OW DO YOU KNOW THE BABY IS YOURS?

Jeremy knocked back his chair as he rose from the desk, still focused on the message. Of course the baby’s mine! he wanted to scream. I know because I know!

Yes, the message seemed to ask, you say you know. But how do you know?

His mind raced for the answers. Because he and Lexie spent a wonderful night together. Because she told him it was his baby and she had no reason to lie. Because they were getting married. Because it couldn’t be anyone else’s. Because it was his baby. . . .

Wasn’t it?

Had he been anyone else, had his history been different, had he known Lexie for years, the answer would have been obvious; but.

That was the thing about life, he knew. There was always a but.

He shook the thought away, focusing on the message, trying to get control of his emotions. There was no need to get worked up about this, he told himself, even if the message not only was offensive, but bordered on . . . evil. That’s how he viewed it. Evil. What kind of person would write such a thing? And for what reason? Because he thought it was funny? Because he wanted to start an argument between Lexie and Jeremy? Because . . .

He went blank for an instant, fumbling, his mind racing, knowing the answer but not wanting to admit it.

Because . . .

Because, the little voice in his head finally answered, whoever sent it knew that deep down, there was an instant when you wondered, too?

No, he suddenly thought, that was a lie. He knew the baby was his.

Except, of course, that you aren’t able to get a woman pregnant, the little voice reminded him.

With a flash, it all came rushing back-his first marriage to Maria, the difficulty they’d had getting pregnant, the trips to the fertility clinic, the tests he’d taken, all culminating with the doctor’s words: It’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever be able to father a child.

It was a kind choice of words: Jeremy had learned during that visit that for all intents and purposes he was sterile, a reality that eventually led Maria to ask for a divorce.

He remembered the doctor telling him that his sperm count was low-almost negligible, in fact-and those he did produce showed very little motility. Jeremy recalled sitting in the office in shock, grasping at any option. How about if I wore boxers? I’ve heard that helps, or How about treatments? There was nothing they could really do for him, the doctor explained. Nothing likely to be effective.

That day had been one of the most devastating of his life; until that point, he’d always assumed that he’d have children, and after the divorce, he’d reacted by becoming someone else entirely. He had more one-night stands than he could count and assumed he would lead the life of a bachelor forever. Until he met Lexie. And the miracle of her pregnancy, a child created out of passion and love, made him realize how pointless those years had been.

Unless . . .

No, scratch that, Jeremy thought. There was no unless. Of course the baby was his. Everything-from the timing, to Lexie’s behavior all along, to the way Doris treated him now-assured him that he was the father of the baby. He repeated those thoughts like a mantra, hoping to drown out the reality of the doctor’s words so long ago.

The message continued to taunt him. Who sent the e-mail? And, he wondered again, why?

Years of investigative research had taught him quite a bit about the Internet, and though the sender used an address Jeremy didn’t recognize, he knew that all e-mails could eventually be traced. With a bit of persistence and the right phone calls to a few contacts he’d made over the years, he could trace the e-mail back to the server and, from there, to the computer from which it had originated. He noticed that the message had arrived less than twenty minutes earlier, right around the time he was getting back to Greenleaf.

But again, the question was Why? Why would someone send it?

With the exception of Lexie, Jeremy had never told anyone-not his parents or his friends-about his inability to father children, and though there had been an instant when he’d wondered how the pregnancy had happened despite the odds, he’d shrugged that thought off. But if only Maria and Lexie knew-and neither one, he was sure, had sent it-then again, what was the reason? Was it a prank?

Doris had mentioned that some people had begun to suspect that Lexie was pregnant-Rachel, for instance. But he couldn’t picture Rachel being responsible for the e-mail. She and Lexie had been friends for years, and this wasn’t the sort of prank friends played on one another.

But if it hadn’t been meant as a prank, the only conceivable reason to send the e-mail was to cause trouble between Jeremy and Lexie. But again, who would do that?

