They were sitting at the breakfast table. They’d already eaten and Clay was having one last cup of coffee while Andie nursed her peppermint tea. It was a beautiful day, especially now, in the morning, with the air just a tad breezy and the windows open. Later, Andie would close up the house and turn on the air conditioner to fight the fierce heat of the afternoon. But just now, it was lovely.

Andie was planning to stay home all day. At the office now, Linda was managing fine. So Andie had decided to start taking it easier, with the baby due in a month. She had slashed her own hours to twenty a week. It was working out quite well.

“More coffee?” Andie asked.

Clay rustled his paper and grunted. Andie lumbered to her feet and shuffled over to the sink, thinking wryly of beached whales, of grounded hippos, cursing the power of gravity and swearing she wouldn’t let it get her down.

The phone rang just as she stuck her mug of water in the microwave to heat. The phone was on the wall, not far from where Clay sat. But he was absorbed in his paper.

Andie waddled on over there and picked it up. “Hello?”

A silence, then a strange woman’s voice. “Oh. Hello.” The voice hesitated. “Is this Clay Barrett’s house?”

Andie smiled. An old girlfriend of Clay’s, she thought, someone he hadn’t seen in a while who didn’t know he’d been married. “Yes, it is.”

The woman took in a breath. “Well, I…” The voice trailed off. “I wonder if…” Andie began to think the woman sounded troubled, or under some sort of strain. “Please. This is Madeline Kirkland. I need to… May I speak with Clay?”

As soon as Andie heard the name, she felt dizzy. She gripped the section of kitchen counter right beside her to steady herself. Madeline Kirkland, Jeff’s wife. What could she want? What possible reason could she have for calling Clay?

The worst came immediately to mind: that Madeline had somehow found out about the baby.

“Hello, are you there?”

Andie forced herself to speak. “Yes. Of course. Just a minute.” She put her hand over the receiver.

Clay had already lowered his paper. He was looking at her, alarmed by what he saw. “Andie, what—?”

“Madeline,” she said. “Madeline Kirkland.” She held the phone close to her heavy belly, not extending it, almost hoping he’d refuse to take the call.

Clay looked at the receiver, his thought the same as Andie’s.

He didn’t want to take it. He wanted to shake his head and walk out of the room. If it had been Jeff, he would have.

But it wasn’t Jeff. It was Madeline. Innocent Madeline. Clay thought the world of Madeline.

He stood. Andie put the phone in his hand.

“Sit down,” he said quietly to his pale wife, before he spoke into the receiver. “Hello, Madeline.”

“Clay? Oh, Clay…”

“What is it?”

“Clay, you’ve been a stranger.” Her voice sounded so odd, fiercely controlled yet edged with frenzy. He was positive that somehow she had found out the truth about Jeff and Andie and the baby. “We’ve missed you, Clay. Very much.”

“Well, I…” What the hell could he say? “I’ve been busy. Really busy. I, um, got married.”

“Oh, Clay. You did? Was that her? Did she answer the phone?”

“Yes. I’m sure I’ve mentioned her. My cousin by adoption. Andie.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember. Andie was the one you used to always fight with when you were kids, right?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Well. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

There was an absolutely deadly pause. Andie was staring at him, agony in her eyes. And he still had no clue what was going on with Madeline.

Madeline said, “Oh, Clay. I don’t know how…” And then her voice closed off. She made a painful, choking sound, then managed to control herself. “My mother was going to do this. But I…I thought it would help me. To hear your voice. Jeff loved you so.”

Loved. Past tense. “Madeline?”

“Oh, I’m making a mess of this.”

“Of what?”

“Of telling you.”

“Telling me what?”

“About Jeff. Oh, Clay. He… Jeff died, Clay. Yesterday.”

Clay sank to his chair, not even realizing he was sitting down until he was already there.

In his ear, tight and frantic, Madeline kept on. “He bought this new sports car. It was beautiful. But you know Jeff. A new toy. He played…he played too hard with it. He went too fast.”

“Too fast?”

