ll stay here and raise our child alone. Again.” He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

They were almost home when Vera whispered, “I think I know a solution.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Mason, Kansas
2019

Vera Exton was returning.