"I'm perfectly happy to cook. It's all easy stuff that could be ready in twenty minutes—a couple of steaks, fresh asparagus, corn on the cob."
"Keep them for another day. Tonight we're going to celebrate, not do dishes."
"What are we celebrating?"
"I guess we're celebrating a great August day."
"I can support that. But you know, I always feel a little sad when it's August. It's sunny and warm and the leaves are all as thick and green as they can get, and everything has grown all summer. It's so perfect, but that means it's going to end."
"Then it's even more crucial. We've got to get this in before the end. Pretty soon fall will descend on us—fall on us, in fact. Besides, maybe I'm just learning to appreciate you because I missed you so much while you were away this summer, and I want to show it."
"That gives me something to celebrate," she said. "But I hadn't been suffering from a lack of appreciation before. When is the reservation you made? I assume you've given me no time to get ready."
"Seven-thirty. You have an hour."
She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. "Then come on. Let's get started. We can share a shower and save water."
He followed her to the staircase. "I love saving water."
"I'll bet." And as she climbed the stairs, she felt the same sensation she had felt earlier—that she could see herself through his eyes, and what he was seeing made him feel not just a sense of warmth and contentment, but actual joy.
AT FOUR IN THE MORNING Jane was asleep, but she was becoming more and more aware that she was cold. She snuggled closer to Carey's side, trying to get farther under the cover and be in the zone of heat his body radiated.
"Janie, you can't lie around like this."
"Harry?" She sat up. As always in her dreams, Harry wore his moss green sport coat. When he had picked it out, he'd undoubtedly had no idea that he would wear it forever.
He said, "You're cold, aren't you?"
"Yes." She rubbed her bare arms.
"The summer is over. Days are shorter already. Things are in motion."
"What things?"
He shrugged to make the coat sit properly on his narrow, rounded shoulders. "You know."
"She's safe, isn't she?"
His chest rose and fell in the characteristic sigh she remembered from when he was alive.
"What is it?"
"You're suddenly interested again? You take a little vacation and pretend the whole universe has stopped to wait. You took half the summer off, mostly to lie around in bed with your husband."
"That's not fair. I checked on her twice through her doctor. Communicating with a runner makes her weak and homesick, and sometimes it helps her enemies find her."
"Oh. Then I take it back."
"And I've tried to find out more about the people who were after her. I haven't gotten past the false names yet, but I will." She stopped. "Harry, what did you come to tell me?"
"Remind you."
"What don't I know?"
"The cold told you. It's already time. It's begun."
Jane awoke, and she was lying in the bed, the covers thrown off. The air had changed during the night. In the few hours while she was asleep, the smell and taste of it had changed. The hot, humid summer air had been replaced by a dry, still cold. Jane got up and went to the window, pushed aside the gauzy white curtains, and quietly slid down the sash to close it. She went back into the bed, lay close to Carey, but didn't close her eyes. Today would be the day.
She knew why she was having Harry dreams. Christine had seldom been out of her mind since the beginning of the summer, but Jane had resisted the strong temptation to keep calling her. Jane had waited, making plans. She still had over two weeks before Christine's due date, and first babies were usually late, but she wanted to be there in plenty of time. Jane got up and dressed in the dark.
She drove to Deganawida, went into the house where she'd grown up, and then up the stairs into the bedroom. She knew what she needed to bring, and packing didn't take long. There would be one suitcase that contained the minimum wardrobe and could be thrown away. She was going to carry a different purse this time. This one had two main compartments and between them a space for a handgun.
As always Jane's suitcase contained a lot of black—black jeans, black pullovers, black running shoes, black flats, a black dress. She had also gradually gathered a large collection of hundred-dollar bills. Once she had Christine set up in Austin, she would leave the excess with her to delay the day when Christine had to do anything that would make her visible—pay by credit card, get a job, put the baby in day care.
Jane had nagging feelings of uncertainty about this trip. Things had not seemed right from the beginning, but she had not been able to identify what she was missing. The cities and apartments Jane had selected were right for Christine. The name Linda Welles, the look, the backstory were all right for her. What hadn't Jane seen? What had she forgotten to do?
Jane went down to move the ladder in the basement, disconnected the old disused heating duct, and looked in her hiding place. She picked up the identification packet that Stewart Shattuck had sent her for Christine. He had done a thorough job of collecting the identification she would need. That was one of the things that had moved one generation further while she had been out of the profession. Now the business consisted of creating antecedent documents and using them to apply for real ones of another sort, then using the first real ones to apply for other real ones. For an artist like Stewart, the work was making birth certificates, marriage licenses, fake driver's licenses that a runner would use as identification in applying for a real license in a different state or a foreign country.
She looked over the documents in the kit. They were all genuine—driver's license, passport, birth certificate, Social Security card, all in the name Mary Watson. Jane smiled when her eyes passed across the name. Stewart always had favored names near the end of the alphabet, on the theory that some searchers gave up or got careless by the time they reached the ends of lists. He had gotten her Visa, MasterCard, and American Express cards, then thrown in a health-club membership, a library card, an auto-club membership. Jane put them all back in the wallet and took it with her.
She reached far back in the duct and pulled out a canvas bag. Inside were two nine millimeter Beretta M92 handguns, a box of ammunition, and two spare magazines. One she would carry in the purse and one in the suitcase. She carefully closed the heating duct, moved the ladder away from it, and went back upstairs.
Jane drove back to Amherst to the McKinnon house before Carey woke. She was making breakfast when she heard the sound of Carey's feet coming down the stairs. "I'm in here," she called.
Carey walked into the room, saw that Jane was dressed in the black clothes she favored for traveling, saw the suitcase near the back door, and stopped. "Oh."
She looked at him apologetically. "I'm afraid it's today."
"How long?"
"I don't know. I'm going for the birth of the baby, which could happen as soon as next week. But first babies tend to be on the late side."
"I've heard," he said. "I'm a doctor."
"I thought you just said that to get dates."
She could see he wasn't amused. "And after the baby?"
"After the birth, I'll wait at least a couple of weeks letting the two of them get stronger so we can travel. I'll move them to their new home, spend a few more weeks helping her get settled, and making sure they're safe."
"That sounds like five to six weeks," he said.
"It will be if everything goes really well," she said. "Otherwise it could be longer—maybe much longer. I'm sorry. She's a tough person but she's very young, and she's alone."
"Will you call and tell me how it's going?"