“Yes. Down Mulholland. Like some crazy kid. You know Mulholland, don’t you, Clay? All those turns. He…” A sound came from Madeline, a keening sound. It started out low and slid impossibly high. Clay waited, while she gathered her forces once more. “He went over the cliff. It was a vertical drop, about two hundred feet. He died instantly, they told me. He didn’t suffer any pain.”

Beside him, Andie spoke. She asked if he was okay. He waved her away. He couldn’t deal with her now. There was a huge something, like a rock, inside his chest. He breathed around it. He did not let himself remember Jeff, on the beach that last time, his hands in his pockets, the gulls wheeling overhead.

“All right, bud. I’m dead….”

“Clay?” Madeline said.

Clay closed his eyes and rubbed at the sockets, rubbed the memory away. He reminded himself that Madeline had just lost the man she’d loved all her life and that Madeline was the one to think about now.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Oh, Clay…”

“What? Anything. Tell me.”

“I knew you’d say that. Thank you.”

“What?”

“Okay. Yes, I’ll tell you. The funeral’s the day after tomorrow. Saturday. At eleven in the morning. It would mean a lot to me if you’d be there.”

He answered automatically. “Of course I will.”

“And would you be a pallbearer?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Oh, that’s good. It will be good. To see your face. To remember the good times.”

“Yes. The good times.”

“Do you want to stay at the house?”

His numbed mind tried to follow what she was asking him. “The house?”

“The new house. You were there, remember, that last time you dropped in, several months ago? When you and Jeff got mugged at the beach?”

“Oh. Yeah.” So that was what Jeff had told her.

“I’m not staying there myself. I just can’t, not now. I’m at my parents’ house for a while. But if you’d like to—”

“No. Listen. I’ll get a hotel room. It’s no problem. Where is the funeral and what time do I need to be there?”

Beside him, Andie gasped. Clay realized he’d been doing his best to block her out of his mind. Now she’d heard the word funeral and was starting to put things together.

“Jeff? Is it Jeff?” Andie asked. Her eyes were two black smudges in her white, white face.

Clay nodded. Then he stood to take the pencil from the notepad that was hanging on the wall by the base of the phone. Madeline gave him the information he needed and he scribbled it down. Then he promised to be there tomorrow.

“I’ll call you,” he said, “as soon as I get there.”

“You’ll call me at my parents’ house?” Madeline asked.

“Right. What’s the number there?”

Madeline rattled off the number, then went on, “Yes, please call. I’d appreciate that. Things are crazy. I hope we can spend a little time together, but I don’t know how things will go.”

“I understand.”

“It might not seem that I appreciate your being there. But I do. I really do. He loved you so. You’re everything he ever wanted to be—did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“It’s true. He used to tell me that. That he wished he could be like you. You always worked so hard, knew what you wanted and kept your goals in mind whatever you did. And with you, responsibility was like a sacred trust.” Madeline gave a strangled little laugh. “That’s how he said it, ‘With Clay, responsibility is like a sacred trust.’”

“Look, Madeline, I—”

“I know, I know. I’m babbling. But I can’t seem to help it. And I just want you to know these things. I want to say them now, when they’re in my head and I have the chance. Because I’m grateful to you Clay, I really am.”

“For what?”

“Oh, Clay. I know that whatever you said to him over the holidays last year, whatever happened then, it made all the difference. When he came back, he was changed. He really wanted to marry me then. Always before, there’d been something in him that held back. We had a marriage, we were together, for at least a little while. And a lot of that was because of you.”

“I understand,” Clay said again. What the hell else could he say to something like that?

“Well, I…thanks for listening.” Madeline said.

“It’s okay.”

“I should go.”

“Of course.”

“But I’ll see you tomorrow, or at the funeral.”

“Yes. Whatever. You take care.”

“I will. Goodbye.”

The line went dead. Clay hung the receiver back on the wall.

“Clay?” Andie was looking up at him, her face a blank, her eyes haunted. “Oh, Clay. It’s Jeff?”

“Yes.”

“Dead?” She said the word on a whisper, as if she hardly dared utter it.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Yesterday. A car accident. He bought a new car and drove it too fast.”

