“No shit?” The Leelanau Peninsula pushed so far out into Lake Michigan that it often possessed weather totally peculiar to its geography. He made her a bullshot out of consommé and vodka, deciding the mixture looked healthy enough for him to try. It was like a chunk of cactus in his guts.

“The fucking flu has my whole body on the fritz.” He poked into her Tupperware.

“Mom sent you a little of everything we had for dinner.”

“I better wait for breakfast.” His anger began to rise at his illness.

“It was an upsetting trip. She kept saying she had all four of her babies by my age. Everybody sided with her after they heard about your job, though I waffled a bit there. I said maybe in March we’d think about it if I don’t get the scholarship.”

“Bullshit!” Her sad, puzzled face seemed to demand an extreme position. “By March I’ll be able to send you to medical school.”

“But you said you wanted to buy a place instead of always renting.” She enjoyed it when he became captious and marched around, blowing off steam like her father had always done when crop prices plummeted.

“An education is more important than a house. Any fuck-head can own a house. I’ve been thinking a lot about your ambitions….”—a bold faced lie. “First things first. We can always adopt after medical school.” The single, painful bullshot had slipped into his brainpan. “You’ve done so much for me. You saved my life. I love you too much to hold you back. You can’t bury your talents.”

“I hope you’re not taking your pistol to Florida.” She saw that he had hit an embarrassing, manic phase.

“Pistol? Pistol. Pistol. I don’t need a pistol. Hit me in the gut. I’m hard as a rock. Hit me.”

“After three days of flu,” she smiled.

“Yeah, maybe not. Then feel my arms. Actually what I’ve been thinking is my dad fibbed and bullied the shit out of me back when I was on the track of the great Gauguin.” Warlock sloppily poured another drink. “I was stupid enough to believe all his bullshit. Now you’re going to give your mother a baby?”

“You’re right, darling.” She embraced him, feeling warm but suspicious about his new generosity of spirit after he’d been badgering her off and on for years to have a baby. “But you used to admit that one reason you wanted a baby was so I wouldn’t run off.”

“I guess I remember that. I guess I’ve changed. I’m changing the future. I haven’t told you about it yet.” He began kneading the front of her wool skirt.

“You’re what?” The new job had altered his behavior in ways that she had been too busy to give much notice to. “I don’t understand.”