“And what if I wasn’t raped, really? What if I was just stupid drunk and let some guy—”

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “We’ve been together over five months. You’re not like that. We’ve had a beer or two together—you’re not like that. That isn’t what happened.”

“There might’ve been a drug,” she said.

He pulled her close against him. It was hard, but he tried to focus on Brenda’s feelings rather than building rage at what had been done to his girl, even before she was his girl. Of course he remembered the fight he’d been in with Whitley. It turned his stomach to think that little prick could’ve slipped his girl a drug and then used her. But he couldn’t let himself think about that yet. He had to keep his arms around her, convince her he would never hold that against her. “Yeah,” he said. “There might’ve been.”

“Ever since that happened, I feel like trash. When you first started talking to me in school? When I told you I’d been sick? I hadn’t been sick. I’d been knocked up while I was passed out.”

“You are not trash,” he whispered softly, not trusting his voice. “You’re an angel. Pure as gold. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s not how it feels. Tommy,” she said miserably, “I dated before and I wouldn’t give it up—I was saving it for someone really special. Someone like you—someone I really loved. And now I can’t.”

“No one else can ever take that away, Brenda. When… If… If it’s us and we know it’s time and it’s right, it’ll be special. I promise.”

“How can it be? The first time should be so special. Now it won’t even be the first time!”

He brushed her hair away from her eyes. “What can I do to show you that I love you just the same? Respect you? Huh?”

“I don’t know….”

“I do. Come on, we’re going to take care of these horses. Then we’re going to find a nice soft bale of hay and I’m going to hold you. Hold you and kiss you until you believe me when I say I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I was so scared to tell you.”

“I know, Bren. It’s okay now. I don’t want you to ever worry about that again. Okay?”

An hour later, lying on the fresh hay in the stall, Tommy held his girl, kissed her, touched her gently in the places she’d begun to allow and told her how much he cared about her. He was careful not to try anything more or do anything less, and after a while she curved against him in their familiar way, trusting him. In case she wondered if she still turned him on, it took absolutely no effort on his part to demonstrate that he was just as easily aroused by her as ever before. Then when he took her home, he kissed her on the front porch and told her as far as he was concerned, she was perfect. Pure and perfect.

He might’ve been a little quiet at dinner, but around his house the past couple of months, that went completely unnoticed. A little later he told his dad he was going to run into town and would be back in an hour or so. Walt probably assumed he was going to see Brenda.

He parked his truck around behind the bar, just in case the Carpenters happened to be having an evening drink, something they did with their friends the Bristols from time to time. He walked back to Mike’s RV and knocked on the door. Mike opened it. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure. Wanna come inside?”

“How about out here?” Tom said.

Mike grabbed his coat and stepped outside.

“Remember those parties you were asking about?” Tom asked, standing beside Mike but looking straight ahead.

“Yeah,” Mike said.

“You think there might’ve been a drug that made people pass out?”

“Very possible,” Mike said.

“Maybe things happened to people while they were passed out? Against their will?” he asked, still looking straight ahead.

“Could be.”

Tom turned to look at Mike. “I bet I know who has some. I bet I can get him to sell me some.”

“And how would you know this?” Mike asked.

Tom shrugged. “I’m just an investigative genius.”

“You’d do this? A buy? There’d have to be police, you know.”

“I know,” Tom said. “In fact, I’ll check and see if I can get some other stuff. If I’m going to do this, might as well get it done right. Might be meth or ecstasy or something. That interest you at all?” Tom asked.

“Pal, what interests me is getting anything that could hurt people off the street. If you think you can help me do that, I’d sure appreciate it.”

“This what you’ve been looking for, asking all your questions?”

“Yup.”

“Then let’s do it,” Tom said.

Fifteen

Vanessa had asked Paul if he could stay until the baby came and he said he could if she wanted him to. By his calculations, the house would be finished at about the same time Vanni gave birth. Jack and Mel would still have one or two things to do—carpet, appliances, paint—but the general contractor wouldn’t be needed for that. And the house was shaping up very well—the hardwood floors sanded and varnished, master bath complete, plumbing and light fixtures in, walls textured for painting, porch painted and sealed. Furniture deliveries were scheduled. Mel was spending evenings packing dishes and things at the cabin.

And Vanni was getting huge.

She wasn’t crying so much these days. It seemed as though a lot of her attention was focused on preparing to go into labor. Oh, there were times she’d get a little weepy, which was certainly to be expected. But she was so strong—Paul just admired the hell out of her.

When he came home from the job site one day, she met him in the foyer. “Come with me,” she said. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“I should wash up first.”