“Oh.” Andie grimaced, touched her belly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. The shock.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She put her hand against her mouth, shook her head. “Oh, I’m so sorry. It’s so awful. That poor woman.”

“Yes. She asked me to go to the funeral. I’m going, for her sake.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll fly down tomorrow.”

“Oh, Clay. Are you all right?” She reached for his hand.

He moved just enough that she didn’t connect. “I’m fine. Really.” He looked at his watch. “I should get going.”

She stared at him. “Where?”

“To work. I’ll be late.”

“Work? Now? Clay, I don’t think—”

“I’ve really got to go.”

“But—”

“Can you call and get me a flight? Tomorrow afternoon would be best. I could check in at the office in the morning, see that everything’s under control and then fly out of Sacramento later in the day. Will you do that?”

“Of course, but don’t you think that—?”

“If you can’t get an afternoon flight, then do what you can. Morning, if you have to. Or night, if all else fails. And I’d like to return as early as possible Sunday.”

“I understand. But, Clay—”

“And also, can you get me a reservation at a decent hotel in Brentwood or nearby? The funeral will be in Brentwood and I’d like to keep surface travel to a minimum. And I’ll need a rental car.”

“All right. I’ll take care of it. But I—”

“I have to go, Andie. I have to get out of here.”

“Clay, I really don’t think you should drive right now.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Please, Clay. Stay home for a while. Just let yourself get adjusted to what’s happened, before you get into a car.” Her voice was reasonable, very controlled. But her eyes were pleading with him.

He understood that she was worried for him and that she probably didn’t want to be alone. But he knew he could handle himself all right in a car. And as far as her needs, he just couldn’t think about them at the moment. He didn’t have anything to give her right now. He was empty inside, except for that huge, rocklike something that filled up his chest.

“I have to go.” He moved swiftly, around the table and across the room to the hall. He went to the coat closet, grabbed his briefcase and jacket. Then he fled to the garage.

He flung open the door of the car, tossed his briefcase across the seat and jumped in. He’d backed out of the garage and sent the door rumbling down again with the aid of the automatic opener before he allowed himself to relax a fraction. By then, he was sure that Andie wasn’t going to try to follow him.

 

In the house, Andie sat in the kitchen chair for several minutes before she did anything else. She practiced breathing slowly and evenly. She tried to absorb the enormity of what had just occurred.

Jeff Kirkland was dead. Clay’s best friend, the biological father of her child, was gone for good and all.

It didn’t seem possible. He was out of their lives, yes. They probably would never have seen him again, anyway. Yet Andie had always assumed he would go on living his own life down there in Los Angeles, married to a woman named Madeline.

But now, fate had played the cruelest of tricks. Now Jeff Kirkland wouldn’t go on. And that seemed hideous to Andie. Hideous and wrong.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Madeline. Madeline would have to go on. Andie had never even met Madeline. Yet she knew the kind of pain Madeline must be suffering. Madeline was near her own age, a young woman, newly married, just like herself. And now Madeline was a widow.

What would that be like, to be a widow? To live the rest of her life without Clay? Andie thought of sleeping in their bed alone, sitting here at the breakfast table every morning alone. Such thoughts brought with them an empty, vast kind of pain.

“Oh, Clay,” she whispered to herself, picturing him barreling along Wildriver Road, attempting the impossible, trying to outrun the anguish of losing his best friend twice. “Be careful, my darling,” she whispered fervently. “Keep yourself safe.” She closed her eyes and sent a little prayer winging toward heaven, a prayer for his safety, and then another for Madeline, whom she didn’t even know.

Andie felt her own guilt in this, the guilt that had always been there since her one foolish night with Jeff Kirkland. What Clay would have to suffer now would be doubly hard because of what she herself had done.

Clay hated deceptions, yet he would go to Jeff’s funeral and pretend, for Madeline’s sake, that everything was as it had always been. That the dead man had never stopped being his friend.

All because Andie McCreary and Jeff Kirkland had behaved so irresponsibly last New Year’s Eve.

