The sun slanted through the narrow cottage window onto Chris’s face. He rolled over and groaned. What was he doing here on Jersey, milking cows? Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?
As he pulled on his pants and staggered out to the barn, he remembered Emily and the fun they had had together, robbing banks. But the fun had quickly leached out when they went on the lam and she got pregnant.
He had ended up here when some very scary people had come looking for them and tried to kill him. They had been very angry when Emily wasn’t home. He chuckled, causing the cow he was milking to turn her head inquisitively, remembering slipping out the bathroom window as they yelled in the front room. Belatedly, he wondered why they had wanted Emily. Was she alright? Was their baby alright? He didn’t think it was time for the baby yet, but perhaps it had come early.
By the time the milking was done, the milk truck had come and gone, and he had cleaned everything up in readiness for the evening, he had just about decided to catch the afternoon ferry and go look for Emily in England.
Harry down the road could do the milking awhile, and what if his life was at risk? He should be a man and go find Emily. He would go after lunch. But as he slid a pan onto the stove to heat up some lunch, there was a knock on the door. He answered it nervously. There stood a very pregnant Emily and a woman he didn’t recognize, though she looked awfully like an older version of Emily.
“Hello, Chris,” Emily said with a slow smile. “I found you.”