Chapter 7: Seven Weeks

"Say it," Duncan whispered. "Please. I need to hear you say it."

The wind moved over the creek.

Eight patrol wolves, two elders and a beta's wife all pretended to study the water.

None of them breathed.

"I'm eight weeks and five days pregnant," I said. "It's yours."

Someone behind him made a small sound, half gasp and half laugh.

Duncan didn't move.

Then his knees went out from under him, and he sat down on the planks of the bridge.

He covered his mouth with his hand.

"Eight weeks," he said, through his fingers.

"Yes."

"The night in October. The night I came home early."

"Yes."

"You had a fever. You said it was nothing."

"I said it was my shoulder."

"You were in pain, and I..." He stopped. "I didn't ask. I wanted you so badly I didn't ask."

"I wanted you too," I said. "That's not the part that went wrong."

He looked up at me.

His eyes were wet, and he didn't wipe them.

"You walked nineteen miles," he said. "Carrying our child."

"I did."

"With a sewn shoulder."

"Yes."

"Hazel, you could have..." His voice broke clean in half. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I had known he would ask.

I had known it since the night in the medical center.

I had still not decided how to answer.

"Because I knew what you would do," I said.

"You'd have cleared your calendar and said all the right things."

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