Yet how could Andie totally regret her own thoughtless indiscretion? It had brought the baby, who, even now, unborn, seemed such an important and transformative part of her life. And, in a roundabout, crazy way, it had brought her the true love she’d given up on finding.

Sometimes she wondered if, without the baby, she and Clay would ever have found their way to each other. They had such a history of hostility. They had both been so careful, over the years, to shield themselves from any intimate contact with each other. It had taken something enormous, another life coming, to break through all the walls.

For the baby’s sake, Clay had given himself permission to pursue her. And because of the baby, she had been vulnerable. The walls had come down.

Would Jeff’s death raise the walls all over again?

Andie shook her head. She couldn’t afford to think such a thing.

With a little sigh, she rose. There were dishes to put in the dishwasher. And maybe after that, she’d go upstairs and make the bed. Put a load of laundry in the washing machine, dust the glass tables in the living room.

And then, when she was reasonably sure she could talk without bursting into tears, she’d call a travel agent she knew in town and see about making the arrangements for the trip to Los Angeles.

 

After she made the arrangements, Andie called Clay at the office. Linda said he couldn’t come on the line right then. He would get back to her.

Andie was so relieved to hear he was there and safe that she didn’t worry too much about his refusal to come to the phone. But then, a few hours later, when she called again and got the same response from Linda, Andie began to believe that Clay was evading her.

But she didn’t allow herself to stew about it. He was upset about Jeff. She understood that. And he needed time to accept what had happened. She didn’t call him again.

Instead, she called Ruth Ann. Ruth Ann cried when Andie told her about Jeff’s death.

“Blessed Mother Mary,” Ruth Ann sobbed. “Why am I doing this? I loathed and despised that jerk for what he did to you.”

“It’s because you have a big heart, Ruthie. And because no man should die when he’s young and strong and still has years of life ahead of him.”

Ruth Ann sobbed some more and blew her nose. “That’s right. That is so right.” She sniffed. “How’s Clay taking it?”

“Not well, so far. But it was only this morning that we heard.”

“He needs time.”

“I know.”

“Listen, how about if I come over?”

“No, I’m fine. But thanks.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you know I’m here. Just call. And I’ll be there.”

“I know, Ruthie. And it helps. It really does.”

After that, Andie called her mother.

“Oh, Andie. Such a young man,” Thelma said. “It’s a tragedy.”

“Yes.”

“His poor parents. I think that would be the worst thing. To have a child die before you.”

“I believe that both of his parents are dead, Mom.”

“Oh. How sad. He seemed like a nice young man, too. I’m so sorry. How’s Clay?”

“As well as can be expected. He’s at work now.”

“Will he be going to the funeral?”

“Yes. Jeff’s wife, Madeline, asked him to be a pallbearer.”

“And of course he will.”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Well, with the baby coming and all, I suppose it’s wisest if you stay at home.”

“No, I’m going.” Andie came to the decision just as she said the words. “I don’t want Clay to be alone.”

Andie expected her mother to argue with her, to launch into all the reasons she should stay home and be careful of her unborn baby. But Thelma surprised her. Her voice was sad and accepting. “I know what you mean. If it were your father’s friend…well, I do understand. And you’re feeling all right, aren’t you?”

“I’m feeling just fine, Mom.”

“How long will you be down there?”

“We’ll leave Friday and be back by Sunday afternoon.” Andie gave her mother the phone number of the hotel. As soon as she hung up, Andie called the travel agent again and managed to add herself to all the reservations. After that, she went to see her doctor, who provided the release form that the travel agent had said she’d need in order to fly this late in her pregnancy.

Clay arrived home at 7:49. Andie forced herself not to run—or in her case, waddle—out to the garage the minute she heard the door rolling open. Instead, she calmly pulled his dinner from the oven where she’d been keeping it warm and set it on the table.

She heard the inside garage door open and close, his footsteps on the hardwood floor. She heard him stop at the coat closet, to get rid of his jacket and his briefcase. At last, he appeared.

“I stopped by Doolin’s.” Doolin’s was a bar in town. “For a drink.”

She gave him a warm smile and didn’t mention that he’d never stopped by Doolin’s before in the five months they’d been married. “I kept your dinner warm.”

