Chapter 9: Imogen Is Kind

On Friday I rode into the city on the morning bus, with a ball cap pulled low.

My son was home with Bree.

I needed my money.

Every card I owned had burned in the fire.

The bank on Main Street needed me in person, with a new license.

The license still said MacDuff.

I came out of the bank at eleven with an envelope of cash in my coat and my heart going fast.

Across the street was Heller's Flowers.

A woman was coming out of the shop with her arms full of white lilies.

She was wearing a gray cardigan.

I stepped back into the bank doorway, but she had already turned her head.

The lilies hit the sidewalk.

"Calla?" Imogen said.

She ran across the street without looking.

A delivery van braked and honked at her, and she didn't hear it.

Before I could move, her arms were around my neck and her face was against my shoulder, and she was sobbing.

"Oh, thank God," she said. "Oh, thank God, thank God. You're alive. Are you hurt? Is Bree with you?"

"Imogen," I said.

"I thought you were both gone. They said you left the hospital and nobody knew where."

"I'm fine."

"Dalton hasn't slept. He's out of his mind."

"Your poor back. I heard it was your back." She held me away and looked me over.

Her eyes were wet and green and full of kindness.

"And the babies. Oh, honey. I'm so sorry about the babies."

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