She rocked her body, trying to soothe him, while she checked on Billie. Her daughter’s head was resting to the side with her mouth open, sleeping soundlessly. She returned to the handle of the stroller and pushed it across the street. Once they were on the sidewalk, she was able to see the hospital, the large brick building that was multiple stories high.
It was the same place she had rushed herself to when she felt sick, the place where her husband had fixed her, where he would heal their son as soon as she got him there.
She’d been on this path countless times. She knew the potholes, the places in the sidewalk where the pavement cracked and grass grew in between, so she weaved the stroller, avoiding the bumps and dips.
As she got closer to the end of the block, she noticed a car on the cross street, coming over the top of the hill. Since the car had a red light and the signal on the crosswalk was telling her to go, she began to walk across. With each step, she kept her hand tightly squeezed around the stroller, holding Andrew with her other arm, where he was fussing under the scarf.
“It’s all right, baby,” she sang. “Shh. You’re okay.”
Honey’s gaze shifted between the sidewalk and the car that was now speeding down the hill. She was sure it was going to stop. There was no way the driver would run a red light, especially not with a woman and her stroller moving through the intersection.
Still, Honey found herself hurrying, wondering why the width of this street was double the last one. Her feet could only move so fast with both children, but she was going at a speedy pace when she reached the middle of the road.
That was the moment she realized the car wasn’t going to stop.
She lifted her hand in the air, waving it to get the driver’s attention. When a few seconds passed and that didn’t work, she froze and screamed, “Oh my God!”
Fear was trying to paralyze her.
She wouldn’t let it.
Especially because the hill was making the car go faster, and Honey was running out of time.
She squeezed Andrew and dragged the stroller back several paces, trying to move in the opposite direction of the car. She was able to get them some clearance, but then the driver swerved, and the headlights were aiming right for them once again.
“No!”
She didn’t have time to back up more.
All she could do was run forward and hope she avoided the car.
“Baby, hold on!” she yelled, squeezing the plastic handle. Her arm yanked back like she was clutching the string on a bow, and then she pushed the stroller with all of her might.
Once it was out of her hand, she wrapped her body over Andrew, trying to keep him as protected as she could, and she began to run. Her toes ground into the pavement as she took her first leap, her next foot landing, and she repeated the same action.
She was only a few steps in when she cried, “Stop,” at the top of her lungs, her ears filling with the loudest sound she’d ever heard.
Louder than the hoot of the train that she had ridden on as a child, louder than the gunshot the one time she’d gone deer hunting. Louder than the hardest crack of thunder.
While she watched Billie’s stroller head safely to the other side of the road, she tucked her body even tighter around her son, giving him the most protection, and she carried that baby as far as she could.
SIXTY-EIGHT
JARED
WHEN I HAD BEEN a sophomore in high school, I’d broken my wrist. Now, every time the seasons changed, I could feel it in that joint. I could tell when it was going to rain, when the weather was going to turn extremely cold. My wrist was never wrong.
When Billie got into my SUV on May 20 and began driving south on I-95, I knew a storm was coming. There was no other reason she would be leaving Maine today other than to confront me. Maybe it was a gut feeling. Maybe, deep down, I had known this was the weekend she would figure it all out. But I knew everything was about to change.
The call came in when she was just north of Boston. She kept it short, telling me she had to head back here, and she asked where I’d be when she returned. She knew I was back from California already, so I told her to meet me at my condo.
I didn’t leave. I didn’t eat.
I paced, watching the dot on my GPS app move closer to Manhattan until she was pulling into the garage of my building.