“I’ll wash my hands.”

Clay came to the table five minutes later. Andie sat opposite him, sipping a glass of milk as he doggedly ate.

“Did you make the plane reservations?”

“Yes.”

“For what time?”

“Two in the afternoon tomorrow. Out of Sacramento, arriving at LAX at 3:10.”

“That’s perfect. What about the hotel?”

“The Casa de la Reina. Triple A gives it four stars. And it’s about two miles from the church.”

“That sounds fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She waited quietly as he finished up the meal. He talked of the office, of how well Linda was doing, of a dispute with a new client, a big account that Clay had knocked himself out to acquire, but now was just about to kiss goodbye.

“He wants to make a lot of money, and then pay zero taxes. I told him I’m good, but I won’t cheat for him. It went downhill from there.”

Andie listened sympathetically and waited for him to talk about what was really on his mind: Jeff.

It never happened. The few hours until bedtime slipped by.

After he brushed his teeth, Clay left the bathroom while Andie was still washing her face. When she returned to the bedroom, the light was off and Clay was a motionless lump on his side of the bed.

Suppressing a sigh, Andie approached her own side. Once there, she positioned her nest of pillows and then carefully arranged herself so that her upper knee was supported and her stomach rested comfortably on a pillow of its own. Through this procedure, Clay, who usually made a big production of moving her pillows around for her until she had them just right, remained still as a stone.

Andie settled in. She closed her eyes. She told herself to be patient, to give him time.

Yet she couldn’t resist asking hesitantly, “Clay, are you awake?”

No answer. But she could feel the tension coming from him. He was not asleep.

“Clay, don’t you think we should talk?”

He stirred, rolled over and gently patted her shoulder. “Go to sleep, Andie. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

And that was all. Andie felt miserable. She hardly slept the whole night.

The next morning was a replay of the night before. Clay was a thousand miles away from her, though he persisted in the fiction that everything was just fine. He rose and showered, shaved and dressed. He ate his breakfast, drank his coffee and then returned to the bedroom to pack his bag.

Then he told her, “I might as well go directly from the office to the airport, don’t you think?”

She smiled patiently at him, though she was becoming angry in her heart. “They’ll be dropping the tickets off here at the house, by express mail, around eleven.”

“You should have had them sent to the office.”

“Well, it’s a little too late to change things now. But I’d be happy to drive them over.”

“Were you planning to come in this afternoon?” Lately, she’d been working from one to five on Fridays. But she wouldn’t today, of course, because she was going with Clay.

She shook her head. “Actually, today I was going to call Linda and see if everything seemed under control. If she didn’t need me, I was going to stay home.”

“Fine, then. I’ll come back and get the tickets.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” He kissed her on the cheek, a chaste little peck that made her want to grab him and shake him and demand to know what he’d done with her husband. Because he wasn’t her husband, not this cold, distant stranger who seemed to be in such a hurry to get away from her. “Goodbye, then. I’ll see you when I come back for the tickets.”

Andie opened her mouth to tell him that the tickets weren’t the only thing he’d be picking up this afternoon; she was going, too. But somehow, all she said was “Goodbye, Clay.”

She reasoned that if she told him now, there would only be a big argument. She would wait until he came back for the tickets to tell him. That would be soon enough for the confrontation.

The minute he was gone, she went in the bedroom to pack her own bag.

 

“Absolutely not.” Clay glared at her. “You are not coming with me.”

“Yes, I am, Clay.” They were standing in the little service porch area that led out to the garage. Andie’s suitcase was at her feet.

“It’s not safe for the baby.”

“I’m nearly a month from my due date. I’ve had a textbook pregnancy. The doctor said it should be perfectly safe.”

Clay paced in the small space. He walked a few steps down the hall toward the main part of the house and then spun on his heel to confront her again. “What about the family?”

“What about them?”

“They’ll be worried if we’re both gone.”

“I’ve called them. I’ve explained everything. I said we’d be back Sunday, which we will.”

“You called them.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You told them we were both going without even discussing it with me?”

“You and I haven’t done a lot of talking in the past twenty-four hours, Clay.”

