Paul touched a finger to his forehead and pulled it away. “Colette, you could build a house on the rim of the freaking Grand Canyon with picture windows overlooking the view, and in six weeks all you’d be doing is watching old black-and-white movies on a portable TV in the bedroom, and you’d be throwing your garbage down the cliffs.”

She crossed her hands in her lap. “You don’t like living out here, is that it?”

“I love living out here. It’s a permanent vacation.”

She crinkled her straight white nose. “Permanent vacation. That sounds like death.”

He looked at her intensely, her eyes, the sheen of her hair. “You feeling all right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never say things like you just said.” He blinked. “You sure you’re all right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. You’re the one would rather stick his nose in a steam engine’s butt than visit a national park.” She got out of his car, then, remembering something, leaned back in. “As we speak, there are people driving all the way from Louisiana just to visit these mountains.”

He looked over the long white hood of his car. “Also as we speak, a bunch of California people are driving to Barataria to take a ride on Boudreaux’s Swamp Tours. You sure you feel okay?”

“Yes,” she yelled, slamming the door so hard the sedan shivered like a horse.

*   *   *

By the end of May, Colette knew she was not all right. Each day brought a second or two of vertigo, accompanied by a taste of brass at the back of her throat. One morning her feet were swollen. Another day it hurt to put on her brassiere. And then one night she got up and rummaged through the pantry, desperate for a tin of sardines in tomato sauce. Sardines! Her head snapped up from the neatly arranged cabinet and she ran to her desk calendar in the living room. When she saw that her period was two weeks late, she sat quietly on the sofa and stared at the numbers, trying to make them add up differently. She knew that once or twice a year, she was not regular, so she did not panic. A week later, however, she gave in to her fear, drove to the drugstore, and bought a home pregnancy test. Back at the apartment, she looked at the result and began to tremble, deciding to will that this would not make a difference in her life. The sliding glass door gave back her reflection until false dawn as she thought about what she would do if she was indeed pregnant.