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He had no idea in the world how to answer her. “This couldn’t be pre-mommy jitters, could it?”
“You’re not listening,” she declared, looking for all the world as if she were about to cry.
“I’m trying . . . but you’re not saying anything that makes sense.”
“That’s the problem. It doesn’t make sense, but I’m not making this up. It’s like I’m all over the place. Feeling things I shouldn’t. And yet, I don’t feel them, really. Not in my heart. It’s like it’s someone else and I’m watching myself from a distance.”
Hale regarded her soberly. He hardly knew what to say. “It sounds like fear.”
She blinked a couple of times. “I am afraid.”
“Of having a baby?”
She didn’t answer.
“Have you talked to Savannah about this?” he asked.
“I called her, but she can’t come over till later. Work, I guess. It always is.” She clenched her teeth, then shook her head and shrugged her shoulders several times. “Oh, let’s not talk about it anymore.”
“Wait. We need to—”
“What do you want to do about dinner? I’m not hungry.”
Hale fought back an angry comeback. He knew better. Whenever she changed her mind like this, further discussion was impossible.
This had become another usual thing for them. Separate meal times by virtue of different schedules. The only problem was Kristina was turning into skin and bones. She was never hungry. “We could go to that Italian restaurant,” he suggested, tamping down his frustration, hoping to continue the conversation later.
“Gino’s? It’ll take too long. I want to be here when Savvy gets here.”
“How about if we order and I go pick up?”
“I said I wasn’t hungry.”
“I’ll just get something for me, then.”
She didn’t respond, and Hale gave up and headed for the phone. Unlike Kristina, he was half starved. It had been a long day even before he got to his grandfather’s house, and he’d missed lunch. The wine was going straight to his head, and he needed to counteract the effects.
He ordered chicken and artichoke linguine, a Caesar salad, and garlic bread, enough for two regardless of what she’d said, then drank a glass of water as he waited for the fifteen minutes to pass while the food was being prepared. Kristina poured herself a second glass of wine, but s
he didn’t touch it while he was there.
He drove to the restaurant and noticed she’d left her overnight bag in his car—again. She was forever borrowing the TrailBlazer for a quick trip over the mountains, then forgetting her bag. Then again, she was forgetting a lot these days, like how desperately she had wanted a child.
When he returned from Gino’s with the bag, she was nowhere in sight. He filled two plates with the food, set them on the counter, then went in search of his wife. She was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and staring into space. The untouched wine was sitting on the nightstand.
“You’re starting to really worry me,” he said.
“I don’t want you to leave me, Hale. Whatever happens. Promise me you won’t leave me.”
“What the hell, Kristina?” This was a new tack for her.
“Promise me,” she insisted.
“I’m not going to leave you.”
“Even if you find out terrible things about me?”
He started to answer automatically, to lie, but stopped himself. “I’m not doing this. I’m going to eat,” he said and stalked back down the hall, his heart heavy with doubts and his head full of worries about the future.