He ignored that. “And the reservations? The flights and the hotel room?”

“What about them?”

“You made them all for two?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I don’t believe this. You just assumed you were going.”

“No.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what I said. I assumed nothing. I decided I was going.”

He stared at her for a moment. Then he said in a voice as cold as dry ice, “Well, you decided wrong.”

Andie kept her shoulders high, even though her back was aching and the weight of the baby seemed to drag at her. “I’m going, Clay.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He leaned against the wall, rubbed his hand down his face. “Don’t do this, Andie.”

“What?” She bit the inside of her lip. She absolutely was not going to cry. “Don’t do what? Don’t stick with you when you need me?”

He looked at her some more. His eyes were old. “I do not need you.”

That hurt. Like a knife to the heart. She winced but refused to wrap her arms around herself and cry out as she longed to do. Gently she said, “Yes, you do. You need me very badly right now. And it’s my job as your wife to make sure I’m there when you admit you need me.”

“This is ridiculous. I’ll just leave without you.”

“I have my own car. I’ll follow you.”

Clay looked away down the hall and made a scoffing sound. “I don’t believe you’re doing this. I thought you’d grown up. I thought you were past these selfish, grandstanding displays.”

“This is not a display, Clay.”

“Isn’t it? I’m sorry, but from here, it looks damn dramatic, a real Andie McCreary show. Eight months pregnant and you’re so noble. You’ll fly to Los Angeles to be with your husband, because he needs you.”

“It’s not dramatic. It’s not noble. It’s just how it is. I’m going.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He looked so angry for a moment that she thought he was going to march over to her, grab her and shake her until she agreed to do things his way. But he didn’t. His broad shoulders slumped. “Look. I just want to get through this. I just want it over with. Can’t you understand?”

“Yes. I can. I do.”

“Then stay here. Please.”

The little section of counter that she used for folding clothes was at her back. She pressed herself against it, not resting really, but bolstering herself. She dared to ask, “Why, Clay? Why don’t you want me to go?”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “Oh, come on.”

“No. Say it. Tell me.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

“For Madeline’s sake. It’s cruel.”

“Oh. I see. It’s cruel.”

“Don’t be snide, Andie. It is. It’s cruel.”

“I don’t see how. Madeline doesn’t know the truth about the baby. Does she?”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“And you never plan for her to know, do you?”

“No.”

“Then what she’s never going to know won’t hurt her. As far as she knows, I’m just your wife from Meadow Valley who’s going to have a baby soon. Your baby.”

There was a silence. Andie watched her husband’s face. He looked so tired. The lines around his eyes seemed to have been etched deeper overnight.

He pointed out, “She’s a bright woman, you know. She’s going to see that you must have been pregnant before we got married.”

“So? I got pregnant. And you did the right thing. Happens all the time. That’s what the family thinks. Why shouldn’t Madeline think the same thing?”

Clay rubbed his eyes so hard that Andie worried he would hurt them. “I don’t like it.” His voice was bleak. He was still slumped against the wall. He looked so awful, so drained.

Andie’s determination slipped a little. Maybe she was in the wrong here. Maybe just giving him what he said he wanted—letting him get through this alone—would be the best thing, after all. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in deciding to go with him. She’d do better to give up and agree to stay home.

But her heart rebelled at the thought. This was the first real crisis of their married life. And Clay was a solitary type of man. The coming baby and their newlywed happiness had brought him close to her for a time. But if she let him weather this storm alone, she knew that a precedent would be set. He would never learn that he could turn to her in the difficult times.

No, she had to be there. If, while he was in Southern California, the moment came when Clay was willing to reach out for her, she couldn’t afford to be five hundred miles away.

“I’m going, Clay.”

“It’s a mistake.”

“No, it’s not.”

“There’s no reasoning with you, is there, once you’ve made up your mind?”

“Not about this there isn’t.”

“You just do what you want to do, no matter who it hurts.”

More knives, she thought. Words like knives. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Clay let out a long, infinitely weary breath of air. “All right, Andie. We’ll be late for our flight. Let’s go.”