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Early afternoon of the next day, with the heat and humidity churning the air and tracking sweat down her body, Willow’s contractions began. Derrick hadn’t come home the night before—a first, though he often came home late—and his steel-toed shoes still sat wide-mouthed in front of her easel. Protective shoes were mandatory on the job site, which meant he was not at work. There was no use calling there, and if she did, and Derrick had called in sick, she’d be ratting on him.
She paced and cleaned, pouring out the curdled milk in the refrigerator, wiping down the shelves and making the bed. She needed to keep busy, and she kept reminding herself that Derrick’s absence might not be for the worst reason she could imagine, Mary. A whole host of things might have happened.
Not wanting to t