The real father? a voice inside whispered, suddenly making him remember Lexie and Rodney holding hands.

Jeremy shook his head. Rodney and Lexie? He’d gone over that a thousand times, and it simply wasn’t possible. It was ridiculous even to consider it.

Except that it does explain the e-mail, the voice whispered again.

No, he thought, this time more adamantly. Lexie wasn’t like that. Lexie wasn’t sleeping with someone else that week; Lexie wasn’t even seeing someone else. And Rodney wasn’t the kind of man who would write an e-mail; he would have confronted Jeremy in person.

Jeremy pressed the button to delete the e-mail. When the screen flashed the confirmation, however, his finger seemed to freeze. Did he really want to delete it now, without finding out who had sent it?

No, he decided, he wanted to know. It would take some time, but he’d find out and speak to whoever sent it, make him see how tasteless it was. And if it was Rodney . . . well, not only would Jeremy confront him, but there was no doubt that Lexie would give him a piece of her mind as well.

He nodded. Oh, he’d find out who did it all right. He saved the message, with the intent to begin the search immediately. And once he learned anything, Lexie would be the first to know.

Spending the evening with Lexie assuaged any doubts he had that he was indeed the father. At dinner, Lexie chatted away as usual; in fact, over the next week, Lexie acted as if nothing was bothering her at all. Which, in all honesty, Jeremy considered somewhat strange, considering that the wedding was now only a little more than two weeks away, they would close on the house a week from Friday-though it was still a long way from being habitable-and Jeremy had begun to wonder aloud where he was going to work in Boone Creek, since he’d obviously forgotten how to write an article. He’d sent another prewritten column, leaving only three left to submit. He hadn’t been able to trace the e-mail yet; whoever had done it had covered his tracks well. The address was not only anonymous, it had been routed through a series of different servers-one offshore and another that was unwilling to divulge information without a court order. Luckily he knew someone in New York who thought he could hack in, but it was going to take a little time. The guy freelanced for the FBI and they kept him busy.

On the plus side, aside from another teary episode in the middle of the night, Lexie seemed far less stressed than he was. Of course, that didn’t mean she was exactly the woman he’d imagined her to be. She was, he’d come to realize, completely in charge of the pregnancy. Granted, she was the one carrying the baby, she was the one with the crazy mood swings, and she was the one who read all the books, but it wasn’t as if Jeremy were clueless. Or that he was bored with the details she seemed to find so intriguing. On the following Saturday morning, with the bright April sun coming down hard, Lexie jingled her keys as they were about to leave to go shopping, as if giving him one last chance to back out of his fatherly duties.

“Are you sure about coming with me today?” Lexie asked.

“Positive.”

“Wasn’t there a basketball game on television that you want to watch? You’re going to miss it.”

He smiled. “I’ll be fine. There are more games tomorrow.”

“You do know this is going to take some time.”

“So?”

“I just don’t want you to get bored.”

“I won’t get bored. I love shopping,” Jeremy promised.

“Since when? And besides, it’s just baby stuff.”

“I live to buy baby stuff.”

She shook her head. “Suit yourself.”

An hour later, after arriving in Greenville, Jeremy entered one of those warehouse baby stores and suddenly wondered whether Lexie might have been right. The place was unlike anything he’d ever seen in New York. Not only was it cavernous, with wide aisles and towering ceilings, but the choice of items on sale was dizzying. If buying things proved how much you loved your children, this was obviously the place to go. Jeremy spent the first few minutes wandering around in disbelief, and wondering who had come up with all this stuff.

Who knew, for instance, that there were literally thousands of different mobiles a parent could attach to the crib? Some with animals, others with colors, some with black-and-white geometric shapes, some that played music, others that spun in slow circles. It went without saying that each mobile had been scientifically shown to stimulate the intellectual development of the baby, and he and Lexie must have stood in the aisle examining the choices for nearly twenty minutes, during which time Jeremy learned that his opinion was usually no help whatsoever.

“I’ve read that babies respond mostly to black and white,” Lexie said.

