PART 1 — The Back Door

The gravy boat slipped from my fingers, leaving a dark brown smear across my mother-in-law’s white tablecloth.

A cold wetness was blooming through the yellow cotton of my skirt, spreading outward from the center of my lap.

Maeve set her fork down with a sharp click against her china plate.

She looked at the stain, not my face.

“Sarah, you will ruin the chair cushions.”

She brushed at her stiff linen sleeve.

Her eyes remained on the yellow fabric.

“David, take your wife out of this room.”

My husband of three years pulled at his collar.

Under the chandelier, his skin looked gray.

“It is probably nothing, Mother.

Just a little spot.”

I turned my silver wedding ring around my finger until the skin beneath it hurt.

My lower back had been aching throughout dinner.

Now the ache was constant, and I could not find a comfortable way to sit.

“I need to go to the clinic.”

Maeve stood, her chair scraping the hardwood.