“It was probably a raccoon.”
He snarls, unconvinced.
I brush my hands on my pants and look up. A man stands in the distance, staring at me. He’s about sixty years old, with an average build and a trim beard. I don’t recognize him. When he notices my attention, he moves forward, and his mouth opens as if to speak.
A shiver runs through me. Denver charges toward him, barking as if he’s going to tear him apart.
The man jumps, startled, then turns and darts down the street. He disappears after he makes a sharp turn through the yard of the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. Denver closes in on him rapidly until I can’t see either of them.
Anxiously, I wait for Denver to return, moving backward and closer to the door as each minute passes.
I tremble as I think of the man’s stare. He was watching me.
A few minutes later, Denver returns and runs back to me, nudging me on the leg. Bending down, I reach my hands out to him. “Thank you for protecting me.” He nuzzles his face into my hands.
Inside, I bolt the front door and double-check the back. Should I call the police? What do I tell them? More importantly, what can they do? Easing her bedroom door open, I check on Natalie. She’s safe, curled around her stuffie. Her chest rises and falls in a slow, almost imperceptible rhythm. I linger, counting her breaths until my own steadies.
This is the second time this week I’ve felt as if I were being watched. Already filled with dread over what’s happening to the ocean, I can’t help but wonder if the dangers Nathan was so worried about have caught up with me.
CHAPTER 6
The Widow
As I study the walls, an uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation crawls over my skin.
Natalie and I start the long walk down the hospital corridors. We’re here to visit Maddie, Scott, and Christopher. As we make our way to their room, I remember my own stay here years ago.
The first of several visits.
I force myself forward.
Natalie was born on a rare chilly night in December. I remember wearing a brown sweater and working on her nursery late into the night. The primary color of her room was rose pink, and I had her changing station, crib, and rocker perfectly arranged. Ready to go. On her dresser,Goodnight Moonand a small stuffed dog, Brownie, waited for her. Brownie was the only belonging I still had from my childhood. Growing up, I’d shared all my secrets with him, as I imagined Natalie would too someday.
Mark had been on duty, so when my water broke, I drove to Naples Comprehensive Health and checked myself in without bothering him. Mark’s parents lived in New Mexico, and he was an only child, so neither of us had any family nearby.
Would anything have been different if we had?
I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but our charade was making me feel uneasy. Our mutual work friends at City Hall were all thrilled for the happy young couple, who were about to become parents for the first time. What they didn’t know was that we were platonic—no sex, no kissing, just friends. They couldn’t know that the baby we were awaiting belonged to one of Mark’s oldest friends.
When it became clear Nathan was gone, Mark was the only one there for me. He knew that Nathan and I were married. And as Nathan’s friend, I thought he was grieving too. He drove me to my doctor appointments, helped me pay my bills, and gave me a place to live.
I did worry he might misread my need as something else—we’d dated long ago, before Nathan. But I thought it was a mutually awkward experience for both of us. Was it really the same for him as it was for me? He assured me he just wanted friendship, offered me a ring, and promised to take care of Natalie and me until I was ready to move on. After that, he said, he’d let me go. He made it sound simple and practical. All he wanted to do was help.
I said yes, and at first, I felt safe. It was as if Nathan had left his best friend behind to watch over us since he couldn’t. The desperate part of me had taken Mark’s offer to take care of us without thinking about the consequences. He was our friend. He was safe. I had no family and no one else, and I made little money of my own.
But as the months passed, Mark grew a little too accustomed to his role as my pretend husband. He stopped knocking. His hand brushed mine as we crossed paths, and he would linger a little too long, a little too close when we were both in the house. No matter where I was when he was around, I felt his gaze.I’d known then that I would need to find a way out as soon as possible, for both our sakes.
After I reached the hospital, I was in full-blown labor. The whole time, I’d imagined Nathan by my side and how he would have wiped my brow and held my hand during the delivery. The doctor put our little girl on my chest, and she lifted her tiny head.
It was then that I knew I’d never love anyone more.
I nursed and cradled her all night. Crying. Laughing. And Nathan was with me the whole time. Talking to me, playing with his daughter. Everything I did that night, we did together. Even if he wasn’t really there.
It was too soon to tell which one of us she looked like, but I imagined her with golden-brown hair and eyes. I let her go only when the nurse came by to check on her and insisted that I get some rest.
The next morning, Mark walked into the room. I smiled and excitedly told him about Natalie. A chill ran up my spine when he looked at me and glared. He didn’t respond. Instead, he walked to the bassinet. I sat up and started to get out of bed. Afraid he would… what? hurt her? But he just looked down at her and stared. She lifted her little arms and cooed at him.
“She looks like you.”