“Then let’s go with this one,” Jeremy said, pointing to one with black-and-white designs.

“But I was going to go with an animal theme, and I don’t think it’ll match.”

“It’s just a mobile. No one’s going to notice.”

“I’ll notice.”

“Then let’s go with this one. With the hippos and giraffes.”

“But it’s not black and white.”

“Do you really think it matters? That if our baby doesn’t have a black-and-white mobile as an infant, she’s going to flunk out of kindergarten?”

“No, of course not,” Lexie said. Still, she stood in the aisle, her arms crossed, seemingly no closer to a decision.

“What about this one?” Jeremy finally offered. “It’s got panels that you can switch from black and white to animals, and it spins and plays music to boot.”

Her expression was almost sad as she peered at him. “Don’t you think she might get overstimulated by something like that?”

Somehow, they were able to select the mobile (black-and-white animals, able to spin, but no music), and for some reason, Jeremy made the assumption that everything would go more smoothly from that point on. And over the next few hours, some choices were easy-blankets, pacifiers, and, surprisingly, the crib itself-but when they hit the aisle offering car seats, they were flummoxed again. Jeremy had never imagined that it wasn’t possible to make do with only one car seat; instead, there were the “less than six months old facing backward” car seat, the “easy to remove and lightweight” car seat, the “can be attached to a stroller” car seat, the “toddler forward facing” car seat, and the “heavy duty if there’s an accident” car seat. Add in the endless patterns and colors, the ease or difficulty with which it could be removed from the car, and the buckling mechanisms, and by the end, Jeremy felt lucky that they ended up with only two, both rated as a “Best Buy” for safety in Consumer Reports. This Best Buy status seemed ironic in light of the exorbitant price and the fact that the infant car seat would more than likely end up in the attic only a few months after the baby was born.

But safety was paramount. As Lexie reminded him, “You want our baby to be safe, don’t you?”

It wasn’t as if he could disagree, was it?

“You’re right,” he answered, loading the two boxes atop the mountain of items they’d accumulated. Two carts were already filled, and they were working on the third. “By the way, what time is it?”

“It’s ten after three. About ten minutes later than the last time you asked.”

“Really? It seems later.”

“That’s what you said ten minutes ago.”

“Sorry about that.”

“I tried to warn you that you’d be bored.”

“I’m not bored,” he lied. “Unlike some fathers, I care about my baby.”

She seemed amused. “Good. But we’re almost done here anyway.”

“Really?”

“I just want to look at some clothes real quick.”

“Great,” Jeremy forced out, thinking that was an unlikely scenario if ever there was one.

“It’ll only be a minute.”

“Take your time,” he said, as if proving his gallantry.

She did. All in all, he figured they spent nearly six years looking at clothing that afternoon. With aching legs and feeling something like a pack mule, Jeremy found a ledge to sit on while Lexie seemed intent on examining each and every baby outfit the store had to offer. One by one, she’d select an item, hold it up, and either frown or smile in delight, as she imagined their little girl wearing it. Which, of course, made no sense at all to Jeremy, since they had no idea what their baby was going to look like.

“How about Savannah?” Lexie said while holding up yet another outfit. This one, Jeremy noticed, was pink with purple bunnies.

“I’ve only been there once,” he said.

She lowered the outfit. “I’m talking about a name for the baby. How about Savannah?”

Jeremy thought about it. “Nah,” he said, “it sounds too southern.”

“What’s wrong with that? She is southern.”

“But her daddy’s a Yankee, remember?”

“Fine. What names do you like?”

“How about Anna?”

“Aren’t half the women in your family named Anna?”

This was true, Jeremy thought. “Yes, but think how flattered every one of them will be.”

Lexie shook her head. “We can’t go with Anna. I want her to have her own name.”

“How about Olivia?”

Lexie shook her head again. “No. We can’t do that to her.”

“What’s wrong with Olivia?”

“There was a girl I went to school with who was named Olivia. She had a terrible case of acne.”

