Chapters (65)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Part Two
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Part Three
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- About the Publisher
“Let’s try it out,” said Cally, picking up the baby and putting her in the car seat.
“She’s not a doll for you to play with.”
“I know,” she said, pissy.
“There’s a handle on top.”
“Yeah, we can carry her in it.”
The kid squirmed and fussed. “Looks like she doesn’t like it much,” I said.
Cally brought the baby to the rocking chair and rocked her. And fed her. Again. I finished unpacking the Target bags. The cabin felt smaller with all the new shit.
I got my toothbrush and walked outside. I wanted to brush my teeth in private, and Cally had been watching me. I didn’t like it.
When I came back inside, Cally got up carefully from the rocker. The baby had fallen asleep, and I planned to do the same. Cally put her into the crate, and I blew out the candle and the oil lamp. Cally took off her pants but left on her T-shirt. In the glow of the woodstove, her bare legs looked good. Her tits looked good under that T-shirt. Her stomach was slightly fat, but not bad, and anyway, I liked her curves.
I got down to my boxers. Cally watched me scratch my chest. She always told me she liked that I didn’t have hair. And she didn’t mind my scar. She used to follow it with her finger. From the top of my chest down to my waist. A line that divided my left from my right. A reminder I was a strong son of a bitch.
We crawled into bed, and I couldn’t help but think about the last time we’d fucked. I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d do it again. Was Cally thinking that? “Careful,” I said as she swung her legs in and they rubbed up against mine. Her skin was soft. Her body was warm.
“You’re cold,” she said, unfolding the extra blankets from the end of the bed and covering us both. “This is a small bed, what is this, a double or a queen?”
“It ain’t a queen,” I said, rolling over and pulling the covers my way.
We lay there in the darkness, trying to sleep. The place got quiet. A log in the stove fell into smaller pieces, flaming.
“Digger,” she said.
“Whuh?”
“Thank you.”
Twenty-Four
Hal
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2002
Early Morning
Ruth was on a rampage. Pacing around the hospital conference room, she couldn’t sit down. She’d been lecturing the director of patient relations, throwing her arms up. Ruth’s voice was brusque. “I can’t believe your hospital doesn’t have procedures in place for this kind of—”
“Of course we have procedures,” said the director of patient relations. “I can assure you—”
“A security system or something—” said Ruth.
“Yes, we have security. We have procedures in place,” answered the director.
“Not very good ones,” Ruth muttered.