"Some friends." Alex managed a smile. "I'm not alone."
Spreag leaned down and murmured close to her ear. "Never alone, my love.”
Alexandra had parkednear the summit of Hayden Butte, where ancient Hohokam petroglyphs shared space with modern radio towers. The juxtaposition seemed fitting--old magic meeting new world, past touching present. Like her life with Spreag.
The accordion of ultrasound photos lay stretched across the dashboard, memorized now, even though their baby was little more than a solid thumbprint inside the black void of her uterus. Neither of them had been ready to go home after the appointment, still in awe. So they'd driven here, to this quiet spot where desert met city, where once they'd come late into the night and ended up in the back seat.
Maybe it was time for a new spot.
As the sun began its descent, the valley spread out before them like a gathering of stars. One by one, lights winked on in office buildings and along Mill Avenue below. Students walked the paths around the base of the butte, unaware of the centuries of history etched in the rocks above them. How many love stories had played out on this mountain? How many prayers had been whispered to the sky?
She pulled the photos to her again to trace the outline of their miracle, their child. This was real. This was really going to happen.
Spreag sat beside her, no doubt trying to soak it in. He'd wanted this so badly, and after his death, she'd understood why. They'd been married just over a year, so it was time, he'd said, just before the trip to Scotland--when he'd known he wouldn't be coming back. No doubt he'd heard her railing at him for making the trip anyway, when he knew... But they hadn't had that conversation face to face yet. But they would.
Today wasn't the day to rip him a new one. Today was a happy day, wasn't it? At least, as happy as it could be.
It would be dark soon. It was always good to stop thinking when it got dark. But she couldn't. Not yet. There was one thing that had to be said, right here, right now. She couldn't pretend another minute.
She set the pictures aside, gripped the steering wheel, and cleared her throat to break the silence before it broke her. "Spreag?"
"Aye?" His voice carried that forced lightness she'd come to recognize. He was still tiptoeing, worried she'd fall apart all over again.
"I know you heard her too. Lorraine or Loretta, I forget which."
"Heard what, love?"
"She said, 'TheSight runs strong in Spreag's line, and now it's giving you a connection to the spirit world.Temporarily.You remember that?"
"Aye. I remember. And it was Loretta."
She rolled her eyes. It didn't matter which sister said it. "And now we have a due date. June 3. When our baby is born, she thinks I won't be able to see you anymore."
He nodded. "Aye."
"Aye? What does that mean? That yes, that's what she was implying or that you believe the same thing?"
His silence was answer enough.
She looked at him. The movement sent fresh tears spilling. He was so clear, so present, exactly as she remembered him. The same man who'd well and truly won her heart, had swept her off her feet, and had loved her with an intensity that should be spoken of in history books.
"I keep thinking about our wedding night," she said, watching the last rays of sunlight paint the sky purple and pink. "How nothing seemed impossible then."
"Alexandra, listen to me. Ye have a full life ahead of ye. Nothing is impossible...for ye, and for our bairn."
She didn't want to hear that, so she leaned forward to look up at the stars, each one a wish she needn't waste. Their child would be born in June, the start of summer. Would she really lose him all over again?
"Nae point of fashin', woman. We'll take one day at a time for the now. Our love will see us through this. I can see--" He stopped short, which got her attention.
"You can see? What can you see?"
He shrugged. "I can see enough to assure ye just that--that our love will see us through this. Can ye trust me?"
"I don't know." She faced forward again and squeezed the steering wheel even harder, knowing she had just caused him pain, which made her hate herself. "Are you telling me you can see our future? I thought you were never able to see your own."
He huffed. "Aye, that would still be true if...if I still had a future."
She winced, and all she could eek out was a whisper. "So you can seemyfuture, and I'm without you?" Her head was already shaking.