Chapter 6
The road from the house to the gate was longer than I remembered. It curved past the hydrangeas and the low stone wall, and the rain made it slick and black. My feet found every piece of gravel through the puddles. The green gown clung to my legs and I had to lift it with one hand while the other stayed under my belly. I could hear Mark behind me, not close enough to touch, close enough that his dress shoes splashed in time with my steps.
I didn't look back. I kept my eyes on the lights at the gatehouse. They were warm and yellow, and for a second I let myself think that meant someone would help.
The gate guard was already outside. He stood under the small overhang with a rain jacket on, his hands in his pockets. I'd seen him before at the Christmas party when Evelyn had him help carry in the catering trays. He was young, maybe twenty-two, and he looked at me and then quickly looked away toward Mark.
"Sofia," he said, uncertain. His eyes dropped to my bare feet, to the wet gown stuck to my stomach. "Ma'am? You need..."
I stopped in front of him. Rain ran down my face and I had to wipe it to see. My breath was short from walking and from the cold.
"Can you call a car for me?" I said. My voice was hoarse. "Please."
He glanced past me. Mark had caught up and stood a few feet back, his hands out a little at his sides, palms open like he was showing he wasn't going to grab me.
"She's okay," Mark said to him, quiet and even. "We're good here, James. Just a family argument. She wants some air."
James — the guard — nodded. Just a small nod to Mark. He didn't look at me again. He stepped back half a step, giving us space, and his hand went to the radio on his shoulder but he didn't press it. He stared out at the county road beyond the gate like that was his job now, watching the empty road.
I felt it then, the way the outside world could look right at you and decide not to see you. The gate itself was still closed, the iron bars wet and shining. I waited for him to press the button to open it. He didn't.
"James," I said. "Please open the gate."
He hesitated. Then Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out the small black fob. He held it up so James could see. James gave another tiny nod, as if Mark was the one who had asked.
The gate hummed and started to slide open. Slow. The motor whined in the rain.
I didn't wait for it to finish. I slipped through as soon as there was room, my shoulder almost brushing the iron. The wet from the bars flicked onto my arm. My feet left the smooth estate asphalt and hit the rougher county road, the chipped blacktop with the white fog line half faded. It was colder there. Water pooled in the tire grooves.
Beyond the gate, the road stretched dark in both directions. To the left, a half mile ahead, I could see the lights I'd been walking toward. The diner. The Miller's sign, the one with the neon coffee cup, buzzed pink and yellow even through the rain. I'd driven past it a hundred times and never stopped. Now it was the only thing lit for miles.
Mark came through the gate behind me. He didn't try to close the distance right away. He stayed a step behind, his suit jacket dark and ruined, his hair plastered down.
"Sofia, slow down," he said. His voice was softer now, almost gentle. "You're barefoot. You're going to hurt yourself. Let me walk with you."
I kept walking. The rain hit the back of my neck. Each step sent a dull ache up from my arches into my calves. My belly felt heavy and tight, and I had to brace it again.
He caught up and his hand came to my elbow, light, not gripping like on the steps. Just his fingers under my arm, trying to guide me, to make it look like we were together.
"Just let me help you," he said. "It's freezing. You shouldn't be out here like this."
I stopped. I looked down at his hand on my arm. His fingers were pale and wet. I could feel the heat of his palm even through the cold rain.
I pulled my arm away. I didn't yank it. I shrugged it off, a hard shrug that turned my shoulder. My wet hair swung with it.
"Don't," I said.
He let go right away. He put both hands up again.
"Okay. Okay," he said. "I won't touch you. But I'm going to stay with you. I can't let you walk alone on this road in the dark. Not like this."
I started walking again. He walked beside me now, not behind, but with a foot of space between us that he was careful to keep. The guard's lights fell behind us. I didn't look back to see if James was still watching or if he'd gone back inside his warm booth.
The diner lights got a little bigger with every block. Rain filled my shoes — except I had no shoes — it filled the spaces between my toes. My gown sucked at my legs. I counted the telephone poles to keep my breathing even. One, two, three. My chest hurt, but the baby moved, a small roll under my hand, and I pressed a little harder to steady it.
Mark kept pace. He didn't speak again for a long stretch. The only sound was the rain on the road and our feet and a car somewhere far off on the highway that never came close.
May you like
Halfway to the lights, I realized I was past the property line. There was no wall anymore, just ditch grass and a county road sign covered in rain. The estate was behind me. Whatever happened next, it wouldn't be inside those gates.
I kept my eyes on the pink coffee cup and walked toward it.
