“I’m the father!”

“Then act like it. You have to care about this baby, and you have to take care of this baby—”

“I do care about the baby. That’s why I want to sue Homestead.”

“That’s not why you want to sue Homestead. You want to sue Homestead because you’re angry. You’re angry at them for picking Jeffcoat. You’re angry at yourself because you’re infertile. You’re angry at the world and you’re taking it out on Homestead! You don’t really care about the baby.”

“And you say you care about the baby but you really care about Zachary. You admit you have a connection with him. How am I supposed to deal with that?”

“Admit that you have a connection to him, too.” Christine was freewheeling, but it was her heart talking. “Because if this is going to be our child, and you’re going to be the father, then you do have a connection to Jeffcoat. Share it with me.”

“What are you talking about? What are you asking from me?”

“Zachary is down there, he’s in prison. He’s our donor and he could be in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. I’m not going to turn my back on him.”

“You didn’t, you got him a lawyer!”

“And I’m not going to wash my hands of him just because I did that.” Christine felt like it was finally time for her to face her feelings. “I’m worried about him. I feel bad for him. I think he’s innocent. I don’t think he committed that murder—”

“Christine, you’re being naïve. You heard what Gary said.”

“Either way, I have to find out for myself.” Christine knew what she wanted to do, and it wasn’t stay home, obsess about Zachary, and weed her garden. “I want to go back down there and see how I can help him. I want to make sure he has what he needs—”

“What? Are you serious?”

“I am asking you if you would come with me.”

“No!” Marcus snapped. “Absolutely not. I’m not going down there.”

“Marcus, please. Come with me.” Christine tried to think of an argument to persuade him. She felt a glimmer of hope that if they could go together, they could get their marriage back on track. “When this baby grows up, do you want to tell him that his biological father is behind bars, a murderer? Would our baby feel good when he finds out that his biological father was in jail for a crime he didn’t commit? And that we didn’t help him when we could? Do you know what that can do to a child? Can’t you think ahead? Can’t you get past the fact that we needed a donor?”

“Christine, enough. You’re asking too much. You’re just asking too much of me.”

“I can deal with it, why can’t you, Marcus? I can’t deny that he exists and that he’s in trouble. Come with me or not.”

“You can’t go!”

“You’re my husband, not my principal.” Christine folded her arms. “Are you coming with me or not? It’s your choice.”

Chapter Thirty-two

The next morning, Christine crossed into New Jersey, glancing at the dashboard clock, which read 9:15. She’d gone to bed last night without another word to Marcus, who’d slept downstairs with Murphy and Lady. She’d packed some clothes and sneaked out at five thirty, with nobody even stirring, which didn’t surprise her. Marcus was the heaviest sleeper in history, with the dog a close second. She suspected the cat saw her go but didn’t care.

Rain pounded on the windshield, and the wipers flapped to keep it clear. Her stomach had finally stabilized after a bout of morning sickness, and she was making excellent time driving south on I-95 in remarkably light traffic. Marcus hadn’t texted or called, and she wasn’t about to contact him. But she had some bases she had to cover.

Her phone was on its holder on the dashboard, and she waited until it was safe to dial, then pressed the phone screen for her mother’s number. The phone rang only once, and her mother picked up. “Hey, Christine, how are you this morning?”

“Great, I just wanted to see how you guys were.”

“Your dad’s having some breakfast. We’re out of ketchup, so he’s not a happy camper.”

“But how are you?” Christine asked, making it a point. Her mother had become such an excellent caregiver that she routinely placed her needs second.

“I’m fine.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Christine knew her mother had been having trouble sleeping.

“Great. We had the air conditioner on. So what are you doing? You sound like you’re in the car already.”

“I’m having fun.” Christine felt a twinge of guilt but let it go. She had to keep lying or her mother would worry. “I’m going back down to Lauren’s family’s house for a few more days. She had to go back, but I’m staying to decompress after school.”

“That’s a wonderful idea! Good for you! You do so much, you need the break. Is Marcus going to join you?”

“No, he has to work, and Lauren can’t leave the kids.”

“So you’re all by yourself?”

“Yes, but I’m looking forward to it. I bought a bunch of books and I’m going to read myself into a coma on the beach.”

“Oh that does sound wonderful,” her mother said, and Christine could hear the wistfulness in her tone.

“I wish I could’ve brought you, Mom.” Christine realized her parents hadn’t taken a vacation since her father had been diagnosed, five years ago. Changes of scenery and routine disturbed her father, so they stayed home.

“Another time.”

“Yes, another time,” Christine said, knowing that there would be no other time. Her mother knew the same thing, but they said the words anyway, a comforting call-and-response between a loving mother and daughter.

“I better go, I need to help your dad with breakfast.”

“Can I say hi to him?”

“Not just now, okay, sweetie? I want him to finish his meal.”

“Of course. Tell him I said hi and I love him.”

“I will. Love you. Drive safe. Stop if you get tired. Don’t go in the water after you eat.”

Christine smiled. “Yes, Mommy.”

“What a comedian.” Her mother chuckled, then hung up, and Christine pressed the button to end the call, then called Lauren, who picked up after three rings.