Louise sat back, but I saw her frown reflected in the window. She had Mark’s sense of fairness, which usually appeared just before she said something dangerous.
I gave her a warning look.
She opened her tablet without another word.
Louise waved through the gap between the seats.
The plane pushed back from the gate, and Noah startled at the sudden vibration. I braced for the cry Evelyn clearly expected, but he only blinked, curled one fist around my finger, and settled again.
Louise waved through the gap between the seats. I waved back, grateful for the small reassurance. Evelyn opened a magazine with a sharp snap and angled it between us like a wall.
Every few minutes, she checked Noah over the top edge. I could not tell whether she feared he might wake or resented that he had not yet proved her right. Either way, I waited.
I rocked him, offered his pacifier, checked his diaper, and whispered the song Mark used to sing off-key.
For most of the first two hours, Noah slept. I watched the clouds and tried not to picture Mark’s empty hospital bed.
Then Noah woke crying.
