Chapter 17: Throw It Back

Norm drove us to St. Brigid's with the heater on high and both babies in the back, one crying and one asleep.

By seven the next morning a doctor with tired eyes told us the fever was a virus, and the boy would be fine.

Ward held him through every test.

He did not put him down once, and he did not look at me.

Summer arrived at dawn in yesterday's clothes and took her son from him without a word.

I stood at the end of the hall holding Posy and a paper cup of coffee that had gone cold.

On Monday I met Ward on the courthouse steps.

His lawyer wanted me to sign a statement before the hearing, and Norm had stayed home with Posy.

It was a gray morning, and the steps were crowded.

People were coming out of municipal court, and a man was smoking by the rail.

Ward stood at the top with a folder under his arm.

He hadn't slept in three days, and it showed.

"You came," he said.

"I said I would."

"Thank you."

"Did you answer them?"

"Who?"

"Fleet Operations. The thirteenth is Thursday."

His jaw moved.

"Not yet."

"Then you've made up your mind."

"I haven't."

"They offered it Monday, and you didn't tell me, and I found out by accident in your car."

"I told you why."

"You told me when I had you cornered."

His jaw tightened, and he looked away.

"Corrine, not here."

"Where, then? You said in Norm's kitchen, 'No lies between us, not even the kind ones.' You said it to my face."

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