With the Psychology building in sight, Caroline decided she’d have to figure out what the gourmet delicacy was later. She wasn’t familiar with gourmet cooking, had never cooked anything gourmet in her life and she didn’t want that small fact to interrupt her.

  Back at the social… John glances over at her and smiles just as Phyllis walks up behind her and gives her a quick squeeze with one arm around her shoulders.

  Adjusting the hand-sewn bag holding her books, weighing down her shoulder, Caroline figured life was good.

  She just needed to be patient. She sometimes said hello to people when she walked across campus. The rest would come.

  Approaching the steps of the old building that housed the Psychology lecture hall, Caroline grinned as she saw someone she recognized standing by a tree not far from the building. It was a young woman, in her mid-to-late twenties. As Caroline climbed the stairs, she watched the woman, first to try and place her, and secondly to see why she was just standing there.

  She was sitting in the lecture hall, waiting for class to begin, when the first answer came to her. It was the woman she’d seen in the picture taken at court, the first day of Ellen’s trial. She’d stood behind John. Someone’s sister, Caroline thought. The one person she couldn’t name.

  Maybe tonight after she finished her reading she could look up some of the old articles. And if all else failed, she could always ask John. He called every night now, at nine o’clock sharp, whether he was in town or not.

  The conversations usually lasted only a minute or two—generic renditions of the same theme. Yes, she was fine. Nothing new happening.

  But occasionally, like that night he’d called from Chicago, there was more.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “CAROLINE, CAN YOU STAY for a second?”

  Caroline froze, all the good things in her day evaporating to leave her feeling limp and insecure as she heard Phyllis Langford’s voice address her just before the professor removed her mic after class.

  Unable to call loudly enough to be heard from her middle row, Caroline nodded jerkily. She turned to head slowly down the wide steps toward the podium in the front of the room. She was so hot she might pass out. Or be sick.

  Surely everyone was looking at her, wondering what she’d done wrong. Truth be told, she was wondering the same thing. In her entire life, she’d never been asked to stay after class before. The closest she’d come was the day Randy’d been caught chewing gum in fourth grade and had to stay late to write I will not chew gum in class one hundred times on the board. She’d only been in second grade then, but she’d waited to walk home with him.

  Other students milled around, asking questions about a missed quiz, an assignment due date, outside reading over the upcoming spring break, which was to begin the following Monday.

  The day of her ultrasound appointment.

  She should call her mother. It had been almost a week.

  Wishing she dared draw attention to herself with a reassuring hand on Sara/Jacob, Caroline thought of her baby, wanting him or her to have a mother who could speak confidently with her doctorate-degree twin sister and handle herself with aplomb. Or at least not do something horrible like throw up.

  Trying to ignore the roaring in her ears by concentrating on bits and pieces of the conversations taking place around her, Caroline worried about the scarred tips of her boots. Maybe she should just go ahead and splurge on a pair of thongs from Wal-Mart. Everyone seemed to be wearing them. And she’d seen them for less than five dollars.

  She’d worn her blue-and-red flowered shirt today. It’d always been one of her favorites. She hoped that after the next few minutes, it still would be.

  “I’m sorry that took so long.”

  With a hand wrapped around her ponytail, worrying it, Caroline dropped the hair when she realized that her professor—her sister—was speaking to her.

  “Uh, n-no problem,” she said, hating the stammer in her voice. Hating a lot about herself at that moment, including the fact that she was being so critical.

  Phyllis picked up the satchel she’d loaded while talking to her other students and slung it over one shoulder. “Walk with me?”

  “Sure.” Praying that she wouldn’t stumble or have her knees give out on her, Caroline followed Phyllis up the steps, hating the loud thunk her boots made against the stairs.

  “Where are you from, Caroline?” Phyllis asked, glancing sideways at her as they moved together down the hall.

  “Kentucky.”

  Phyllis nodded, and Caroline swallowed. She was so close. And they had the same eyes. Did Phyllis notice? Not that she’d be looking.

  Caroline was looking.

  “What brings you to Montford?”

  Phyllis reached out with her right hand, pushing open the door. And Caroline stumbled, the toe of her boot catching on the floor.

  Phyllis was wearing the ring. It wasn’t identical to the one around Caroline’s neck—the stone was different. But it was very similar.

  “Uh, scholarship,” she said, her face flaming.

  “I’m not surprised.” Phyllis smiled and Caroline’s stomach melted.

  “You’re not?” Her throat was so dry she was afraid she might choke.

  “My tests are difficult. I’ve hardly ever given perfect test scores before.”

  A little smile started to flower inside Caroline. She wouldn’t allow it to emerge, but she enjoyed the moment just the same.

  She had no idea where they were walking, hoped it wasn’t far, and yet hoped they could keep walking together forever.

  There were hundreds of students around them. An in-line skater passed. Caroline was oblivious to them all.

  “What’s your major?”

  “English.”

