Chapter 22: No Appointment

Winslow's POV

She walked out to the end of the Taft dock without telling me why.

I followed her.

The boards were wet from the morning, and the lake was flat and gray under a pale gray sky.

She stopped at the last post and looked at the water.

I had been waiting for her to say something since the cemetery.

I had learned that with Coralie, waiting was the part I was good at.

"The clinic card," she said.

"What about it?"

"You still carry it."

I did.

It was in my wallet, behind my driver's license, a stiff white card with a Thursday on it that I had canceled.

I took it out.

I had not thrown it away because it proved what I had been willing to give up for her.

"I carry it to remember," I said.

"Remember what?"

"That I would have done it. For you. Without asking what it cost me."

She turned around.

Her curls were blowing across her mouth, and she held them back with one hand.

"I was afraid to tell you the truth," she said. "That's the whole reason. I told you I didn't like children, and it was a wall."

"I know."

"I'm not saying now. I'm saying I might, someday. With you. If you'll wait."

My chest had stopped.

"I'm saying it so you'll stop carrying a card," she said, a little unsteadily. "I want it gone."

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