His voice comes through the dark, hoarse and scratchy. “I love you, Nora.” The words, spoken now, pierce me like an arrow. That he’s done it again, denying me a child, tells me that these words mean nothing. Perhaps he never wanted the baby that we lost, but I had wanted that baby desperately. Now there will never be another chance. “Nora, I love you,” he says again, reaching down for me. “Do you hear me?” I shrug away from his touch, tucking my knees tighter against my chest. “I heard you.” He catches my chin in his palm and angles my face up. “I have loved you from the first moment.” I stare at him for a long time. Then I ask, “Does it change anything?” He blanches, turning to stare into the blackness of night. “No. I don’t suppose it does.” “Then take me home. Just take me home.” “Mr.
