Chapter 22: Nothing Owed

Libby took the baby for the night on a Saturday, six weeks to the day after the birth.

She stood at the shop door in her coat with the car seat, a huge diaper bag, and a look of enormous satisfaction.

"I'm an ER nurse," she said. "I have kept people alive with a shoelace. Go away."

"Call me if she..."

"Greta."

"If she won't..."

"Go. Away."

She went, and the bell rang behind her.

I turned the sign to CLOSED and locked the door.

The kitchen lights were low, and Otis stood at the worktable with the ledger open and his sleeves pushed up.

He was adding a column.

I came up beside him and looked.

Four lines down, in his square handwriting, it said: Prepaid phone, $60, deducted from G's first pay.

I put my finger on it.

"You've never crossed this out."

"I didn't know if you'd want it crossed out."

"I'm done being angry at you," I said.

He put the pen down.

"I've been carrying it since December," I said. "I carried it up the stairs and into the delivery room."

"I've decided it's too heavy for a woman who sleeps in two-hour pieces."

"Greta, you were right."

"I know I was right. You should have called in October. I'd have hit you with the phone."

"And then?"

"Then I'd have thanked you." I took the pen out of his hand and crossed out the line. "Now it's done."

He looked at the line.

Then he took my face in both hands and kissed me slowly.

That was how it began, with a kiss that asked nothing of me.

I pushed him back against the counter and made the second kiss ask for everything.

His hands slid down my back and gathered the hem of my sweater.

"It's been six weeks," he said against my mouth. "The doctor said..."

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