Blue Dahlia

when he squinted up at her, her head was haloed, her face shadowed.
    “I was just walking around. Heard your music.” She nodded toward the open windows where REM spilled out. “I saw them in concert once. Excellent. Pansies? They’re a hot item right now.”
    “Well, they like the cool.”
    “I know. How come you’re putting them here? You’ve got this vine thing happening.”
    “Clematis. Likes its roots shaded. So you ... you know, put annuals over them.”
    “Oh.” She squatted down for a closer look. “What color is the clematis?”
    “It’s purple.” He wasn’t sure pregnant women should squat. Didn’t it crowd things in there? “Ah, you want a chair or something?”
    “No, I’m set. I like your house.”
    “Yeah, me too.”
    “It’s sort of storybook here, with all the gardens. I mean, the big house is amazing. But it’s a little intimidating.” She grimaced. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
    “No, I get you.” It helped to keep planting. She didn’t smell pregnant. She smelled sexy. And that had to be wrong. “It’s a great place, and you couldn’t get my mother out of it with dynamite and wild mules. But it’s a lot of house.”
    “Took me a week to stop walking about on tiptoe and wanting to whisper. Can I plant one?”
    “You don’t have any gloves. I can get—”
    “Hell, I don’t mind a little dirt under my nails. A lady was in today? She said it’s like good luck for a pregnant woman to plant gardens. Something about fertility, I guess.”
    He didn’t want to think about fertility. There was something terrifying about it. “Go ahead.”
    “Thanks. I wanted to say ...” And it was easier with her hands busy. “Well, just that I know how it might look, me coming out of nowhere, landing on your mama’s doorstep. But I’m not going to take advantage of her. I don’t want you to think I’d try to do that.”
    “I’ve only known one person to manage it, and he didn’t manage it for long.”
    “The second husband.” She nodded as she patted the dirt around her plant. “I asked David about him so I wouldn’t say something stupid. He said how he’d stuck his hand in the till, and cheated on her with another woman.” She chose another pansy. “And when Roz got wind of it, she booted him out so hard and fast he didn’t land till he was halfway to Memphis. You gotta admire that, because you know even with a mad on, it had to hurt her feelings. Plus, it’s just embarrassing when somebody—oops.”
    She pressed a hand to her side, and had the blood draining out of Harper’s face.
    “What? What?”
    “Nothing. Baby’s moving around. Sometimes it gives me a jolt is all.”
    “You should stand up. You should sit down.”
    “Let me just finish this one. Back home, when I started to show? People, some people, just figured I’d got myself in trouble and the boy wouldn’t stand up for me. I mean, Jesus, are we in the twenty-first century or what? Anyway, that made me mad, but it was embarrassing, too. I guess that’s partly why I left. It’s hard being embarrassed all the damn time. There.” She patted the dirt. “They look really pretty.”
    He popped up to help her to her feet. “You want to sit for a minute? Want me to walk you back?”
    She patted her belly. “This makes you nervous.”
    “Looks like.”
    “Me too. But I’m fine. You’ll want to get the rest of those planted before it gets dark.” She looked down at the flowers again, at the house, at the gardens surrounding it, and those long, lake-colored eyes seemed to take in everything.
    Then they zeroed in on his face and made his throat go dry.
    “I really like your place. See you at work.”
    He stood, rooted, as she walked off, gliding along the path, around the curve of it, into the twilight.
    He was exhausted, he realized. Like he’d run some sort of crazed race. He’d just have that beer now, settle himself down. Then he’d finish with the pansies.
     
    WITH THE KIDS OUTSIDE TAKING PARKER FOR HIS after-dinner walk, Stella cleaned up the mess two boys and a dog could make in the kitchen over a pepperoni pizza.
    “Next pizza night, I buy,” Hayley said as she loaded glasses into the dishwasher.
    “That’s a deal.” Stella glanced over. “When I was carrying Luke, all I wanted was Italian. Pizza, spaghetti, manicotti. I was surprised he didn’t pop out singing ‘That’s Amore.’ ”
    “I don’t have any specific cravings. I’ll just eat anything.” In the