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"Sounds familiar."

"It wasn't an easy life."

I swear I learn something more about this woman every time I see her. I wonder why Carson never mentioned that. Oh, I know. Because he never talks about anything.

"Yeah, I guess I should have been wiser about that." My voice is distant, even to myself. "I think we both just got caught in the moment."

She doesn't fill the quiet that follows. She lets it sit in the room with us and keeps smoothing the hem and looks out at the lot where the heat comes up off the cars in waves.

Then she makes a small sound, half a laugh, like a thing that has been annoying her for years.

"That boy never asked me for anything he thought I couldn't spare."

I hold still.

"Not money. Not time. Nothing." She shakes her head. "I'd have given him anything."

I don't have a response for her. I don't know what to do with that piece of him, so I leave it alone. Her hands go quiet. After a while, she turns and looks at me, pleasant, a woman being kind to a guest.

"Do you have children, honey?"

"I do." My throat catches, and I push through it. "Two of them. They're twins."

"How wonderful."

I open the photos again. She goes through them slowly, one at a time.

"Which is which?"

"Graham's in the blue. Hildie's the one in the pink hat.”

“Oh, I’ve never known another Hildie. How nifty.”

She turns toward the window. I try to see what's got her attention, but nobody's out there. A few seconds later, I ask if she wants something to drink. She looks back at me. Nothing in her face says she knows who I am.

"That would be lovely, dear. Thank you."

I go to the kitchen and make her a glass of ice water. I bring it to her. She smiles up at me as warmly as ever, her kind blue eyes twinkling.

"Thank you, Jane."

I smile back. "You're most welcome, Hildie."

Both babies are down. The monitor sits on the rail with its green lights holding, one bar of quiet.

The phone rings, and I have it at my ear before the first buzz finishes.

"Hi."

"Hey." Something's wrong in the one word, and it isn't tiredness. He's gone flat, and he's holding it very still. "I'm so sorry I've been MIA. It's been nonstop here."

"I figured. You okay?"

"Yeah."

No mention of passing the ten-day mark or making plans for when he will come.

"Weaning's coming up. Once I start, I'm not leaving the place. Shipping's the twenty-eighth."