I’d gathered that he and Cara hadn’t been intimate before they married, which is why she was so sure her pregnancy was abnormal. That, and the fact that her doctor was insisting the child’s development was more in line with a thirty-two or thirty-three week gestation, though she’d only skipped her first period in November. Thirty weeks in less than twenty. A hard chill set into my bones as I contemplated that.
I thought of my own pregnancy, and how I’d felt Eileen growing inside me—and had even felt I could communicate with her. How terrifying would it have been to feel a life I couldn’t explain kicking and stretching within my body? And yet Cara was still carrying the child, so she must love him in spite of her fear . . . ? A shiver rattled me, and I flipped the heat on and shook my hair free of its knot.
My initial impression of Cara didn’t do her justice. She had every reason in the world to be shy and introverted, uncomfortable with attention in case someone asked questions she couldn’t answer; but this young woman was not the childlike figure I’d thought her to be. Her strength was astonishing. What made her capable of enduring this? It had to be more than just Adam’s support, however loving. Maybe she had a religious belief that was giving her strength and guidance. Maybe they both did.
My own beliefs were more complicated, having spent most of my literate lifetime perusing the religions and esoteric myths of the world in search of explanations for phenomena I knew first-hand to be real. Physics seemed to be offering the best theories—if not answers—these days, but I didn’t think Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle could quite explain this.
When the guard house came in to view, I eased off the gas and slowly rolled up, not sure if I was required to stop since we were leaving. Then I remembered the visitor’s pass and stomped on the brake just as the grim-faced guard—the same one as earlier—came out with his flashlight in hand. I smiled as I returned the pass, but he ignored me and shone his flashlight into the back seat and cargo area before flicking it over Sal, and then finally waving me on. Jerk. I elected not to use my signal when I turned onto the highway.
“His thoroughness was not meant as an insult. He merely takes pride in doing his job well.” Sal’s voice was soft, and I glanced over in surprise. There weren’t many streetlights on this road, but I could just make out the sharp cuts of his right cheekbone as he looked at me.
“That’s very kind-hearted of you, but he’s doing his job a bit too well. Would it k-kk-kill him to s-smile?” Jesus, how cold was it supposed to be tonight? I cranked the heat up another notch.
I didn’t expect a response—from Sal or Jesus—so my mind was busy plotting the quickest route to the closest late night coffee shop when the man in the truck surprised me again.
“Emotions are not always helpful.”
I risked another glance, this time noting the set of his jaw and the unnaturally perfect lines of his shadowed profile as he stared out the windshield. Oncoming headlights swept across him, but he didn’t blink.
“Are we still talking about the guard?” I waited, eyes safely back on the road, but this time I didn’t get an answer.
I was so cold now. There was an all-night donut shop a couple of miles from here—surely they had coffee. A seismic shudder struck me and I frowned down at the heater. The controls were hard to see in the dark, so I felt for the lever, making sure I’d pushed it all the way to the right. Sal shifted slightly, sweltering no doubt, but nothing short of a roaring fire would make me let go of the steering wheel again. Hot coffee,I reminded myself as we turned into the parking lot. Really hot coffee. My arms were so stiff that I hadn’t even used my blinker.
After pulling into the front spot, it took a supreme effort to pry my fingers from the wheel and shove the gear shift into park—and even more willpower not to stick my hands under my armpits. Why hadn’t I brought a jacket?
Sal seemed interested in the diverse late-night clientele visible among the vinyl booths inside—or maybe he was just trying to read the menu from here. He’d eaten more of the chocolate fondue than anyone else.
“Want anything?” I poked into my purse for money.
“No.” Now he was staring at a rough-looking young man waiting in line at the counter. The guy kept shuffling from foot to foot and hiking up his pants—he reminded me of a toddler doing the potty dance.
“Be right back. Um . . . you probably don’t want this.” I flicked the heat off and opened my door, but my shoes had just touched the pavement when something rushed at me. An invisible mass shoved my chest, and I scootched back into the cab, unresisting. This had happened twice before in my life, and I wasn’t about to ignore it now. I reached for the door handle. Time to go.
“Down!” Sal pulled me face-first into his lap. I protested against his zipper, but he leaned over me to slam the door, then rolled me onto the floorboard. “Stay there!”
His voice was a frightening blend of absolute authority and anger, yet I knew my warning hadn’t been about him. Something else was happening—and from inside the donut shop I heard a high-pitched scream and a man yelling. A robbery! I wriggled my shoulders to try to lift up—but my body was too long to be crammed under the dashboard and my legs were stuck on the driver’s side. I couldn’t move.
“Be still!” He sounded like he was in pain.
My left arm was pinned beneath me, and I tugged on his pants with my free hand. “Don’t let him see you! He’ll think you can identify him!” Why wasn’t he ducking? “Lie
