Lawrence Block - Hit and Run

“No one ever said it better.”

“More likely to take up philately if his father introduced him to it.”

“‘Billy, I’d like you to meet Philately. Philately, this is Billy.’”

“Don’t you think that would make a difference?”

“I suppose it might. I didn’t have a father around the house.”

“I know.”

“But if I had, and if he collected stamps… but, see, I got there on my own.”

“So it’s hard to say what might have happened, because it happened anyway.”

“Right.”

“Well,” she said, “maybe you’ll get to find out.”

He looked at her.

“Maybe it’ll be a boy,” she said, “and you can teach him all about stamps. And where Griqualand West is, and useful stuff like that. Not right away, I suppose you have to wait until he can walk and talk, but eventually.”

He said, “Did you tell me something earlier, and I wasn’t paying attention?”

“No.”

“But you’re telling me something now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we’re going to have a boy?”

“Not necessarily. I’d say it’s about fifty-fifty. I haven’t gone for the ultrasound yet. Do you think I should? I always used to think I’d rather wait, but just about everybody finds out ahead of time nowadays, and maybe it’s just goofy not to. What do you think?”

“I think I’d like some more coffee,” he said, and went to refill his cup. He brought it back to the table and said, “There was something you were going to say before I left for Des Moines, and then you decided it would keep. Was that it?”

“Uh-huh. And I was right, it kept.”

“I might not have gone.”

“That’s one reason I decided it would keep.”

“Because you wanted me to go?”

“Because I didn’t want to stop you from going.”

He thought that over, then nodded. “That’s one reason. What’s the other?”

“I didn’t know how you’d feel.”

“How could you? I’m not sure how I feel myself. Excited, of course, and happy, but—”

“Really? Excited and happy?”

“Sure. How did you think I’d feel?”

“Well, that’s just it. I didn’t know. I was afraid you might want me to, you know.”

“To what?”

“To do something. You know.”

“You mean like an abortion?”

“And I knew I didn’t want to do that.”

“I should hope not,” he said.

“But I was afraid you might want me to.”

“No.”

“It might be a girl,” she said. “Can girls collect stamps?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said. “They’ve probably got more time for it, because they spend so much less of it at Internet porn sites. You know, this is a lot to take in.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to be a father.”

“A daddy.”

“God. We’re going to be a family. I never thought, well, I had no idea it was an option. Even if it was, I never dreamed it was something I would want.”

“But it is?”

“Yes. We’ll have to get married. Sooner rather than later, don’t you think?”

“That’s not something we absolutely have to do, you know.”

“Yes it is. I was thinking we ought to do it anyway, I was thinking that during the drive back from Albany.”

“And bringing your stamps into the motel room each night.”

“It does sound silly, looking back on it, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Stand up, will you?”

She got to her feet and he took her in his arms and kissed her. “I never thought any of this would happen,” he said. “I thought my life was over. And it was, and I got a whole new one in its place.”

“And you have medium brown hair.”

“Mouse brown.”

“And you wear glasses.”

“Bifocals, and I have to tell you, I can see the improvement when I work on my stamps.”

“Well,” she said, “that’s important.”

The author is grateful to Rita Olmo and Beatriz Aprigliano-Ziegler of Fairchild House, whose gracious New Orleans hospitality aided and abetted the writing of this book.

LAWRENCE BLOCK is one of the most widely recognized names in the mystery genre. He has been named a Grand Master of the Mystery Writers of America and is a four-time winner of the prestigious Edgar and Shamus awards, as well as a recipient of prizes in France, Germany, and Japan. He received the Diamond Dagger from the British Crime Writers’ Association, only the third American to be given this award. He is a prolific author, having written more than fifty books and numerous short stories, and is a devoted New Yorker and an enthusiastic global traveler.

www.lawrenceblock.com