“So?”

“Brings back bad memories.”

Jeremy nodded, thinking it made sense. He wouldn’t name his daughter Maria, for instance. “What are some of your other ideas?”

“I was thinking about Bonnie, too. What do you think of that?”

“No, I dated a woman named Bonnie. She had nasty breath.”

“Sharon?”

He shrugged. “Same thing, except the Sharon I dated was a kleptomaniac.”

“Linda?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. That one threw a shoe at me.”

Lexie studied him carefully. “How many women have you dated in the last ten years?”

“I have no idea. Why?”

“Because I’m getting the sense that you’ve dated just about every name out there.”

“No, that’s not true.”

“Name one, then.”

Jeremy thought about it. “Gertrude. I can honestly say I’ve never dated a woman named Gertrude.”

After rolling her eyes, Lexie held up the outfit again, examined it once more, then set it aside before reaching for another. Only ten zillion more outfits to go, Jeremy thought. At this rate, we should be leaving the store right about the same time the baby is born.

She held up a new outfit before glancing at him. “Hmm . . .”

“Hmm what?”

“Gertrude, huh? I had an aunt named Gertrude, and she was just about the sweetest lady you’ve ever met.” She seemed to be conjuring up the memory. “Now that I think about it, there might be something there. I’ll have to consider that.”

“Wait,” Jeremy said, trying and failing to imagine calling any infant Gertrude, “you’re not serious.”

“We could call her Gertie for short. Or Trudy.”

Jeremy stood up. “No,” he said. “I can put up with a lot of things, but we are not going to name our baby Gertrude. I’m putting my foot down here. As the father, I think I have some say in this, and we’re not naming our daughter Gertrude. You asked for a name that I hadn’t dated.”

“Fine,” she said, putting down the outfit, “I was just teasing, anyway. I never liked that name.” She walked toward him and slipped her arms around his neck. “Tell you what-why don’t you let me make it up to you for dragging you around today. Maybe a nice romantic dinner at my place? With candles and wine . . . well, for you, anyway. And maybe after dinner, we’ll figure out something else to do.”

Only Lexie could make a day like today suddenly seem worth it, he realized. “I think I can come up with something.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“I may have to show you.”

“Even better,” she teased, but when she leaned in to kiss him, her cell phone suddenly chimed to life. The mood broken, she pulled back and fumbled through her purse for the phone and answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” she said, and though she didn’t say anything else right away, Jeremy suddenly knew that something was wrong.

An hour later, after checking out and quickly loading the car, they were sitting at a table at Herbs across from Doris. Though they’d already gone over it, Doris had been talking so fast that Jeremy had trouble keeping up.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” he said, raising his hands.

Doris took a long breath. “I just can’t explain it,” she said. “I mean, I know Rachel can be flighty, but never like this. She was supposed to work today. And no one knows where she’s gone.”

“What about Rodney?” Jeremy asked.

“He’s as upset as I am. He’s been looking for her all day. So have her parents. It just isn’t like her to vanish without telling anyone where she’s going. What if something happened to her?”

Doris looked as if she were about to cry. Rachel had worked at the restaurant for a dozen years and had been friends with Lexie before that; Jeremy knew that Doris regarded her as family.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe she just needed a break and headed out of town.”

“Without telling anyone? Without bothering to call and tell me that she wasn’t going to show up? Without talking to Rodney?”

“What did Rodney say, exactly? Did they have an argument, or . . . ?” Jeremy finally asked.

Doris shook her head. “He didn’t say anything. He came in this morning and asked if Rachel was around, and when I told him she hadn’t come in yet, he took a seat to wait for her. When she didn’t show, he decided to swing by her house. The next thing I knew, he was back here, asking if she was in yet since she wasn’t at home.”

“Was he angry?” Lexie asked, finally joining the conversation.

“No,” Doris said, reaching for a napkin. “He was upset, but he didn’t seem angry.”