  Phyllis turned toward the walk that led to the Performing Arts center—where her husband, Matt, worked as the director.

  “Did you manage to find an apartment nearby?”

  “A room, yes.” How strange to be having such an ordinary conversation with the only other person in the world who shared her genes.

  “I don’t see a wedding ring. Does that mean you aren’t married?”

  She felt like a little kid, warming to her teacher’s attention. And wondered if Phyllis was this attentive to all her students. Judging by the size of the class, she doubted it.

  Of course, Phyllis kept office hours. A lot of the kids visited with her then. Caroline had heard various mentions of it.

  “I’m a widow.”

  “Oh.” Phyllis glanced over, her familiar green eyes filled with a sympathy Caroline had seen in her own eyes many times over the years. “You’re so young. I’m sorry.”

  She couldn’t react to that. Couldn’t tread emotional ground with this woman. Not and survive with her life intact.

  “You don’t say much in class,” Phyllis said.

  “It’s been a while since I was in school.”

  “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a problem,” she said. “You can hear me okay? No one’s giving you a hard time?”

  Caroline fell in love with her sister all over again. Whoever heard of a teacher caring so diligently about her students? “Everything’s fine.”

  Phyllis nodded, her shorter auburn hair bouncing on the shoulders of her light gray suit. “Well, if you’re sure…”

  Because she looked as though she had more to say, Caroline waited. And wondered if Phyllis noticed that their hair color was identical.

  The same hair and eyes. Same height. Different mouth and chin.

  They were turning thirty-five in a couple of months.

  “Okay, then.” Phyllis’s demeanor changed, became more businesslike. “That being the case, I’m warning you that I’m going to be calling on you.”

  Caroline nodded, not at all put out. If Phyllis wanted something from her, that was just fine.

  “You can’t get a perfect mark in this course without class participation.”

  “Okay.”

  They’d reached the door of the Performing Arts Center. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

  When she’d be calling on Caroline in class. Feeling as though she and her sister had formed some kind of bond, Caroline nodded. Then she turned and walked calmly, slowly, out to her truck.

  Where she promptly unlocked the door, fell inside and started to sob.

  FULL OF AN ENERGY he could hardly comprehend, John walked Caroline to her truck after their appointment at the clinic the following Monday.

  “A girl,” he said, for at least the fourth time.

  “Sara.”

  “Who?”

  “Sara. I want to name her Sara.” Caroline paused, glancing up at him. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure.” He hadn’t thought much about names. “I like Sara.” He also liked the fact that Caroline had spoken up about her preference.

  He was going to have to call his mother. And his sister. Maybe even his dad. The old man, if he could track him down, might want to know that he was going to have another granddaughter.

  He’d have to tell his friends.

  “The baby’s grown a lot since last month.” He’d been hard put to hide his shock when the technician had lifted Caroline’s smock, exposing the smooth expanse of her belly. She’d looked pregnant.

  “They have a tendency to do that.”

  John glanced down at her. Grinned. Then instantly sobered. “I couldn’t tell under those shirts.”

  Her reply was a self-conscious shrug and John hated that he’d made her uncomfortable. If he didn’t have so much at stake—though he wasn’t sure what or why—he’d offer to preserve her privacy and opt out of all further doctor’s visits.

  Or if he didn’t feel so compelled to be there. She might need him.

  Even if she did, she’d never ask.

  “Are you going to call Jesse and tell him?”

  “Yeah.”

  He passed his car, walking toward the back of the lot where her old truck was parked. Did the woman have an aversion to people parking near her?

  “You don’t sound too enthusiastic about that.”

  “He’s been avoiding me.”

  “Still?”

  “I’ve talked to him once in the past month.”

  “Do you want me to call him?” John had no idea why he’d said that. Of course she didn’t want the father of her illegitimate child calling her son.

  “No, thank you.” She had the grace not to tell him how stupid the suggestion had been.

  “I’m sorry.”

  They’d reached her truck. She pulled out her keys, unlocked the door. “It’s okay,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been through this before.”

  “Not really.” She climbed in, looking up at him. “I just know my son.”

  For a second there, John was jealous of a seventeen-year-old kid. And of his mother. And the relationship they shared.

  And then it dawned on him that his chance was coming. She put the ultrasound video they’d been given on the seat beside her.

  Something else occurred to him.

  “You don’t have a television.”

  “I know.”

  He should close her door, walk away. Head over to Will’s or Matt’s. The Valley Diner. Anywhere that was far from Caroline Prater.

  “You didn’t get to see much of the show earlier.” She’d been lying flat on her back, having to stay still and turn her head at the same time.

  “I saw everything I needed to see. Ten fingers and toes. A healthy heartbeat.”

  “But you didn’t see her put her hand in her mouth.”

  Her smile was a little nostalgic. “Maybe I’ll ask if Mrs. Howard has a VCR.”

  “Have you told her about the baby?” Last he knew, she hadn’t told anyone. Except Ellen Hanaran.

