Two days, thirteen hours until Halloween
Corinne
“How you feeling?” Jackie asks when I answer the phone.
I take stock as I make tea. “Okay, I guess,” I tell her. “I haven’t thrown up yet.”
“Good,” she tells me. “That’s progress.”
“I guess,” I say, holding my hot cup in my hands, warming my fingers. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she says brightly. “Teddy is going to take me on a last-minute getaway. I’m so excited I can’t see straight.”
“Where to?” I ask, more to make conversation than anything else.
“Sonoma and Napa. I’ll bring you back some wine. You can have it after the baby’s born.”
I smile. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll need it.”
She giggles. “I leave tomorrow, and I’ll be gone for a week. Do you need anything before I go?”
“Nope. But thanks for checking.”
“Okay. Well, I’ve gotta go do laundry and pack.”
“Talk to you later.”
I hang up and turn the fireplace on, and as I do, I see Michel’s truck pulling into the drive. He and Jude must’ve cut breakfast short.
He doesn’t even knock. Like usual, he just pokes his head in and calls to me.
“Come in, goofball,” I tell him. “I’m right here.”
He has two cups of coffee in his hands, and a sack.
“I came to bring my brother breakfast,” he says. “Am I too late to catch him?”
I pause, startled, and my chest feels weird. Tight.
“Um, weren’t you meeting him at the café?”
He blinks, staring at me.
One beat passes.
Then two.
“Uhhh, yeah. We were. But then I ran late, and I’m not sure if he got my text.”
His tone is off and he’s uncomfortable. He even pulls at his collar.
“Michel,” I remind him, “lying is a sin. Is everything okay?”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, of course. Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know.” I eye him. “Why would you?”
He loosens, rolling his eyes. “You’re worrying too much, Co. We just crossed signals. No big deal. And the bright side? You get a free breakfast.”
He thrusts the sack at me, and I take a cup of coffee, even though I know I won’t drink it. Now that I’m pregnant, I have to give up caffeine.
“Thanks, bro,” I tell him.
He grins. “Anytime. You need anything else?”
“Nope. I’m just going to eat my newly acquired breakfast and then maybe shower.”
He pats my back, and before he’s even pulled out of the drive, I’ve texted Jude.
How was Michel this morning?
Because something isn’t right.
I feel it.
I feel it.
Jude doesn’t answer until I’m throwing my breakfast trash away.
Fine, why?
My heart pounds and pounds. Because why would he lie to me?
No reason, I answer. Have a good day.
I try to enjoy my own, but it’s almost impossible...because something something something niggles at me.
Something tells me that everything is wrong.
I consider digging around, and trying to find things out on my own, but decide a direct approach is best.
I call Michel.
“Hey!” he answers. “Don’t blame me if the breakfast was crappy. I didn’t make it myself.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see. “No, it’s not that. Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” His answer is immediate.
“It’s about Jude,” I warn him. “I don’t want to believe it, but I feel like something might be going on.”
“What do you mean?” Michel is cautious, his words slow. I know I have to tread lightly here. Michel is a priest, and he loves me, but Jude is still his twin brother. I know his allegiance will always lie with him.
“There was something weird about this morning. He told me that he was meeting you for breakfast, but he didn’t. And when I asked him how you were, he said fine.”
Michel is silent.
My brother-in-law is still silent, for one beat, then another.
“Michel?”
He sighs. “Yeah. I...I don’t exactly know, Corinne. But I do know this. He’s been very worried about you lately. And you know him. When he’s worried or upset, he withdraws. He probably thought it would hurt your feelings to tell you that he just wanted some alone time.”
“You really think nothing is going on?”
“What do you think would be going on?” he asks, and he’s still careful.
I feel sillier by the minute. “I...worry that he might be seeing someone.”
“Oh. Don’t worry about that, Co. No way. I know my brother, and he wouldn’t. He loves you. He’s always talking about you, always worrying about you. I swear—it’s just this time of year. He’s always worried that he’s going to say something that will trigger you.”
I consider that.
“Well, if he wasn’t with you, where was he this morning?”
Michel’s answer is immediate. “Probably taking some alone time. Running or eating. It’s all he ever does. And when he’s upset, he likes to be alone. He hasn’t been calling me much lately, so I know he’s troubled.”
I’m troubling him.
That thought makes me feel guilty and troubled myself.
“Thanks, big brother,” I tell him softly. “I’ll talk to him. I don’t want him to tiptoe around me. I’m not made of glass.”
“I know you’re not,” he answers. “I’ll talk to him, too.”
“You don’t have to,” I start to say, but he interrupts.
“I want to. You know I love both of you.”
“I know.”