Lexie nodded but said nothing else. In the silence, Jeremy shifted in his seat. “And she hadn’t stopped anywhere else? Like at her parents’?”

Doris worked the napkin in her hand, wringing it like a washrag. “Rodney didn’t say, but you know how he is. I know he didn’t stop after swinging by her house. He probably looked everywhere for her.”

“And her car was gone, too?” Jeremy pressed.

Doris nodded. “That’s why I’m so worried. What if something happened to her? What if someone took her?”

“You mean abducted her?”

“What else could I mean? Even if she wanted to leave, where would she go? She grew up here, her family’s here, her friends are here. I’ve never even heard her talk about someone from Raleigh or Norfolk, or anywhere else, for that matter. She’s not the type to just up and leave without telling anyone where she’s going.”

Jeremy said nothing. He glanced at Lexie, and though it appeared that she was listening, her gaze was unfocused, as if she were occupied by other thoughts.

“How have Rachel and Rodney been getting along?” Jeremy asked. “You mentioned that they were having some trouble before.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Doris asked. “Rodney’s more worried than I am. He didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“I’m not saying he did. I was just trying to figure out why she might have left.”

Doris eyed him, her expression unwavering. “I know what you’re thinking, Jeremy. It’s easy to blame Rodney, to think that he did something or said something that drove Rachel away. But that’s not it. Rodney had nothing to do with this. Whatever happened has to do with Rachel. Or someone else. Leave Rodney out of it. Something happened to Rachel. Or Rachel took off. It’s that simple.”

Her voice brooked no argument about the matter. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on,” he reasoned.

At his words, Doris’s tone softened. “I know you are,” she said, “and I know there’s probably nothing to worry about, but . . . but this is wrong somehow. Unless there’s something I don’t know about, Rachel just wouldn’t do this.”

“Has Rodney put out an APB?” Jeremy asked.

“I don’t know,” Doris said. “All I know is he’s out looking for her now. He promised to keep me informed, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I just know that something terrible is going to happen, if it hasn’t already.” She paused. “And I think it has something to do with you two.”

When she finished, Jeremy knew she was talking less about her feelings than her instincts. Though she readily claimed to be a diviner and someone who could predict the sex of babies before birth, she’d been less willing to claim clairvoyance regarding other matters. Nonetheless, her words left Jeremy with no doubt that she believed she was right. Rachel’s disappearance was somehow going to affect them all.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell us,” he said.

Doris sighed and stood up, tossing the crumpled napkin on the table. “I don’t know, either,” she said, turning toward the windows. “I can’t make sense of it. Rachel’s gone and I know I should be worried about that, and I am . . . but there’s something else about this . . . something I can’t make sense of. All I know is that none of this should have happened, and that-”

“Something bad is going to happen,” Lexie finished.

Both Doris and Jeremy turned toward her. Lexie sounded as convinced as Doris, but more than that, a note of understanding underscored her pronouncement, as if she knew exactly what it was that Doris had trouble formulating. Jeremy felt again like an outsider.

Doris said nothing; she didn’t have to. Whatever wavelength the two of them were sharing, whatever information passed between them, was incomprehensible to him. All at once, Jeremy was sure that each of them could be more specific if she wanted to be, but for some reason both had decided to keep him in the dark. Just as Lexie had kept him in the dark about that afternoon on the bench with Rodney.

As if on cue, Lexie reached across the table and rested her hand on Jeremy’s. “Maybe I should stay with Doris for a while.”

Jeremy pulled his hand back. Doris remained silent.

He nodded and rose from the table, again feeling like a stranger. He tried to convince himself that Lexie simply wanted to stay and comfort Doris, and he forced a smile. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m sure that Rachel’s fine,” Alvin’s voice boomed out of the cell phone. “She’s a big girl, and I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

After leaving Herbs, Jeremy had swung by Lexie’s and dropped off the baby items. He debated whether or not to wait for her there, then decided to head off to Greenleaf. Not to write, but to talk to Alvin. Despite himself, he was beginning to wonder how well he really knew Lexie. To his mind, she’d seemed more concerned about Rodney than she had about Rachel, and he wondered again what Rachel’s sudden departure meant.

