Chapter 8: Ward's Count

Ward's POV

I rented a room at the Lakeview Motor Inn because I couldn't go back to the house.

It was her house too, and every picture in it had my wife in it.

I sat on the bed with my boots on.

The ship's jacket lay on the chair, still smelling like diesel and sea.

Corrine's father had lent me the shirt, and I didn't know how to give it back.

At ten o'clock somebody knocked.

I knew who it was before I opened the door.

Summer stood in the breezeway with the baby carrier hooked on her arm.

Her mascara had run down both cheeks and dried there.

"Ward," she said. "Please."

"It's late."

"I know. I took a cab. Please let me in, he's cold."

She lifted the carrier.

I stepped back.

She came in and set it on the bed, and the baby made a small hiccuping noise.

I stood by the door with my arms folded.

"Say it," I said.

"I didn't mean for any of it. It started small. You were gone so long, and it was just coffee at first, and then it was..."

"Three years."

"I was lonely."

"I called you every Sunday."

"A voice on a screen isn't a husband!"

"You were a wife to me."

She started to cry.

I didn't stop her.

"Why did you tell me the twenty-fourth?" I said.

She wiped her nose with her sleeve.

"What?"

"The due date. You said the twenty-fourth. He was born on the third."

"The doctor said..."

"Don't."

She looked at the floor.

"I wanted you to come home after," she said. "I wanted it to be done and quiet, and I wanted to tell you in person."

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