“She has.”
“I’d like to examine her.”
“No.”
Dr. Venn looked surprised.
Nolan rarely spoke with force.
When he did, rooms listened.
“Nolan, I understand you’re angry—”
“You told me she would probably die before morning.”
“I told you her condition was grave.”
“You told me to pray.”
“A physician is not God.”
Maribel said quietly, “No. But a physician should attempt medicine before theology.”
Dr. Venn looked at her.
Something unreadable passed through his face.
“I did everything available.”
“Did you?”
The doctor’s eyes sharpened.
Maribel had no evidence.
Only anger.
She had watched him shrug over Matthew’s tiny body.
Watched him dismiss Grace.
Watched him leave women to grieve and men to dig graves.
Dr. Venn reached for his hat.
“Very well. But the child should be examined eventually.”
Nolan stepped closer.
“Not by you.”
The doctor’s composure cracked.
“Your wife trusted me.”
Nolan became perfectly still.
Maribel saw it.
A flicker of something deeper than grief.
“What did you say?”
Dr. Venn swallowed.
“Evelyn trusted my care.”
Nolan’s voice dropped.
“My wife begged you for help for fourteen hours.”
“And childbirth is dangerous.”
“She screamed that something was wrong.”
“Nolan—”
“You told her fear was making her hysterical.”
Dr. Venn glanced toward Maribel.
Then back.
“You were exhausted. Your memory—”
“My memory is the only thing I have left of her.”
Grace began crying.
Nolan immediately stepped back, anger dissolving into concern.
Maribel reached for the baby.
Dr. Venn watched Grace settle in her arms.
His face changed.
Only briefly.
But Maribel noticed.
He looked afraid.
That night, Nolan did not leave after Grace ate.
Snow was falling again.
Not violently, but steadily, dusting the streets silver beneath moonlight.
Grace slept in a basket padded with clean towels near the oven.
Nolan sat at the table.
Maribel poured coffee.
“You frightened him,” she said.
“He deserves worse.”
“You think he caused Evelyn’s death?”
Nolan stared at his hands.
“For months, she said she didn’t trust him.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
Maribel sat across from him.
“Did she trust you?”
The question hurt him.
She saw it immediately.
“Yes.”
“Then why wouldn’t she tell you?”
Nolan looked toward Grace.
“I’ve asked myself that every night.”
He rubbed one hand over his face.
“Evelyn changed during the pregnancy. Started locking drawers. Hid letters. Rode into town alone when she’d always preferred company.”
“Were you worried she was…”
“With someone else?”
Maribel remained silent.
He gave a bitter laugh.
“For a while.”
“Were you wrong?”
“I believe so.”
“You believe?”
Nolan’s jaw worked.
“One night I asked her.”
“What did she say?”
“She cried.”
Maribel waited.
“She said, ‘You’ll understand after the baby comes.’”
The oven popped softly.
Maribel felt a chill unrelated to winter.
“What did she mean?”
“I never found out.”
“Did she leave anything?”
“Nothing I found.”
Grace stirred.
Nolan immediately stood, but she settled again.
Maribel watched him.
This supposedly terrifying man could hear his child breathe from across the room.
She understood something then.
Whatever secrets Evelyn Pierce had kept, Nolan’s love for his daughter was not one of them.
He sat again.
“What about Elias?” he asked.
