I glanced back and watched the Stanley disappear, the lights shining from the rooms growing dimmer, then disappearing, then the orange glow fading until even that was out of sight. It was only then that I exhaled, pressed my hand to my stomach, and promised my son we would get him to safety.
It was also when I remembered Marc didn’t know it was a boy. Should I tell him?
I thought it through, but after only a few seconds, decidedagainst it. I hadn’t told him ten weeks ago because I knew it would be too hard for him to live with the knowledge if things went the way the Department of Fertility wanted them to. That hadn’t changed. Not yet. I would wait until we were in Canada. Until we were safe.
We drove in silence for a bit, our progress slow since the lights were still off. Once Marc thought we were far enough away from the hotel, though, he turned the headlights on. They cut through the darkness, illuminating the roads, and allowing him to speed up, but not too much. While the streets had cleared, they were still icy.
“How long did you say it would take?” I asked more to break the silence than anything.
“A little less than twelve hours.”
Half a day and we might be safe.
We traveled in tense silence, with Marc clutching the steering wheel like his life depended on it while he glanced in the rearview mirror every few seconds. I wasn’t much better. Convinced someone was after us, I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder. The road behind us was clear and dark, though, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t stay that way. No one was going to check on me until breakfast and it was doubtful anyone would notice Marc was missing until he didn’t show up for his shift. Still, I couldn’t relax. Couldn’t believe that it had been this easy to get away.
It wasn’t until we’d finally made it off the mountain that Marc said, “The atlas is at your feet. I know which way to head for now, but eventually, I’m going to need directions.”
I bent, groaning, and retrieved it from the floor. The pages we needed were marked, and when I flipped on the overhead light and opened the atlas, I found our route traced in yellow highlighter. I followed it from page to page, state to state, all the way to where Montana met the Canadian border. It seemed like such a short distance on paper, but it was going to be long and stressful, and that there was a very good possibility someone would come after us.
My attention was pulled from the map when Marc took myhand. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I shoved the atlas between my seat and the door for the time being. “I’m in shock, I think. I didn’t really believe we could pull this off.”
“I never gave up,” he said, giving my hand a reassuring pump. “I just had to make sure the timing was right.”
“I – ” Too choked up for words, I had to swallow. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I never believed we wouldn’t be together,” he replied.
He looked away from the road, holding my gaze for a second before refocusing. Once he had, he lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. When he did it, I realized I’d been so shocked to see him and he’d been so rushed to get me out, that we hadn’t kissed before leaving my room. It was an oversight I fixed by scooting over and pressing my lips to his.
“I love you,” I whispered before pulling away.
His voice was choked with emotion when he said, “I love you, too.”
Forty-Five
Islept while Marc drove. I hated doing it, but being thirty weeks pregnant, I was exhausted.
He kept his hand on my leg the entire time, his fingers caressing my thigh, and I dreamt about him. About us. About our baby.
We were in the middle of nowhere when I woke, surrounded by mountains that were outlined by the moon’s rays and fields that seemed to go on forever. The radio was on low, and Marc’s hand was still on my leg, and I was so groggy that not until the baby twisted inside me did I realize it was what had woken me. It was also when it hit me that Marc hadn’t had the opportunity to feel it yet.
Without explaining why, I took his hand and placed it on my stomach, just to the left of my belly button. He glanced my way, his mouth opening as if to say something, but before he could, our son moved again.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, his eyes widening before quickly darting back to the road. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Our baby,” I said, smiling.
I’d almost saidour sonbut held back. I wanted to tell him we were having a boy more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life, but if we got caught, if we were ripped apart again and our baby was taken away, living in ignorance would be easier for Marc.
He kept his hand on my stomach as he drove, glancing my way every now and then as if to reassure himself I was here. The baby was active. He twisted and turned like he was doing somersaults, and every time, Marc shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling.
“I missed you,” he said eventually. “You have no idea how much.”
“I missed you, too,” I replied. “So much it hurt.”
Marc let out a long, weary breath.