“I know, but it is strange, don’t you think? I mean, you met her. Did she strike you as the type who would just up and leave without telling anyone?”

“Who knows,” Alvin said. “But it probably has something to do with Rodney.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s dating him, isn’t she? I don’t know, maybe they had a fight. Maybe she thinks he’s still hung up on Lexie or something like that and just wanted to get away to clear her mind for a few days. The same way Lexie did when she bolted off to the coast.”

Jeremy took that in, remembering his experience with Lexie, wondering if it was some sort of southern woman thing.

“Could be,” he said. “But Rodney didn’t say anything to Doris.”

“So Doris says. You don’t know that for sure. Maybe that’s what Lexie and Doris are talking about now, and it’s the reason they wanted to be alone. Maybe Doris is as worried about Rodney as she is about Rachel.”

Jeremy said nothing, wondering whether his friend was right. When Jeremy remained quiet, Alvin added, “Then again, it probably doesn’t mean anything. It’ll all work out, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “You’re probably right.”

Jeremy could hear Alvin breathing into the line.

“What’s really going on?” Alvin asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You . . . all this. Every time I talk to you, you seem more depressed.”

“Just busy,” Jeremy said, falling back on his standard answer. “There’s a lot going on.”

“Yeah, so you’ve told me. The repairs are bleeding you dry, you’re getting married, you’re going to have a baby. But you’ve been under pressure before, and you’ve got to admit your life isn’t as stressful as when you and Maria were getting divorced. But unlike now, then you still had a sense of humor.”

“I still have a sense of humor. If I wasn’t able to laugh at this stuff, I’d probably curl up in a little ball and mumble nonsense all day long.”

“Are you writing yet?”

“Nope.”

“Any ideas?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you should work naked and have Jed hold your clothes for you while you work.”

For the first time, Jeremy laughed. “Oh, that would work well. I’m sure Jed would just love that.”

“And the upside is, you know he wouldn’t tell anyone. Since he doesn’t talk, I mean.”

“No, he talks.”

“He does?”

“According to Lexie, he does. He just doesn’t talk to me or you.”

Alvin laughed. “You getting used to all the crazy animals in your room yet?”

Jeremy realized he barely noticed them anymore. “Believe it or not, I am.”

“I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“To be honest, neither do I.”

“Well, listen, I’ve got someone here, and I’m not being a good host, so I should let you go. Give me a call later this weekend. Or I’ll call you.”

“Sounds good,” Jeremy said, and a moment later he hung up the phone. Staring at the computer, he shook his head. Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Just as he was rising from his desk, the phone rang again. Expecting Alvin had forgotten to tell him something, he answered, “Yeah?”

“Hey, Jeremy,” Lexie said. “That’s a funny way to answer the phone.”

“Sorry. I just hung up with Alvin and thought he was calling back. What’s up?”

“I hate to do this to you, but I’m going to have to cancel our dinner tonight. Let’s do it tomorrow, okay?”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s Doris. We’re heading to her place, but she’s still upset and I should probably stay for a while.”

“Do you want me to come by? I can bring some dinner with me.”

“No, that’s okay. Doris has plenty of food, and to be honest, I don’t know if she’s in the mood to eat. But with her heart troubles, I’d just feel better if I made sure she was okay.”

“All right,” Jeremy said, “I understand.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad about this.”

“Really, it’s okay.”

“I promise to make it up to you, though. Tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even wear something skimpy while I cook dinner for you.”

Despite his disappointment, Jeremy kept his voice steady. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll give you a call later, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, “I know.”

Lexie was quiet on the other end, and it was only after hanging up that Jeremy realized he hadn’t said the words in return.

Does trust have to be earned? Or is it simply a matter of faith?

