I arrived sore, exhausted, and embarrassed by how much help I needed getting out of the car.

Richard waited without touching me until I asked for his arm.

Inside, the house smelled of cedar and fresh bread.

I had visited as a child, but I could not remember the last time I had spent a night there.

The first week passed in short intervals measured by medication, feeds, and the careful movement of my injured body.

Beatrice kept a notebook of Noah’s bottles and diaper changes.

Richard drove me to appointments.