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called it? A long, lonely road . . .

The doctors and the neonatologist would examine Jacob and find nothing wrong. They would pat her on the back. Assure her all was in order. Even suggest that if she would only relax, then her son would too—like it was all her fault.

Of course, none of this would alleviate his misery.

Was this the plight of those who carried the weight of the world? Was Jacob truly one of them? Who could bear such a burden?

She imagined filling prescriptions for depression. She saw herself enrolling in one of the local postpartum support groups, then retracting her enrollment, mortified at the thought of soccer moms in pink, brushed-velvet pants, giving her advice through collagen-swollen lips.

She visualized walking through the mall, seeing accusations in strangers’ eyes, hearing shushes from browsers in the bookstore. Everyone would know that she was a horrible parent. Who was she to argue with the evidence?

A screaming child.

A young mother, tagged on her forehead with a warning sign.

Cal had forgotten to mention how, back in the book of Genesis, Cain was marked for life after he killed his brother. Smack-dab on the noggin. And then there was the whole triple-six thing, in the book of Revelation. Gina had learned all that stuff from her mother, but rejected it along with the abuses.

Maybe Cal was wrong about the symbol. What if it didn’t indicate an escape from wrath or from the jaws of death? What if it was the mark of curses and iniquity?

In the incubator, Jacob was still thrashing.

Gina touched her palms and face to the glass. She’d pressed through the last eight months, telling herself it would end on the day of delivery. She realized now, however, that this was only the beginning. There was much more to go.

She felt tired beyond words. Through the vivid reflection in the window, the fatigue was clear on her face.

Her brow was also clear. She pulled her hair back to be sure.

Yes, the Letter was missing, faded and gone. She pressed closer, but there was no doubt about the clarity of her skin. In delivering this child, had she washed herself of the identifying mark? Did this mean she’d done something wrong? Or was it the natural—supernatural—result of fulfilling her duty?

“I’m cleared for family leave,” Jed said, touching her arm. He was back from his phone call.

“Oh.” She stiffened. “Good.”

“So whatever you need, Gina. I’m on it.”

“I need to lie down,” she said.

“I thought you were keeping an eye on—”

“Jed.”

“You betcha, sweetheart. I know you’re wiped out.”

He passed the clinic, eyeballing it all the way, then parked the rented vehicle two blocks further down.

He eased the pack from under Erota’s feet. She was motionless. He decided her empty shell would be fine where it was, enjoying a little nightynight. Just to keep her safe, though, he locked the doors before heading back up the street.

He was a regular joe—walking to work, or taking an early lunch, or just another wandering tourist, or . . . an expectant father coming to offer support.

Yes. Yes, that was the image to project.

The idea came to him from left field, but now that it was here in his head, it seemed so obvious. Yes, that was good. He must stand straight and pull both shoulders back. He was a man rushed, and sure of himself, and not to be delayed.

CHAPTER

FORTY-THREE

“Gina, darling.”

“Hello?”

“Is he healthy? Where is he?” Nikki said, stepping into the room.

Behind her, Jed shrugged and rolled his eyes, like a man who’d fallen asleep on guard duty and didn’t know whether to sound the alarm.

Did you frisk her for ancient daggers? Gina wanted to ask.

She propped herself up in the hospital bed. With the months of silence between them, she had no idea where to start. A part of her wanted to share this experience with her mother—the circle of life, a chance to bring things back to their proper order. On the other hand, she didn’t trust this woman around her child.

“Nikki. Uh, hi, Mom. How’d you even know?”

“I should’ve guessed the baby would come while I was away.”

All part of my master plan, Gina thought. But kept her lips sealed.

“Naturally, I hurried back as soon as I heard. You might not be answering my calls, but the clinic’s been kind enough to keep me abreast.”

“Who? I didn’t give anyone permission to—”

“I am your mother, for heaven’s sake.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for coming.” Gina combed at her hair with her hand. “Sorry if I seem a little on edge.”

“I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Gina swung her feet over the side of the bed. “Jed took some pictures. We can get you reprints, if you like.”

“Thank you. So how was the birth? Natural, I hope. I do believe that’s best.”

“She had to get some stitches,” Jed said. “But you know Gina—she’d never tell you that herself.”

“Too much information,” Gina snapped.

“She’s your mother. Not like she’s never been through this before.”

Nikki wrapped an arm around Jed’s middle, the first ever display of her approval. “You should listen to this husband of yours. He speaks wisdom.”

Gina flashed a fake grin.

Jed stepped forward and gave his wife a hand as she pushed her feet into slippers and pulled on a robe. “Sorry, I found her wandering down the hall,” he said under his breath. Then: “Here, sweetheart. Let’s go show your mom little Jacob.”

“Please. I’m dying to see my grandson,” Nikki said.

“Jed.” Gina squeezed his hand. “Give us a minute.”

“Now?”

“If you can just wait outside. I need to ask Nikki something, in private.”

“Uh, sure.” He inched the door closed, eyes begging for information.

The room was cheery, clean, dappled with sunlight. Gina rubbed her hands against her lower back, felt the floor tilt and sway. She braced her-self by the bed.

“What is it, darling?”

“I . . .” Beneath her mother’s scrutiny, she vacillated. “I’m not even sure what I want to ask. Did you get a visit a few weeks back from Cal? You know, Cal from

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