“I don’t know.” She gulped. “I have to think.”

John returned and stood awkwardly inside the doorway, hands in his pockets. “Everything okay in here?”

Jo made a muffled noise against my shoulder. A laugh? A sob?

“We’re fine,” I said, and prayed that it was true.

“Good.” He grabbed the bottle of bourbon and two juice boxes. “We’re watching Frozen. You let me know if you want me to beat anybody up,” he said to Jo.

She raised her head at that. “No.” Her eyes were wet, her face pale and surprisingly composed. Somehow she managed a smile. “Thank you, though.”

He nodded, shifting the bottle under one arm to pat her shoulder. “Anytime. Whatever you need.”

He was such a good guy. I loved him so much.

“Jo,” I said after I’d set her down at the kitchen table and made us both a cup of tea. Decaffeinated, because . . . Pregnant. “Do you want me to make an appointment for you with my doctor?”

She grimaced into her tea. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“You need to start prenatal vitamins.” I bit my lip. “Unless you want to . . . Jo, do you want this baby?”

She swallowed and set down her mug. “I don’t . . . I don’t know.” She pressed her hand to her middle, her fingers curving protectively around her still-flat stomach. “I don’t think I could . . .”

Have the baby? I wondered. Terminate the pregnancy?

“I just found out myself,” my sister said. “Can we just not tell anybody for a little while?”

I thought of Trey in the next room, drinking bourbon and watching Frozen. “It’s a little late for that.”

“You’re right.” She reached for her ponytail. Tugged on curls instead. “Oh God. How am I going to tell Mom?”

“Forget Momma. What are you going to say to Eric?”

She stared at me, her mouth slightly open. “I have to tell him.”

“Er, yes.”

She slumped in her chair. “Crap. Oh crap!” She jumped up. “The corn bread!” She pulled the skillet from the oven and set it on the stove top, tapping, testing the surface with her fingertips. “Only a little burnt.”

“It looks wonderful. Do you want to dish up now?”

“I’m not very hungry,” my sister confessed.

“You should try to eat something.”

Jo lifted an eyebrow at me. “For the baby?”

“For luck,” I said, and got up to set the table.

Idon’t like to think of her all on her own,” I said to John as we got ready for bed that night.

Jo had turned down my offer to spend another night on our couch, declaring she would be more comfortable in her own bed. Anyway, she had to go back to the farm to feed the animals.

“She’s not alone,” John said. “She has us.”

My heart turned to mush.

“Relax,” my husband advised. “Things will look better in the morning.”