Barb gathers her purse, the sweater she always carries but never wears.
“Don’t leave,” I say, motioning her to stay. I haven’t found a file for Regina yet. It’s here, though, and it will confirm what I already know is true. When I find it, I don’t want to be alone. “It’ll just take a second.”
Barb hesitates. She doesn’t get what’s going on. I haven’t given her enough information to follow. But she will. When I find Regina’s paperwork and the dates of her retrieval align with mine, she’ll understand. Then she can help me decide what to do.
As I approach Judy, she’s glowering, lips snarled, her anger aimed at Barb.
“Hey, Judy. Everything okay?” She’s angling around me, trying to see inside. I use my belly to block her entry.
A sharp sting daggers across my side, mellowing just as quickly. A Braxton Hicks contraction, even if it hurts more than the others did. My body doesn’t know it’s destined for a C-section. Instead, it’s training for a labor it will never experience.
“She a friend of yours?” A little spittle drips from Judy’s mouth as she glares at Barb.
Barb sways foot to foot, nervous and uncomfortable. Something sinks inside me, even before Judy says, “Be careful. I’ve seen her lurking.”
“What do you mean?” My attention stays glued to Barb, who won’t look at us.
“She’s been following Gabe. Creeping behind him when he goes to surf. Waiting for him to leave for work.”
Another stabbing cramp rips through my hip toward my groin, stealing my breath. Since Regina died, I’ve had this feeling that someone’s been spying on me. Could it really be Barb? Barb glances in our direction, purse clutched to her side, pure dread across her face. When we lock eyes, her face grows tortured. I want to run to her, to disavow everything Judy’s insinuating, but that expression on Barb’s face—it’s guilt. I’ve fallen for an act. Barb, with her slight limp, her cool demeanor, her grief. She was never my friend. She’s used her motherhood against me.
Judy steps toward me. “You want me to come in?”
Although she’s never been inside our house, she thinks nothing of trying to barge in now. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t move off the doorframe, not until my midsection releases the contraction.
“Thanks, Judy. I’m fine.”
Judy doesn’t seem convinced as I shut the door between us. I shoot her a thumbs-up, pretending that everything’s fine. Everything isn’t fine. At Rosebud, Barb asked,Why are we here?I was stuck on thewe. I should have been stuck on thehere. Barb knew where we were. She knew it was Gabe’s office. She’s been following him. I thought we were in this together. She’s had an ulterior motive this whole time, a side investigation into my husband. And into me.
My mind starts racing as I rewrite every interaction I’ve had with Barb, dating back to her collapsing on the walkway outside my house, waiting for me at the police station. She knew who I was. Another stabbing pierces my side. It’s intense, longer than before. Could she have known who my son was, too, her relationship to him?
I stay fixed on Judy until she sighs performatively and retreats. I wait to make sure she’s gone, using the time when my back’s to Barb to decide what I can possibly say to this woman I’ve let into my life, this woman I’ve let get close to my son.
“Everything okay?” Barb asks.
“You tell me.” I hold my breath as the contraction abates, trying not to reveal how much it hurts. “Since you’ve been watching us, you must know how everything’s going.”
Barb shrugs. “He knew my daughter.”
Her calmness confirms my suspicions, all the ways she’s betrayed me and isn’t sorry for it. Her poise enrages me, makes me start pacing like I’m in labor. Maybe these contractions aren’t Braxton Hicks. Maybe they are phantom pains, my body trying to labor the lies.
“Stay away from Jasper.” The volume of my voice catches us both off guard. Barb seems wounded and confused, but it’s all an act. “You can’t take my son away from me.”
Barb holds out both hands, motioning for me to take a breath before cautiously stepping toward me. Her maternal energy is magnetic, forceful. Without realizing it, I’ve come to depend on Barb. I’ve imagined her visiting my baby, holding her in a way my own mother can’t.
“Jasper’s mine. Mine.” I hit my chest harder than I mean to. It leaves a red impression across my skin.
“Tessa, relax.”
“Don’t—”
Barb pauses, considering her words, words we both hear before she says them. Words she can never take back. “He killed my daughter.”
I grunt involuntarily, partly on account of what Barb has said. Mostly to hide the sharp, all-encompassing pain at my side. I need tosit down. That feels too close to surrendering, so I rub my stomach, trying to make the pang subside. It’s too intense for Braxton Hicks, but at my last appointment, I wasn’t dilated. I can’t be in labor. A cramp across my hip screams otherwise.
Barb confuses my weakness for agreement. She braves a step toward me.
“You aren’t safe with him.”
