I staggered into the kitchen. The smell of coffee, rich as chocolate, earthy as soil, hit me like a slap.

“Here you go,” Meg said. “Half-and-half?”

I gripped the carton, the sides wet with condensation. Added a dollop to my mug. The cream swirled and sank, dark and light in an acid brew.

Nausea rolled in my gut. I forced it down. Took one sip, and bolted for the bathroom.

Humiliating minutes later, Meg stood in the bathroom door, pity in her eyes. “Oh, Jo.”

I spat into the toilet. “I’m fine,” I said weakly. “It’s just something I ate.”

“Or didn’t eat.” She disappeared. Came back a minute later with a juice glass full of—ginger ale?—and some saltines. “Here.”

I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

She set the glass by the sink and handed me the crackers. “Try it.”

Clearly, she wasn’t going to budge. To please her, I took a sip of ginger ale. Took a bite of saltine and let it dissolve in my mouth.

“Better. Thanks.” I smiled, but my sister’s worried expression didn’t go away. “Really, I feel better. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something. I hope the kids don’t catch it.”

“Are you sure it’s a bug?”

“What do you mean?”

Meg bit her lip. “Jo . . . When was your last period?”

Oh. “I don’t know. Right after Thanksgiving?”

“You don’t keep track?”

No. “It’s not like I have sex all the time,” I said. Until recently. Until Eric.

My sister was diplomatically silent.

Oh. My stomach lurched again. Not the ice cream. Not a stomach bug. Oh no.

CHAPTER 26

Meg

The cashier at the drugstore glanced at the pregnancy test before putting it in the bag. “Good luck, dear,” she said, her tone nicely balanced between congratulations (in case I wanted to be pregnant) and sympathy (in case I didn’t).

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” I said, and hurried to the car.

I’d wanted to spare my sister the awkwardness of running into anybody we knew. Jo was waiting for me at home. Getting started on dinner, she had explained to John when he invited her to go with him and the twins to the park. I’d bought a spiral-cut ham, figuring it would be no work. But Jo was determined to prepare the traditional New Year’s Day dinner. For luck. “Rice for riches, peas for pennies, collards for dollars, corn bread for gold,” our mother would say. Jo had promised to bring a plate to her tomorrow.

Along with the news that she was going to be a grandmother again?

I went in the kitchen door. Jo was stirring a big pot of greens on the stove. “Just like Momma’s,” I said.

“I made collards and corn bread for staff dinner once,” Jo said. “For Eric.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

Jo’s chin raised. “Right.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Let’s do this thing.”

I pulled the pregnancy test from the bag. “It’s supposed to be most accurate first thing in the morning.”