Hours later, Jeremy still wasn’t sure. No matter how many times he went over the questions, he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he stay at Greenleaf? Head to Lexie’s to wait for her? Or check to see if she was really at Doris’s?

That’s what it came down to, he thought. Was she really there? He supposed he could come up with some sort of plausible excuse and call Doris to find out, but wouldn’t that mean he didn’t trust her? And if so, why on earth were they getting married?

Because you love her, an inner voice answered.

And he did, he admitted, but alone in his quiet room at Greenleaf, he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not it was blind love. In the years he’d been married to Maria, he’d never once been suspicious of her whereabouts, even toward the end of their relationship. He’d never called over to her parents to check to see if she was really there, seldom called her at work, and only rarely popped in unexpectedly. She’d never given him a reason to question her about anything, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember even considering it. But what did that mean when it came to him and Lexie?

It seemed as if he had two views of her-one in which they spent time together and he chided himself for his paranoia; the other when they were apart and he allowed his imagination to run wild.

But it wasn’t completely wild now, was it? He had seen Lexie and Rodney holding hands. When asked directly what she’d done that day, she hadn’t mentioned even seeing him. He had received a strange e-mail, one from someone who’d taken great pains to hide who he or she was. And when Doris was talking about Rachel, Lexie’s only question had been whether or not Rodney seemed angry.

On the other hand, if she did have feelings for Rodney, why not just admit them? Why agree to marry Jeremy? Why buy a house and go shopping for the baby and spend almost every evening with Jeremy? Because of the baby? Lexie was traditional, Jeremy knew, but she didn’t have a 1950s mind-set. She’d lived with a boyfriend in New York, had a passionate fling with Mr. Renaissance . . . she wasn’t the type to throw away a life with the man she truly loved-assuming it was Rodney-for the sake of a baby. Which meant, of course, that she loved Jeremy, just as she’d told him on the phone. Just as she told him every time they were together. Just as she whispered when they were entwined in each other’s arms.

There was no reason not to believe her, he decided. None at all. She was his fiancée, and if she said she was at Doris’s, then that’s where she was. End of story, except for one thing: He somehow doubted she was there.

Outside, the sky had turned to black, and from his seat he could see the limbs of trees swaying gently in the breeze. New spring leaves covered the once barren branches, and they glowed silver in the light of the crescent moon.

He should stay here and wait for her call, he thought. They were getting married, and he trusted her. How many times since seeing Lexie and Rodney together had he checked on her, only to feel foolish when he spotted her car at the library? Half a dozen? A dozen? Why would tonight be any different?

It wouldn’t be, he told himself, even as he reached for his keys. Like a moth drawn to light, he seemed to have no other choice, and he continued to chide himself as he slipped out the door and crawled behind the wheel of his car.

The night was quiet and dark; downtown was deserted, and in the shadows, Herbs seemed oddly forbidding. He passed by without slowing and headed toward Doris’s, knowing that he’d find her there. When he saw Doris’s car parked in the driveway, he sighed, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. Until that instant, he’d forgotten that he’d simply left Lexie at Herbs without a car in which to get around, and he nearly laughed aloud.

Okay, he thought, that was settled, and he began making his way to Lexie’s, thinking he would wait for her there. When she got home, he’d be supportive and quiet, listen to her worries, and make her a cup of hot chocolate if she wanted one. He’d made way too much out of nothing.

Yet when he turned onto Lexie’s street and saw her house up the block, he found himself feeling instinctively for the brake pedal. Slowing the car and leaning nearer to the windshield, he blinked to make sure he was seeing things right, then suddenly squeezed the steering wheel hard.

Her car wasn’t in the drive, nor were the lights on. He slammed on the brakes and turned his car around, not caring about the screech that sounded from his tires. After gunning the engine and careening around the corner, he sped through town, knowing exactly where she was. If she was not at the library or Greenleaf, not at Doris’s or Herbs, there was only one place she could be.

And he was right, for when he pulled onto the street where Rodney Harper lived, he saw her car parked in the drive.