“What?”

He pulls his hand from my back, turns so he’s facing rather than touching me. “It’s a small town. What’re you gonna do? The good news is that they host monthly mingles where all the men and women get together.”

“The women cook, I suppose?”

He laughs. “Probably. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll do the cooking. Just like I did for you this morning. We’ll shake them up from the inside.”

His laugh is warm and inviting. I’m not ready to give in yet, though. “What if you lose business by ‘shaking things up’? If they run this town, they’re not going to like change.”

“Nobody likes change, not at first. May I?”

He hovers his hand near my belly. I nod. He cups the curve just visible through my nightgown. “I see where they get the saying ‘a bun in the oven.’”

“Deck!” I swat him, but playfully. “You’re supposed to tell me I’ve never been more beautiful.”

“You haven’t,” he says, suddenly serious. He traces my cheek with the back of his finger. “Joanie, don’t think I don’t see what you’ve given up to move here with me, to keep me out of the war. To start a new life where you don’t know anyone. To have my baby. Gawd . . .”

He chokes on his next words. I’m shocked. I’ve never seen him emotional.

I toss my arms around him. “I love you, honey,” I say.

“I love you, too.” He kisses me on the mouth. I’m ashamed of my morning-breakfast breath. He doesn’t seem to mind. The kiss goes deeper, searching, and I feel a pleasant warmth flowing through my blood, pulsing between my legs. We haven’t made love nearly as much since I’ve been pregnant. I miss it.

He’s pulling back to kiss my neck, a move that electrifies me. I tilt my head to give him access. Instead, he tugs my face back and rests his nose on mine, our eyelashes nearly touching. “I need to ask a favor.”

“Yeah?” I’ve forgotten about my morning queasiness, the french toast, living in a small town. I just want him.

He clears his throat, his expression going soft. “I want to make lots of money, enough that we can buy a bigger house. A house that’s all ours. I’m going to shake up the Fathers and the Mothers, I promise you that, but there’s one area they won’t budge on, and that’s pregnant women drinking in public.”

His words are ice water. I pull back, slowly, my fingers arching into claws.

“Word reached the meeting last night that you were out at Little John’s.”

My surge of rage is perfectly counterbalanced by a sense of impotence, leaving me nothing but numb. “But Deck—” I start. He cuts me off before I can tell him that I didn’t even want to drink, barely choked down a sip before the heartburn kicked in.

“I know what you’re going to say. It’s your body, your choice. I agree with you, and I’ll tell the world that.”

The conversation is spinning so far away from me I can’t even see where to get in. I didn’t want to drink. I only wanted to socialize.

But Deck doesn’t notice my struggle. He’s gone back to fingering the lapel pin. “There’s a doctor in town that everyone loves. Dr. Krause. The Mothers say he’s the best. A real ace.”

The words that finally manage to plop out are ugly, childish. “You said no Mothers were allowed at the meeting.”

Deck’s eyes flick to me, then return to the pin. “A few Mothers dropped by at the end to clean up. You caused quite a buzz, popping up in Little John’s last night without me. Got the whole town talking.” He chuckles. “The Mothers suggested that you see Dr. Krause, get his opinion on how a pregnant woman should conduct herself. I figure, if he says drinking while pregnant is fine, then that’ll shut everyone up.”

I clip every word before I release it. I’m not even sure what I’m fighting for, but I’m desperate to be right about something. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll both stop drinking in public. We’ll save it for home, just the two of us.”

The numbness hasn’t receded.

“Please, Joanie? It’s only for a few more months.”

I twitch. He takes it for agreement. He stands, kissing the top of my head. “You’re the best. The absolute bee’s knees. I have to get going. Dad and I are looking at a property south of town. They need home insurance. Could be a big deal. Might go hunting after that.”

He grabs his wallet and keys and is out the door before I can ask him when he took up hunting.

CHAPTER 14

After I shower, I find a handwritten note threaded into my typewriter’s platen.

Baby, you are the earth, sun, and moon to me.

It’s the fourth note I’ve discovered since Deck left. One was taped to the milk inside the fridge, another written on a square of toilet paper still on the roll—that one made me smile, grudgingly—a third coiled in the elf’s-shoe twist of our toothpaste. All the notes say the same thing, essentially: Deck loves me and is always thinking of me.

The edges of my anger melt. I do need to find a doctor in Lilydale, after all. Might as well be one who comes highly recommended. Besides, it’s so silly, how this escalated. I simply wanted to get out of the house last night. I’d be fine never having another drink in my life.

I make a silent pledge to call Dr. Krause first thing Monday morning.

That’s also the deadline for the article I’m turning in to Dennis, but I see no reason to wait. I prop up the notebook that I brought to last night’s concert, scanning my neat shorthand. With luck, the camera holds four or five good photos. Personally, I hope Dennis chooses the one featuring the student-made yellow submarine, a painted plywood cutout as large as a car. It had required several kids to wheel it out, and their pride glowed on their faces.

I click on the radio for background noise and begin typing.

We All Live in a Lilydale Dream

The radio drama that I flipped on is interrupted with another Vietnam story, this one about American troubles at Kham Duc. During an evacuation, there wasn’t enough room in the helicopters for Chinese soldiers battling alongside the American boys. I think about those miserable men left behind, fighting a strange war with no end. I’m ashamed at how easy it is to tune out their pain, halfway across the world and me in this sleepy little town, but that’s exactly what I do when I snap off the radio. A person can sit with only so much bad news.

Then I pause, bite my lip, and type my very first byline, a happy flush warming my cheeks.

By Joan Harken

May 11, 1968

Lilydale Elementary School’s Spring Musical program was a hit! The May 10 extravaganza featured music by The Beatles with each grade, kindergarten through fourth, presenting one song. Miss Colivan, fourth grade teacher, told the packed gym that “we wanted a modern presentation, something children and parents alike could enjoy.” The song list:

Kindergarten: “Twist and Shout”

First Grade: “I’m Only Sleeping”

Second Grade: “I’m Happy Just to Dance with You”

Third Grade: “She Loves You”

Fourth Grade: “I Want to Hold Your Hand”