How many times had he faced that one unanswerable question? Hundreds? Thousands? He finished the gesture, slipping his arms around her. She fought. Without hesitation. Pounded her fists at his arms where they crossed in front of her belly. He heard the sobs, felt them shake her. She redoubled her force then, unleashing one last cry of anguish before she stopped as abruptly as she’d started. Carly turned in his arms, rested her face against his shoulder, and wept. He held her close. Rested his own cheek upon her hair. What the hell was he doing? He didn’t rescue women, and he especially avoided weeping women. But a rocking motion came from somewhere inside, like the motion of the living trees in a breeze. How long they stood, how long she cried, he didn’t know. Had no measure. She soaked his shoulder with her tears long before she quieted.
