“What?”
Instead of answering, he simply squeezed my hand, and I felt a sudden flutter of fear at the idea that as normal as he seemed on the surface, I had no idea what was going on with him at all.
*
On Sunday morning, Gwen came by to check on me and let me know that I was “almost there,” something the mirror had made pretty obvious.
“How are your Braxton Hicks?”
“Irritating,” I answered.
She ignored my comment. “You might start thinking about getting a bag ready for the hospital.”
“I still have time, don’t you think?”
“Toward the end, it’s impossible to predict. Some women go into labor early; some take a little longer than expected.”
“How many babies have you delivered? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”
“I can’t remember exactly. Maybe a hundred?”
My eyes widened. “You’ve delivered a hundred babies?”
“Something like that. There are two other pregnant women on the island right now. I’ll probably do their deliveries.”
“Are you upset that I wanted to go to the hospital instead?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“I also want to thank you. For staying here on Sundays and checking on me, I mean.”
“It wouldn’t be right to leave you alone. You’re still young.”
I nodded, though part of me wondered if I would ever feel young again.
*
Bryce showed up soon after, wearing khakis and a polo along with loafers, looking older and more serious than usual.
“Why are you dressed up?” I asked.
“There’s something I want to show you. The thing I mentioned the other day.”
“The not-another-cemetery thing?”
“That’s the one,” he said. “But no worries. I swung by right before coming here, and there’s no one around.” Reaching out, he took my hand and kissed the back of it. “You ready?”
All at once, I knew he’d planned something big, and I took a small step backward. “Let me brush my hair first.”
I’d already brushed my hair, but I retreated to my bedroom, wishing there were a way to rewind the last couple of minutes and just start over. While Recent Bryce had occasionally seemed off, today’s version was entirely new, and all I could think was that I wished Old Bryce had shown up instead. I wanted to see him in jeans and his olive jacket, with a file box of photos beneath his arm. I wanted him at the table, helping me learn equations or quizzing me on Spanish vocabulary; I wanted Bryce to hold me like he had on the beach that night with the kite, when all felt right with the world.
But New Bryce—all dressed up and who’d kissed my hand—was waiting for me, and as we started down the steps, I had another Braxton Hicks contraction. I had to grip the rail while Bryce looked on in concern.
“It’s getting close, isn’t it?”
“Eleven days, give or take,” I answered, wincing. When the feeling finally passed and I knew I could safely move again, I waddled the rest of the way down. From the bed of the truck, Bryce grabbed a small step stool so I could climb in, just like he’d done before we’d gone to the beach.
The drive took only a few minutes and it wasn’t until he’d turned off the engine at the end of a dirt road that I even realized we were there. Beyond the windshield, I stared at a small cottage. Unlike at my aunt’s place, the nearest neighbors were barely visible through the trees and there was no water in sight. As for the dwelling itself, it was smaller than my aunt’s, set lower to the ground, and even more dilapidated. The wooden planking was faded and peeling, the railings on the front porch appeared to be rotting away, and I noted clumps of moss on the shingles. It wasn’t until I spotted the FOR RENT sign that I felt a sudden sense of dread, my breath catching in my throat as the pieces came together.
Lost in my daze, I hadn’t heard Bryce get out of the truck, and by then he had reached my side. The door swung open, the step stool already in place. He reached for my arm and helped me down and my brain started repeating the word no…
“I know that what I’m about to say might sound crazy at first, but I’ve given it a lot of thought over the last few weeks. Trust me when I tell you it’s the only solution that makes any sense.”
I closed my eyes. “Please,” I whispered. “Don’t.”
He went on, as though he hadn’t heard me. Or maybe, I thought, I hadn’t said the words aloud, only thought them, because none of this felt real. It had to be a dream…