“No, just come.” She took his hand and led him into the great room. She sat in one of the overstuffed leather chairs and directed Paul to another. This was the most animated Paul had seen her in a long time. Her cheeks were bright; her eyes sparkled. “Paul, the baby is coming very soon.”

He smiled. “That’s getting real obvious.”

“You’re my very best friend, Paul.”

“Thanks, Vanni,” he said, but he furrowed his eyebrows. Suspicious.

“I want you to be with me during the delivery.”

“With you how?” he asked.

“I want you to be the one to encourage me, coach me, coax me. Hold my hand. Support me.”

“Um… Isn’t that Mel’s job?”

“Mel is going to be very much a coach, but she’s also going to be the midwife and she’ll be busy with other things. Especially when the baby is coming out. I need you to do this.”

“Vanni,” he said, scooting forward on his chair, “I’m a guy.”

“I know. Guys do this.”

“I can’t…Vanni, I shouldn’t…. Vanessa, listen. I can’t see you like that. It wouldn’t be…appropriate.”

“Well, actually, I thought about my brother or my dad and frankly, that really doesn’t appeal to me. So,” she said, lifting a video from the table beside her, “I got us a childbirth movie from Mel.”

“Aw, no,” he said, pleading.

She stood up and popped it into the VCR, then sat down again with the remote in her hand. “Jack delivered his own son,” she said.

“I know, but in case you’re interested, he wasn’t thrilled about it at the time. And he refuses to do it again—he’s adamant about that. And, Vanni, this isn’t my son. This is my best friend’s son.”

“Of course I know that, Paul. But since it is your best friend’s son, he’d be so grateful.” She started the video. “Now, I want you to concentrate on what the partner is doing. Don’t worry about the mother. Most of the time while I’m in labor you’ll either be behind me, or helping me walk or squat to use gravity to help with the dilating, or reminding me to breathe properly. It’s not like you’re going to have your face in the field of birth.”

“I’m starting to feel kind of weak,” he said. “Why don’t you ask Brie or Paige, if you need someone for that?”

“I could do that, but to tell you the truth, I’m much closer to you. And you’re here—right here. You can do this. We’ll watch the movie together and if you have any questions, just ask me.”

He looked at the screen, his brows drawn together. He squinted. This was an unattractive woman, giving birth. Well, not just yet—she was working up to it. Her big belly was sticking out, which was not what made her plain. It was the stringy hair, monobrow, baggy socks on her feet and—“Vanni, she has very hairy legs.”

“If that’s what worries you I can still manage to shave my legs, even though I have to admit I’ve lost interest.”

The hospital gown on the woman was draped over her belly and legs in such a way that when she started to rise into a sitting position, spreading her thighs and grabbing them to bear down, she was covered. Then the doctor or midwife or whoever was in charge flipped that gown out of the way and there, right in Paul’s face, was the top of a baby’s head emerging from the woman’s body. “Aw, man,” he whined, putting his head in his hands.

“I said watch the coach—don’t worry about the woman,” Vanni lectured.

“It’s pretty damn hard to not look at that, Vanni,” he said.

“Concentrate.”

So he looked up and saw that behind the woman, supporting her, was a man—presumably her husband—holding her shoulders and smiling and telling her to push. But Paul’s gaze dropped, because how could he help it? And there, again, was the baby’s head.

“This is cruel and unusual,” he muttered.

“You go to war and shoot animals in the woods—surely you can do this,” she said, getting very bossy as she did so. “Big animals—you shoot big animals. This is a lot nicer than that.”

“Depends entirely on what you’re used to,” he grumbled. He watched as the man on the screen told the woman to pant, pant, pant and then push, push, push. Well, how hard was that? And the woman was sweating as if she had just run a marathon. She grabbed her own thighs again, pulled herself up, bore down with a grunt and a snarl as if bench-pressing 350, and holy shit! The head popped right out of her! “Aw, man,” he whined again, ducking and swinging his head, bringing himself right to a standing position, turning his back on the TV. “Vanessa, where is your father?”

“I sent Dad and Tommy to the stable so we could watch this movie together.”

“Vanessa, I cannot do this. It’s not like I’ve been expecting to do this for a long time. Or if you were like some stranger, a woman suddenly having a baby in my taxicab or something—”

“Look, Paul,” she said, pointing. He glanced back at the screen over his shoulder and saw the whole baby come sliding out, all gross and mucky, right into the doctor’s hands. And the cord, still attached, was threaded up inside the woman.

Paul sat down and put his head between his knees, because it would be so embarrassing to faint and have her revive him. “Vanessa,” he said miserably, “you are making the biggest mistake of your life here.”

Her hand was on his knee. “We can watch it several times until you get used to it. Desensitized, as it were.”

“Please, God, no…”

“Well, if that’s what it takes…”