  Caroline shook her head. And he realized she had no real intention of enlisting her landlord’s help in video-viewing.

  “Listen.” He tapped a hand on the top of her truck. “Why don’t you follow me home? We can throw on some spaghetti and you can watch the video as many times as you like.”

  He expected an immediate no.

  “I’ve got a large screen TV.” He pushed his advantage, not kidding himself for a second about the reason for her interest. It had nothing to do with him. And everything to do with that little life growing inside her.

  “I remember,” she said, and he blinked. He’d forgotten that she’d been in his living room. It was that first day she’d come to town.

  The day he’d found out he was going to be a father.

  And today, he’d seen his daughter for the first time.

  “I’d like to make a copy of the tape,” he told her.

  “Okay.”

  “Really?” That had been much easier than he’d expected.

  She nodded. “But only if you let me cook. I’ve been dying to get in front of that stove.”

  Feeling inordinately happy for the moment, John stood back, ready to close her door. “Then it’s all yours.”

  “YOU CHANGED THINGS.”

  They were standing just inside his front door several minutes later, and John watched as Caroline glanced around the large family/living room combination. “What’s missing?”

  Her observation shouldn’t have surprised him. The woman missed nothing.

  “I packed away most of the things that were there simply as reminders of Meredith.”

  The main event of a weekend spent drinking too much and then regretting it. But he’d completed a difficult job.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  Not quite an “about the baby only” question—not that they hadn’t veered before.

  “Better.”

  She nodded. “I felt better after packing up some boxes….” Her voice trailed off and a faraway look came into her eyes. He wondered if she still thought about her husband first thing in the morning.

  He didn’t think about Meredith when he woke up anymore. Wasn’t sure when he’d stopped. Or if he was losing the capacity to love so completely. He’d been praying for numbness for a long time.

  “You want me to make dinner first?” Caroline moved slowly toward the kitchen.

  “Sure.”

  As proficient as though she’d frequently been in his kitchen, Caroline quickly found everything she needed and set to work.

  And as he chopped vegetables for her, John wondered why he didn’t feel numb. Why he felt alive.

  DINNER WAS DELICIOUS. Nothing fancy, just full of flavor. Or maybe it was having someone to share it with—even if that someone was completely off-limits.

  He offered to take care of the dishes later, but Caroline insisted on cleaning up the kitchen before following him into the other room. While he turned on his entertainment system and loaded the VCR, she settled into the middle of his brown leather couch. When he turned, she was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, anticipation lighting her expression.

  He deliberately chose the chair next to the couch. It was angled for a good view, but far enough away to keep his distance.

  A distance that was suddenly becoming important.

  And more necessary, too, although he wasn’t sure how he knew that.

  He pushed the button on the remote, and forgot everything but the grayish movements on the screen in front of them.

  “Oh, look!” Caroline cried a couple of minutes later. “She did put her hand in her mouth! I can see it!”

  The animation in her face was new to him. And oddly beautiful. Something that stuck with him as they watched the video three more times, noticing new things each time. When they finally turned off the television, John had begun to think their daughter was the most astonishing human being ever to be conceived.

  Caroline stood.

  He wasn’t ready for her to go. The mood was too soft, too amiable, for an instant return to the emptiness that usually accompanied his evenings at home.

  “Would you mind staying just a little bit longer?” Hands folded and resting on the chair between his spread knees, John glanced up at her. “I think we should talk about what we’re going to tell people.”

  He wasn’t ready. But it had to be done. And the mood was going to dissipate anyway.

  She sat down again. Squeezed her hands together. And then reached for the chain he’d occasionally noticed around her neck. She wore it beneath her collar, whatever was hanging from it beneath her shirt.

  He’d wondered more than once if it was Randy’s wedding ring that lay there between her breasts.

  He knew she hadn’t had it on that night in Kentucky. His lips had been all over her neck, her chest. And below.

  She’d tasted like the country. Fresh and flowery. And she’d opened to him as eagerly, as innocently, as any woman he’d ever known.

  “What did you want to say?”

  Her head wasn’t lowered, but neither was she looking at him. With her attention seemingly locked on the now-dark television set, she sat like a criminal waiting for sentencing. Alert. Present. And dreading the outcome.

  “I don’t know,” he told her honestly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, turning to look at her. “I was hoping we could come up with this one together.”

  He needed some direction.

  She shrugged, her shoulders slim in the blue-checked blouse she was wearing. He wanted to get up, pull the band out of her ponytail, letting that glorious hair fall free around her shoulders as it’d been on the night that started all of this.

  Why was he thinking about that night so much?

  Because he was trying to figure out a way to explain what had happened? That had to be it. Please, God.

  “I always try to tell the truth,” she finally said, giving him an apologetic smile. “Saves a lot of time and creative energy.”

  He’d agree with that. “What version?”

  She glanced away, looked back and then away again. But not before John had caught an unusual glimpse of emotion in her normally pleasant but unrevealing expression.