All Good People Here(27)

But then, in August, Krissy took a test and everything changed.

“So…” Billy said, and Krissy could hear the nerves fluttering in his voice. “How’re you feeling?” It was four days after she’d told him the news and they were sitting together on the bench by the pond, a full moon glowing above them. “Do you have any motion sickness?”

Krissy snapped her head to look at him. “You mean morning sickness.”

“Right. Yeah.”

She turned back to the pond and stared blankly into its dark water. “Billy, I don’t know what to do.”

“Do about what?”

She hesitated. The words she needed to say felt like stones in her mouth. “Money. I don’t know what to do about money.”

“Oh, that.” He sounded relieved. “Krissy—don’t worry about that. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She turned her head to look him full in the face. “Really?”

He hitched a shoulder. “Of course. I mean, maybe you could help out with the books or something—” She frowned. The books? But before she could say anything, he rushed to finish. “But you don’t have to, of course.” He let out a little laugh. “We’re gonna be fine. You can do whatever you wanna do.”

Her eyes held his, searching for that previous hint of hesitation. But he was smiling, broad and easy. She exhaled, her shoulders sagging, her head sinking into one of her hands. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “I just…I’ve been saving all summer but I don’t have enough. Not for this and for New York too.”

Next to her, Billy grew still, and when he spoke again, it sounded as if he were choosing his words very carefully. “Well, Kris, the only reason we’d have money is because of the farm.” Krissy blinked her eyes open, then slowly lifted her head from her hand. “I mean,” he said. “I know you wanted to go to New York, but I can’t leave. Not now anyway. But, Kris, I promise, if we stay here, I’ll take care of you. And we’ll go to New York someday. We’ll stay in a fancy hotel and see the Rockettes.”

“Billy,” she said after a moment. “What’re you talking about?”

“I— What’d you mean? I’m talking about our future. I just don’t want you to get all worked up about money right now. We’ll be fine. We’ll be okay.”

She shook her head. “Wait. Are you saying you wanna have this baby? You wanna—get married?”

Billy gave her a look. “Well…yeah. Kris, you—you’re pregnant.”

And then suddenly he was digging a hand into the pocket of his Levi’s and Krissy was watching, heart thumping hard in her chest. He stood from the bench, turned to face her, and knelt ceremoniously onto one knee. He lifted his hand and she saw a delicate ring pressed between his thick, calloused fingers. In the center of the gold band was one small, square diamond. Krissy had the sudden sensation of being trapped in a whirling tornado, too fast and strong for her to fight.

“Krissy Winter,” Billy said, swallowing thickly. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

In the moonlight, the diamond glinted, and Krissy stared down at it for a very long time. She knew the ring was a tether, forever binding her to this man she was just now realizing she hardly knew. But it was also a ticket to so much more. This ring could open up her world in ways she’d only ever imagined. It would mean, for the first time in her life, that she could stop worrying about money, that she could stop fighting so fucking hard for everything. It would mean, for the first time in her life, she might finally be able to exhale.

Just before she opened her mouth and said yes, Krissy made a silent promise. If Billy hadn’t understood that what she’d come here tonight for was money for an abortion, she wouldn’t tell him. Nor would she tell him the other thing. The cost of this marriage, she knew, would be keeping those secrets. She just hoped it would be worth it.



* * *



—

As Krissy followed Billy and Detective Lacks into their house, she thought back on that moment by the pond, the moment that changed everything. For seven years, she had kept that promise to herself, holding her secrets tight inside her. Now, the stakes were higher and she had so much more to hide.

She, Billy, and the detective moved through their home in a serpentine route, skirting around strangers photographing and labeling, bent over clipboards of notes and crouched by floorboards, their gloved hands efficient and meticulous. As their trio passed, each crime scene worker looked up then down, their expressions unnervingly blank, as if they’d been trained to pretend the inhabitants of the house were invisible. Krissy felt like a ghost.

They made their way into the kitchen, past those words, and up the stairs, Billy like an obedient dog at Lacks’s heels. When Krissy joined them at the top of the landing, she stole a glance at her husband’s face, but he avoided her eye. What was he thinking? she wondered. What was going on in his brain?

“Okay, you two,” Detective Lacks said. “Let’s do this quickly so we can get you out of here.” She glanced around the hall and open doorways, her eyes landing on a nearby officer who was sticking orange Post-it notes around January’s room. “Ah, Tommy. Could I get a hand?”

The uniformed officer, who was crouching at eye level with January’s vanity, turned his face to look at them. “Sure thing, Detective.” He stood and strode over.