Except I have to, don’t I, because of our baby. A baby attaches me to Paul until the end of time. It tangles us up in a bond so much more complicated than marriage. My throat goes thick, burning with coming tears.

Micah sits silent, watching me across the dim space, and his expression makes my stomach hurt. He doesn’t think the baby is good news, either.

“Maybe I should take you to Dr. Harrison, let him check you out just in case.”

“No, I’m fine. Really. I just need Chet.”

Micah’s phone buzzes in the cup holder. I know who it is long before he shows me the screen. Paul’s face jiggles in the air between us. “What do you want me to tell him?”

“Nothing. You haven’t seen me.”

“At least let me tell him you’re okay. If he gets wind of your car wrapped around that tree, he’s going to have a fit.”

“Not a word, Micah. I’m serious.”

Micah stares at me, and the phone rings and rings. He swipes to pick up right before it flips to voice mail. “Hey, Paul. What’s up?”

My husband’s voice comes through the phone in fits and starts, too faint to pick out anything other than speed. Paul is in a hurry, the words rushing out of him.

“No, sorry. I haven’t talked to her all day. Is her car there?”

A long pause. Micah gives me a reassuring smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. She probably just ran into town or something. I’m sure she’ll show up soon. Hey, listen, I’m kinda in the middle of something here. Can I call you back in a little bit?” Another pause. “I know, but try to chill out, will you? I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

He hangs up, tosses his cell on the console. “So what now?”

“I don’t know. Take me to town, I guess? That’s where Chet went earlier.”

“Let’s stop at my place first.” With a quick glance over his shoulder, Micah puts the truck in gear, pulls onto the road and points the nose toward home. “You need to get out of those wet clothes, and so do I. After that, we’ll figure out a game plan.”

32

Of all of Paul’s projects, Micah’s house has always been my favorite. Some old great-aunt’s dusty log cabin, transformed into a sleek, modern masterpiece, all wood and glass and steel. Paul scaled the place for Micah’s six-foot-two frame, the rooms and the fittings and the furniture all oversized, gargantuan tables and deep-seated couches made for large bodies and long limbs. I want to climb onto that big couch of his and sleep for a week.