Soreness throbbed in my groin. Nell was big, over eight pounds. The doctor said my hips had probably cracked open when the baby’s head passed through, and I was feeling it. Out in the parking lot, thick flakes fell down like rain under the light of the lamppost. My heart was racing. Come on! Finally I saw someone trudging along, and I recognized Digger’s hooded outline. He was walking in the wrong direction, toward the side doors.

“Hey!” I yelled, and he turned around, confused.

“Cal?” he said.

“Get over here and catch my bag,” I said.

“What in the hell?” He moved closer, throwing up his hands as he marched through the snow.

“Get below me,” I said, looking back at the hospital room. “Take this first.”

He reached out his arms, ready. “Give it to me,” he said.

I leaned forward and lowered the bag toward his open arms. Even though the baby and I were about ten feet off the ground, the distance to Digger’s hands was less. She’d fall only two or three feet, we’d make it.

“Be careful,” I said as the freezing ledge seeped through my pants and numbed my thighs.

“Drop it,” he said, gesturing for me to let him have the bag. The wind blew the hood off his head, and he squinted into the falling snow. “Do it!” he said, and I did.

He caught it like a football, with give, and then chucked the duffel to the side, into a snowbank. Then he turned back and looked up at me, as if waiting for instructions.

“You can’t catch me,” I said.

“No shit.”

“Well, get out of the way, then.”

Digger stepped back, looking behind him as car lights swept the parking lot. “Hurry.” He shuddered and blew into his hands.

I inched myself farther along the frigid ledge till I found a landing spot that had a big enough pile of snow. My wet pants were half frozen, and my hands burned. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself forward, fell about four feet, and landed.

“Ow!” I said, and Digger reached over to pull me out of the snow.

“You okay?” he said in the way people ask but don’t really want to know.

“No,” I said, but he was already walking in front of me, taking the duffel to the parking lot.

He opened the passenger door and shoved me up into the warm truck, which he’d left running for us, at least. The inside of the truck was exactly the same as I remembered it, and I had that sad flashback feeling of when I was his girlfriend. He put the bag in the backseat, slammed shut the driver door, and shifted into drive.

“Thank you for doing this,” I said, touching his arm.

“Yeah.” He adjusted the rearview mirror and my hand fell away. “It’s good to see you,” he said, not looking at me.