“What about the apartment, Zach?” She unfolded her arms and seized the sides of her belly with both hands. “What about the baby? Our baby?”

“He’ll be born in Springdale, at the hospital.”

And grow up in this shit-hole? She shook her head, slowly at first as though still weighing her opinion. “I don’t know. I’m not ready for this. A week and a half ago — ”

“I hadn’t thought it through then. I have now. I want to make music, Court. I feel a connection to this place.” He patted the table, calling for her hand. “I want you to be here with me.”

Courtney picked at her fingernails. “I don’t know. This town is kind of freaky. Look, Zach…I stopped by one of those churches today, after the groceries. I just had a weird feeling.”

“Lay off the bible-belt references.”

“No, that’s just it.” She straightened in her chair. “The place was mostly empty. Pews knocked over. A real mess. Isn’t that weird?”

Zach shrugged and left the table for a glass of water.

Courtney took the hint. “What about musicians? Where’s your audience out here…the ladies quilting club?”

Zach took a long drink and returned to the table. “Kansas City is only a few hours drive. I can stay with Jerry or Rick on the weekends.”

She dissected him with her eyes, really studied his face. Even under the bright fluorescent light of the farm house kitchen, he looked pale. A little colorless, like them. Glancing at her own hand to be sure, Courtney stood, moved away from the table, and put physical space between her and Zach. “I’m going, Zach. With or without you. I’ll give you until the weekend — if you want to have a future with me, our baby.”

His head dropped. “Don’t do this Court.”

She roused again that night — the house too silent, waiting for something. Zach had been sleeping in a different room the last two nights — too crowded in the double bed, he had said, but she was still startled at finding herself alone.