“But it was her walk,” Anna said, fully confident. “And why would some random woman run when I said the name Juliette?”
“Maybe it was another woman with the name Juliette,” Ford offered, though I could tell he thought the probability was incredibly low.
Peyton turned to Anna. “Let’s say it wasn’t Juliette. Let’s say it was you. If some lunatic starts calling out a random name and jogging after you, what would you do?”
“Fine,” Anna said. “I’d run too.”
All the air went out of me.
“At least you tried, Annageddon.” Ford ruffled her hair.
“You guys,” Anna said, like we were collectively exhausting. “I’m not done with the story.” She smirked. “An-y-way. I walk back inside, and the sonographer is waiting at the entrance to the imaging suite. She asks if I’m Anna. I say yes. She points tothe room I need to go into, hands me a hospital gown, and tells me to let her know when I’m dressed. As I’m peeling off my shirt, I realize there’s an ultrasound of a baby still on the screen.”
Peyton grabbed her arm. “Did it say Juliette Serrant or Julie Skinner?”
“No,” Anna said. “Because she’d be stupid to use either of those names if she felt her safety was threatened.” She met my eyes. “It said Elaine Lannister.”
“It’s her,” I blurted. “That’s Laney’s full name.”
“I know.” Anna beamed. “And if that wasn’t proof enough, there was a message typed right above the money shot.” She did a little ta-daaah with her hands. “Can’t wait to meet you, Mom. Love, Weston.”
“It’s a boy!” I punched my fists in the air. “It’s a boy!” But then I froze. “Wait. I thought you only got one ultrasound—at five months, to determine the sex? Do you think something’s wrong?”
Peyton, who I sometimes forgot had been a nurse in her former life, began ticking off her fingers. “Could be a growth check, she could be low on amniotic fluid, baby could be breech, maybe they didn’t get all the measurements they wanted at the last ultrasound, Jules could have gestational diabetes, possibly. Or maybe the placenta was low earlier, and they wanted to make sure it’s raised up enough for delivery.” She threw up her hands. “There are a hundred boring reasons that don’t mean anything’s wrong.” She tapped her foot. “But at least we know she’s probably having the baby at Honeyville Regional.”
“The question is, why?” Ford said more to himself than to us. “She hasn’t tried to make herself known to Griff or anyone since she disappeared. So why even bother to come back here? This isn’t home for her.”
“Nowhere is,” Peyton said.
I watched my sister, who was lost in thought. “Anna, what is it?”
“I have a theory.” She chewed her lip. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad. But I think… she wants to be near you when the baby’s born.”
We all grew quiet. I didn’t know about the rest of them, but I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Would Jules contact me to be with her during labor? Would she call and at least let me see him? The thought of only being in his life for a short while—or Jules’s life, for that matter—was unbearable.
“Maybe we alert the Honeyville Police Department to be on the lookout for someone who fits that description,” Ford offered.
“No,” I said too forcefully. “If she’s trying to stay hidden, it’s because she doesn’t feel safe. If she thinks anyone’s looking for her, she’ll bolt. She may have already, just from seeing Anna.”
Anna hugged herself and I could see she was thinking the same thing.
“So what do we do?” Peyton asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Pray? I don’t know what else to do.”
So that’s what we did. Right there on the hardwood floor.
And every day after. All the Duprees. Multiple times a day.
Chapter Forty
JULIETTE
Weston was trying to kill me. Either that, or he was protesting his cramped quarters. Too bad he still had at least two and a half weeks left to bake.
I leaned against the counter, rubbing the right side of my belly. “C’mon, buddy. I need you to move somewhere else.”
He kicked harder.
