Chapter 1 - THE TRENCH
The cold mud squeezed my hips so tightly that I could no longer feel my left foot.
Ryan stood above me laughing.
Not loudly.
That was worse.
There was no wildness in his face.
No drunken rage.
No stranger I could tell myself had temporarily replaced my husband.
He looked like Ryan.
Gray sweatshirt.
Work boots.
Mud on one knee.
The man I had slept beside for nine years.
The father of the baby inside me.
He held a wooden garden stake in his right hand.
“You thought you could leave me before the baby was born?”
I pressed one hand against my bare belly.
My sweater had ridden up when he forced me backward into the trench.
Cold rain dotted my skin.
“Ryan.”
“What?”
“Please let me out.”
“Now you want me to help you.”
“My legs are numb.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you packed.”
I looked toward the back gate.
Closed.
Beyond it:
Houses.
Cars.
People.
Normal Saturday afternoon.
Nobody could see behind the six-foot cedar fence.
The sky had gone steel gray.
Rain collected along the tomato leaves behind Ryan.
I had planted those tomatoes in April.
I stared at them because looking at something ordinary helped me breathe.
My phone was hidden inside the blue ceramic flowerpot beside the patio chair.
Recording.
I had started it before following Ryan outside.
That had been twenty-three minutes ago.
Maybe twenty-four.
I could not reach it.
Ryan did not know it existed.
I needed him to keep not knowing.
“What do you want?” I asked.
His jaw tightened.
“You know.”
“I don’t.”
“The paperwork.”
“I’m not signing it.”
His expression changed.
There.
That was the real argument.
Not leaving.
Not the baby.
Paper.
“You don’t get to destroy everything I built because you got emotional.”
“I’m not emotional.”
“You packed a suitcase.”
“Yes.”
“You called a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“You went through my office.”
“I opened a bank letter addressed to both of us.”
“You had no right.”
“My name was on it.”
Ryan lifted the stake.
I stopped talking.
He brought it down.
Not onto me.
Into the dirt beside my right hip.
The impact sprayed mud across my face.
I flinched so violently pain pulled across my lower abdomen.
Ryan smiled.
“See?”
His voice softened.
“This is what happens when you keep pushing.”
My breath shook.
The baby moved.
One small roll beneath my palm.
Thank God.
“Ryan, the baby.”
“You always use him.”
My heart stopped.
“We don’t know it’s a boy.”
“You do.”
“What?”
He looked away.
Tiny mistake.
I noticed.
Then he said:
“Figure of speech.”
No.
We had refused to learn the sex.
Or I had.
Had Ryan?
Question later.
Survive now.
My right sneaker pressed against something hard beneath the mud.
Metal.
I moved my toes.
Pain.
Then recognized the shape.
The splitter valve.
Two months earlier, Ryan installed a second hose line for the vegetable beds.
The splitter sat low near the trench because the main spigot was behind the retaining board.
He had dug around it.
Then covered part with soil.
My shoe rested against one lever.
If I could open it—
Water.
Mud.
Looser soil.
Maybe.
Ryan paced toward the patio.
“You’re going to come inside.”
I moved my foot.
Slowly.
“And then?”
“You’re going to shower.”
My sneaker slid.
“And then?”
“We call your sister.”
My heart kicked.
“What do we tell her?”
“That you overreacted.”
I pushed harder.
The metal lever resisted.
“She knows I was leaving.”
“Then you tell her you changed your mind.”
“No.”
Ryan turned.
“What?”
I smiled.
A terrible idea.
But I needed his attention on my face, not my foot.
“I said no.”
He walked toward me.
My shoe pushed again.
Click.
For one second, nothing.
Then water hissed.
Ryan looked toward the hose.
I froze.
A spray erupted from the soil near my ankle.
He laughed.
“You broke the line.”
I almost laughed too.
He thought it was an accident.
Water rushed into the trench.
Cold beyond description.
It soaked the compressed dirt surrounding my calves.
The mud began to move.
I twisted my left foot.
Pain returned as pins and knives.
Good.
Pain meant circulation.
Ryan shook his head.
“You can’t do anything right.”
The soil softened.
I pulled one knee.
Nothing.
Again.
The mud released with a wet sucking sound.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
He finally understood.
I jerked upward.
My left knee came free.
“Stop.”
I twisted sideways.
He swung.
The stake slammed into the ditch beside my stomach.
Mud exploded over my chest.
I screamed.
Ryan’s boots slipped.
He reached for my shoulder.
I clawed forward.
One hand.
Then the other.
My belly dragged against wet soil.
Pain tightened across it.
Sudden.
Hard.
Different from normal pregnancy pressure.
The back gate opened.
“Rachel?”
Ben Carter stood there.
Our neighbor.
Forty-something.
Red rain jacket.
Phone in hand.
He stared.
Ryan straightened instantly.
“Ben.”
“What the hell?”
“Call 911!”
My voice tore out of me.
Ryan stepped between us.
Then the transformation happened.
His shoulders lowered.
His voice softened.
“She fell.”
Ben stared.
“What?”
“She was gardening and slipped into the drainage trench.”
I tried to crawl.
My right leg remained trapped.
Ryan continued:
“She’s pregnant and confused.”
Ben held his phone higher.
Recording.
Good.
I pointed toward the blue flowerpot.
“My phone.”
Ryan looked at me.
I saw realization arrive before he controlled his face.
“It’s recording.”
Ben moved.
Ryan stepped toward him.
“Don’t touch my property.”
Ben backed toward the gate.
“What property?”
“The phone.”
“It’s hers.”
“Ben.”
The warning entered Ryan’s voice.
Ben reached the flowerpot first.
He lifted my phone.
Screen still lit.
Recording timer:
00:26:41.
Ryan froze.
“She’s making things up.”
Ben tapped the speaker.
Ryan moved.
Ben stepped outside the gate.
Then pressed play.
Wind.
My breathing.
Ryan’s voice.
Clear.
“I’ll bury you if you’re going to leave before we fix this.”
The color drained from his face.
Then another contraction seized me.
No.
Not contraction.
Pain.
Sharper.
Low across my abdomen and into my back.
I gasped.
Both hands went to my belly.
“Rachel?”
Ben’s voice.
I waited.
The baby always moved when I pressed my palm low on the right side.
Nothing.
I pushed gently.
Nothing.
“Come on.”
Ryan stared.
“Rachel?”
“Shut up.”
I pressed again.
“Baby.”
Nothing.
The garden tilted.
Ben was talking to 911.
Ryan was saying my name.
May you like
I heard sirens somewhere far beyond the fence.
And beneath all that noise, inside me, there was only silence.
