Chapter 15: Round Ligament

By Monday night I had given a statement to a bank officer, a police detective and two lawyers' receptionists, and I had eaten four crackers.

June had driven to a funeral in Dodgeville.

I was alone in the barn, standing at the loom, when the first cramp came.

It was low and sharp, and it stole my hands from the shuttle.

I held the frame until it let go.

Then I sat on the stool and did not move, and the headlights of a car swung across the barn wall.

Someone knocked on the doorframe.

"Bethany? It's Evan. You left your laptop bag in my kitchen."

I tried to answer.

What came out was a sound, and he was across the floor before I finished it.

He crouched in front of the stool, one hand flat on my knee.

His other hand went to my wrist, and I felt him count.

"Tell me where," he said. His voice had changed. It was calm and quick, the voice he used at work.

"Low. It's gone now."

"How long?"

"A few minutes. It's the first one."

"Any bleeding?"

"No."

"Dizzy?"

"A little."

"When did you last eat?"

"Four crackers."

He closed his eyes for half a second.

"Okay," he said. "I'm taking you in. It's probably nothing, and I'm not letting you find out alone on a stool."

"I'm not going to your hospital. Everyone there knows Shelby."

"Everyone there also knows me," Evan said. "Come on."