Phil snickered, but I had no idea what anyone else was doing because Sal wouldn’t let my eyes leave his face. His gaze was at once piercing and electric, and . . . sad. Why was he sad? I felt my face grow hot, but he looked away first.
I detached myself and risked a peek at Maureen. Mistake. I knew to ignore Phil, whose smirk was noticeable even from the corner of my eye. And Adam . . . ? His expression was . . . confusing. My chest tightened again. Definitely time for me to go.
“Well, this has been fun, but I need to say goodnight, too . . . and Cara’s probably wondering where Adam is. Thank you both for inviting me tonight!” The social niceties were so mundane. If only I could say, Look. I’ve seen some weird shit tonight, and Adam’s wife might be carrying the mutant spawn of a demon, so . . . I gotta split. Thanks for the fondue. It was yummy.
Uh-oh. My personal limit was on the horizon. I needed coffee. Immediately.
We made our way to the foyer where I grabbed my purse and stepped back out into the cool, salty night, a little anxious at having left Cara for so long. Her peaked face was just barely visible through the cab’s tinted windows, but she managed a little wave. Everyone was outside now, and Maureen and Phil had linked their arms around each other’s waists as we exchanged our goodbyes.
Sal’s posture and expression were overly formal, but he seemed to be making a sincere effort to thank the couple for inviting him. I wasn’t listening though, because Adam had paused beside me on his way to the truck.
“So, you and Cara . . . talked?”
I kept my eyes on Cara, but nodded. Seeing her face again had triggered that rush of reality I’d known was coming. I really couldn’t say anything else to him, or her, until I’d had a chance to assimilate the enormity of what her pregnancy represented. I’d been wrong to so casually lump it in with the daily strangeness of my own life. This was another level entirely. Hell, compared to my world, hers was in another universe entirely.
“Thank you.” His voice was pitched too low for anyone else to hear—not that the words would have meant anything to the others, but the tone was all wrong. His thank you was fervent and pained—the gratitude of a man terrified of losing the one he loved, and desperate to do what he could for her.
“Tell her I’ll see her again soon, okay? I’m off tomorrow if she wants to call.” I waved cheerily at her and made sure my voice was loud enough to carry through the truck windows. Her answering smile was bigger than I’d expected. Maybe she’d been worried that I’d changed my mind about believing her. “My number’s listed. Lilith Ann Givens.”
He nodded and headed toward the driver’s side, but stopped at the rear bumper. “Where’s Sal’s car?”
Huh. Good question. I turned to look and was surprised to find he’d taken Adam’s place beside me.
“I utilized public transportation.”
“You rode the bus?”
That was something beyond Phil’s comprehension, and quite honestly, beyond mine as well. To be dependent on someone else’s timetable was not my cup of tea. Or coffee.
“But we’re at least four miles from the closest stop!”
Another good point, Maureen. We weren’t in an urban city with a bus stop on every block. Wilmington didn’t even have blocks except for downtown; it was pretty much just a sprawling tangle of roads leading to the various beaches.
“I do not possess a vehicle.”
Oh, hell. There were plenty of reasons why someone might not have a car, but I’d bet we were all thinking of just one. And here we’d put him on the spot like that. And in front of a multi-million dollar house, no less. So much for Southern manners.
“I’ll drive you home.”
My mouth had opened before my brain could stop it, and sure enough, my words triggered an abundance of visuals that I was ill-equipped to process. Phil and Maureen’s Cheshire grins, Adam’s frown, Cara’s wide-eyed concern, and a gumball-sized pop of neon-red light all competed for my attention. So, naturally, I focused my overworked eyes on Sal’s smoky quartz ones. “But first, a pit stop for coffee.”
Small Decisions
As we drove along the quiet streets, my Bronco’s hungry rumble was the only sound in the cab. Even when the headlights skirted a doe and fawn grazing on someone’s hedge, we still didn’t speak. For my part, I just needed the silence. Offering him a ride had been the right thing to do, but once he was in the truck, I had nothing to say.
First, I wanted my coffee, because when Eileen wasn’t around it was my tether to reality. Sad, but true. Then, I wanted to be in my bed, lights out, pondering Cara’s plight and the black things—energies?—until I either fell asleep, or found a hypothesis that might . . . might what? Make sense? Give her a little peace of mind? Nothing was going to help short of God, Himself, showing up and saying, It’s okay, dear. Mary was freaked out, too.
I held in a sigh, conscious of Sal in the passenger seat. It must have been simpler back then. Miracles happened, and people accepted them. Except for all the people stoned to death, or burned at the stake, or . . . okay, maybe it wasn’t so easy for Mary either. We only had one version of that history. Her personal diary might’ve been another story entirely.
Nowadays, if Cara told anyone she was having an unfathered baby, she risked being whisked off to a secret research facility for invasive testing. Or she might be offered a reality show deal. Either way, the powers-that-be would try to take the baby from her.
And Adam? Instead of being seen as a loyal husband, he’d be judged an attention-seeking enabler or an idiot too vain to admit his girlfriend had cheated on
