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she could still be surprised. The worst violence, the most awful forms of depravity, always happened in a so-called loving relationship.

At least that made it easier for her to count her blessings. Whatever faults Tres had - however much he tortured himself with guilt or wrestled with his own demons - he was kind. He was a good man. He'd make a good father, Maia had no doubt, whatever happened with the baby. She depended on that. She counted on him so much it scared her. And she tried to tell herself Tres would be safe. They would make it through this weekend.

The storm rumbled overhead like an endless train. Noises from the other rooms eventually died down. Lane closed her eyes and began breathing deeply. Garrett stayed at his post at the foot of her bed, his hand protectively on her ankle.

Maia studied Garrett's face, looking for similarities to Tres. The hawkish nose and green eyes were the same. Garrett hid his chin behind a scraggly beard, but she imagined it was the same as Tres's - a strong jawline, hinting at stubbornness. Time had not been as kind to Garrett, though. He was the same age as Maia. She remembered they had talked about that when they first met, how both of them were just turning forty. His complexion had turned sallow from too many years of hard drinking. His eyes were constantly bloodshot. His hair was frosted with gray. But he was still handsome in an unkempt way. He looked at her and smiled, and Maia couldn't help feeling a little better.

"You doing all right, darlin'?" he asked.

"Worried about Tres."

"Ah, hell. He'll be fine. That bastard will drive you crazy if you keep worrying about him."

"You have a point."

"I've known him longer, darlin'. I just hope that baby gets some of your good looks."

"He'll be beautiful, I'm sure."

"He?"

"The last few days, I've started to think of the baby as a he."

"A nephew to corrupt. I could handle that. Uncle Garrett..."

Maia pictured Garrett with a baby in his lap, the two of them taking joy rides in the wheelchair. The baby would be wearing a tie-dyed jumper, a miniature Jimmy Buffett hat. "Did you ever think about getting married?"

He glanced down at Lane. "I'm not exactly an attractive package, in case you hadn't noticed. Kind of an extreme fixer-upper."

"Don't sell yourself short."

"You're telling this to a man without legs?"

"You know I didn't mean it that way."

Footsteps in the hall. Maia hoped it was Tres coming back, but it was only Mr. Lindy and the college boy Ty. Ty was clutching his stomach as if he were sick, and Mr. Lindy was helping him walk. They didn't look inside the room as they passed.

"Maia, you're lucky," Garrett told her at last. "You and Tres. You stuck with it."

"It wasn't easy," Maia promised.

"I used to think there was a perfect match out there for everybody, you know? Alex told me that. Older I get, I realize there's just matches you make work, and matches you give up on. Ain't nothing perfect about it."

"You'll find the right person, Garrett."

He scratched his beard. "That's not what worries me. Question is, will the right person stick around?"

In the dim light, the lines on his face seemed deeply etched. His hair looked even more gray than usual. He gazed down at Lane Sanford as she slept, as if trying to memorize her face.

Maia felt the baby kick. She put her hand against her belly.

A boy, she thought. And though she had never been religious, she prayed: Please, let him be healthy.

"Why don't you get some sleep, darlin'?" Garrett told her. "I'll wake you if anything happens."

She wanted to stay up. She wanted to wait for Tres to return safely. But her eyelids were as heavy as lead. She closed them and drifted off, imagining Tres holding the hand of the baby as he took his first step away from her.

Chapter 27

"Tell me," I said.

Jose took his eyes from the broken window. "Senor?"

"You didn't want me to come in here. What happened to Alex?"

He shook his head, no longer evasive. Just bewildered. "I don't know."

A shard of glass shook loose from the window frame. It flew past us, embedding itself in the wall.

"Senor, we must leave," Imelda said. "Senor - "

I pushed toward the window, screening my face with my hands. The dark shape of the lighthouse loomed through the horizontal rain. The ocean churned below, waves surging against the side of the house.