“So what do you think they are?”
Cara glanced at Adam, and his insistence finally registered.
“I-I’ve been reading . . . well, it’s quantum physics and a lot of it is over my head; but ever since the Higgs boson was discovered, I’ve been wondering whether all the answers were right there.” No nod. He didn’t even blink. “You know, just waiting to be translated.”
“Translated.”
My chin lifted at his tone. “Every belief system in the world has some version of messengers, miracles, magic, what have you. Power of prayer. Power of belief. Magnetizing positive energy. Souls. Guides. Maybe all these beliefs are describing the same phenomenons—just in different languages. Good and evil, matter and anti-matter, energy and . . . ”
Oh, hell. I did still have a secret.
He was frowning now, his eyes shadowed, and I thought of Sal’s. Light. Clear gray. Super-vision. Had he seen the dark energies too? His calculating looks and cold expressions . . . could he see what I could? Was he wondering whether he could trust me?
Adam’s mouth tightened, and so did my chest.
Sal would believe me.
“Lila, he does believe you.” Cara stretched to take my hand as Adam and I looked at her in surprise. “No, I don’t have a gift like yours; but I am pretty good at reading faces.” She gathered Adam’s hand, too, linking us in a chain.
His frown vanished. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t.” I smoothed my face, not wanting to trigger memories of his sister. “It’s all me. Lifetime of being the nut in the room.”
Of course he believes you.
A relieved laugh warbled up, and I trapped it behind my teeth. God, I really am crazy.
Cara squeezed my hand. “Didn’t your parents believe you?”
I pulled free, but kept my smile in place. “They did.”
“So who made you feel . . . ?”
“No one.” Her concerned look was almost worse than Adam’s. “I mean, it was my fault. I couldn’t keep my head down. My grandmother tried to raise me to keep to myself, but I was . . . ” I shied away from the words: fearless; precocious; confident. Like my daughter.
Thankfully, a loud gurgle erupted from the mounded coverlet and all attention shifted to Cara’s stomach.
“Now it’s noon,” Adam announced.
“The baby gets hungry every eight hours,” she explained. “On the dot.”
“And doesn’t let her eat much of anything, except when he—”
“Or she!”
“Or she,” he amended, “decides it’s time to eat.”
“So I wake up at four, starving for breakfast, then fall back asleep for a couple of hours; eat again at noon, at eight, and then it’s a new day all over again.” She rubbed her belly and sighed. “It’s getting kind of old, to be honest. I can’t get used to someone else dictating what I do.”
“Ugh, I had the same pattern with Eileen. Miserable.” But at least part of her pregnancy was normal.
Adam leaned over to help her maneuver to the edge of the bed, and I moved away, unsure of whether to help or give them privacy.
“I bet he’d love a break from helping me waddle around . . . would you mind?” She was good at reading faces.
“What can I do—”
“—I want to help.”
Our voices overlapped, but she wiggled her fingers at Adam in a sign of dismissal. “Scoot. It’s less embarrassing with a woman.”
He obeyed, but hesitated at the door, “Should I ask Eileen to wash up?”
“Please! You’ve got the dad brain working already.” It should have been a compliment, but I saw a flash of sadness as he turned away. Was that insensitive of me? Surely, he thought of himself as the father . . . ? Didn’t Cara . . . ?
She was trying to stand, so I hurried to help, wrapping my fingers around her thin elbows. It took two tries, but just as I wondered whether we’d need Adam after all, we managed to get her on her feet.
“Sheesh!” she complained. “Mystery baby is one thing, but did the sucker have to be so big?”
It was good to hear her joke. Maybe having a friend would help her get through this—even if said friend had absolutely no idea what was going on any more than she did. Which reminded me there were questions I needed to ask—though she might not want to answer.
As Cara lumbered to her closet, I followed, mulling over how I could bring up Sal. If she didn’t know him—and he certainly hadn’t acted as if he knew her—then why’d she been so surprised by his voice? And why keep staring and looking away? Well, that part was probably obvious. But could they both have been pretending not to know each other? Could she somehow know about his super-vision? If not, I should keep my mouth shut—we all had a right to our secrets. Which brought me back to the question of odds. Or rather, oddballs. Three in one place at one time. No offense, my friend.
I peeked around her back to see a closet as large as my bedroom. “Wow.” That summed it up. Decked out like her own boutique, it had built-in cabinets, shoe racks, and shelves with matching pink canvas baskets. There was even a dainty chandelier dripping with crystals. It was a girl’s dream closet, and I wasn’t even the girlie-dream-closet type.
“Pretty great, huh?” She seemed torn between embarrassment and a desire to show it off. “Adam wanted me to have all my old clothes around, so I’d feel like me—even though I’m a walrus.”
“Shush your mouth! You are so far from being a walrus!”
“I dunno . . . have you ever been to Sea World?” Her face crumpled in a mix of rue and mirth, and I snorted.
“Let it go, honey. Let’s get you dressed.”
As she poked among the section devoted to maternity clothes, I glanced around at her other pieces. Cara’s normal taste was demure and classic, nothing too short or too tight—exactly what I’d have assumed based on her personality. Everything was hers though. Adam must’ve relinquished the entire closet to her. Smart man.
“Need help?” I eyed the blue sundress she’d selected, wondering how she could pull it over her head without losing her balance.
“Nah, once I’m standing,
