Chapter 2 - THE ROOM ABOVE THE BOOKSTORE
Newport looked nothing like Manhattan.
That was exactly why Amy chose it.
No towers blocked the horizon.
No black cars waited outside expensive restaurants.
No photographers hovered near hotel entrances.
There was only gray ocean, wet streets, fishing boats, and the steady sound of waves breaking against the Oregon coast.
Claire’s friend, Ruth Bennett, owned a narrow bookstore two blocks from the harbor.
She was sixty-three, sharp-eyed, warm without being intrusive, and completely unimpressed by Amy’s last name.
“You’re Claire’s friend.”
Amy nodded.
“That’s all I need to know.”
Ruth handed her a brass key.
“The apartment is upstairs.”
Amy carried her suitcase into a tiny room with slanted ceilings, pale walls, an old sofa, and two windows facing the harbor.
It was smaller than her Manhattan dressing room.
Amy loved it immediately.
She set her purse on the kitchen table.
The cream envelope remained inside.
She still had not opened it since leaving New York.
The ultrasound image felt like something belonging to another version of her.
A woman who had expected to hand it to her husband and watch his face light up.
Amy lowered herself into a chair.
Her phone remained off.
For nearly twelve hours, Daniel Harrison had not been able to reach her.
That should have made her nervous.
Instead, it made the room feel peaceful.
Ruth knocked around noon carrying soup and bread.
“You need food.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re pregnant.”
Amy blinked.
Ruth pointed toward her stomach.
“I raised three children.”
Amy laughed despite herself.
“Is it that obvious?”
“To someone who spent thirty years watching pregnant women insist they weren’t tired, yes.”
Ruth placed the food on the counter.
“I don’t need details.”
Amy looked toward the window.
“My husband doesn’t know where I am.”
“Do you want him to?”
“No.”
Ruth nodded once.
“Then he doesn’t.”
No questions.
No judgment.
Amy almost cried at the simplicity of it.
That evening she finally turned on her phone.
Seventy-four missed calls.
Forty-one messages.
Daniel.
Margaret.
Two friends.
Daniel again.
She opened the newest message.
I know about the baby.
Amy stopped breathing.
Another message followed.
I found the medical paperwork.
Then another.
Please tell me you’re safe.
Amy stared at the screen.
Her first reaction was anger.
Not because Daniel knew.
Because suddenly he was paying attention.
Now.
After seventeen weeks.
After seven years.
After she left.
Her thumb hovered above his name.
Then the phone rang.
Daniel.
Amy nearly rejected it.
Instead she answered.
Neither spoke.
Finally Daniel whispered, “Amy?”
She closed her eyes.
“I’m safe.”
His exhale sounded almost painful.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Okay.”
The answer surprised her.
Daniel never accepted losing control easily.
“Amy, I found the paperwork.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Amy looked out at the ocean.
She almost laughed.
“I tried.”
Daniel went silent.
“More than once.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s the point.”
His breathing changed.
“Amy, please.”
“No.”
“Please what?”
“I don’t even know.”
She heard the truth in his voice.
For once, Daniel had no prepared argument.
No solution.
No deal to negotiate.
Amy touched her stomach.
“I need time.”
“I want to see you.”
“I know.”
“I want to see our baby.”
Amy swallowed.
May you like
“You had seventeen weeks to see me.”
Then she ended the call.
