John Saul - Nathaniel

"Almost," Janet conceded. "But what about my feelings? Don't my feelings count?" she added, then wished she hadn't.

"Your feelings?" Anna asked. "What do you mean? Do you mean you don't want the baby?"

Janet shook her head. "That's not it at all, Anna. It just seems like-" She stopped short, suddenly realizing she didn't have the slightest idea of how she felt about anything. All she felt was confused. If only she could talk to Mark… But she couldn't, not ever again. And, she remembered with a shudder, the Mark she had thought she'd known was a different man from the one she was discovering since she'd arrived in Prairie Bend. She appealed to Amos. "Would you mind if I walked home?" she asked. "I really think I need to walk a bit. I need to get used to things. There's so much to sort out."

Amos frowned. "Are you sure? I'm not sure how much exercise-"

Janet put up a protesting hand, and made herself smile with a confidence she wasn't feeling. "Times have changed, Amos. And I really do need to be by myself, just for a little while." Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and stepped out of Dr. Potter's office into the bright noontime sun. She glanced around, orienting herself, and then set out for the center of the village.

Prairie Bend, she realized, was truly no more than a village, and it seemed, as she walked the single block from Potter's house to the main street, oddly familiar. It wasn't until she'd walked a bit further, though, that she realized just what it was about the town that she recognized. It was like the country village of her dreams, the picturesque town she'd imagined whenever she'd envisioned the peaceful little farm that would someday be hers.

Prairie Bend was more than a century old, but it appeared that it had reached its full size shortly after it had been founded.

It had been carefully planned in the shape of a half wheel, with four spokelike streets radiating out from the square at the hub, and three more streets, each of them paralleling the curve of the river, sweeping around those spokes. The lots had been carefully laid out, with obvious foresight, but then, apparently, the planned-for, population had never materialized, for most of the lots were still empty, though none of them was uncared for, and the wide green lawns, bordered by trees and occasional gardens, created a parklike, spacious feeling.

Nowhere was there a building that looked new, yet nowhere was there a building that was in disrepair. The village was small: a general store, the post office, a drugstore which did double duty as the only cafe in town, two gas stations-one of which had a garage-a tiny school, and the church. All of it neatly arranged around the little square, all of it shaded by immense old trees, and all of it cradled in the bend of the river.

Janet paused in the square and tried to reconcile what she was seeing with what Mark had told her about Prairie Bend. But slowly, she began to realize that he had never said much about it at all-only that he hoped never to see it again.

But why?

There was nothing threatening about it, nothing out of the ordinary, really, except for its loveliness.

Then what was it that Mark had hated so much?

And why had Prairie Bend never grown?

Why had a place so lovely stayed so small?

She didn't know, and she probably never would know.

Unless she stayed.

It was the first time she'd let herself fully face the idea that had been niggling at her mind all morning, but now, in the quiet and peace of the spring noontime, she began examining the idea, making a mental ledger of its advantages and disadvantages.

She had family, albeit in-laws, in Prairie Bend; none in New York.

She had little money in either place, and nothing much in the way of professional skills.

She would be able to keep her apartment in New York for the moment, but only for the moment. Eventually, she would have to find a cheaper place to live.

In Prairie Bend, she owned a farm.

Mark had hated Prairie Bend, but had never told her why. Perhaps there had been no reason, or at least no good reason.

She thought about her in-laws. Good people, kind people, who wanted to take care of her. But why? Who was she but the widow of the son who had rejected them? Why should they care about her?

Yet, even as she asked herself the question, she was sure she knew the answer. They cared about her because they were warm and loving people who didn't hold their son's actions against her or her child. No-they wanted her, and they wanted Michael. And for a while, at least, she wanted to rest in the refuge of Prairie Bend and the love of Mark's parents.

As she left the square and passed through the rest of the village, then started out toward the Halls', she knew her mind was made up.

Forty minutes later she walked into Anna Hall's kitchen and sat down at the table. Her mother-in-law glanced disapprovingly up from the cake batter she was stirring, then away.

"Did you get your thinking done?" she asked in a voice that implied a sure knowledge of the outcome of that thinking.

"Yes, I did," Janet said quietly. "I'm going to keep my baby, and I'm going to keep my farm. Michael and I are going to live here."

Anna Hall put down the spoon, then held her arms out to Janet, who slipped willingly into her embrace.

"If that's what you want," Anna whispered. "If you're sure that's what you want, then you're welcome here. More than welcome. But I warn you," she suddenly added. "Once you become a part of Prairie Bend, you'll never be able to leave."

A shiver passed through Janet, but a moment later she had forgotten it.

"We're not going home at all?" Michael's voice clearly reflected his bewilderment. "But why?"

He was sitting with his mother in Anna Hall's rarely used living room, and while Janet perched nervously on the edge of a sofa, Michael himself rocked furiously on a bentwood chair.

"Lots of reasons, darling," Janet replied, forcing herself to meet Michael's angry eyes. "For one thing, we have a home here-a place to live that's all our own. Wouldn't you rather live in a house than an apartment?"

"I don't know," Michael answered, too promptly. "Dad never wanted to live on a farm. I bet if Dad were here, we'd be back home."

"I know," Janet sighed. "If your father were here everything would be the way it always was, but he isn't here, and everything has changed. I know it's hard, and it's going to get harder, honey. Now it's up to me to figure out what's best for us, and I think it's best that we stay here."

"But why ?"

"For one thing, we don't have much money, and living in New York is very expensive."

"Why don't you get a job?" Michael asked with the serene innocence of his years.

"I might be able to," Janet agreed. "But it wouldn't be much of a job. And what would you do? I can't leave you by yourself every day, and we'd never be able to afford someone to come in."

"I can take care of myself," Michael replied. "I'm not a baby anymore."

Janet smiled at her son. "Of course you aren't. And if we weren't living in New York, I wouldn't worry at all. But in the city I'd worry about you all day, every day. Besides, right now, I don't think I could get any kind of a job at all."

Michael stared at her, and suddenly stopped rocking. "Why not?" he asked, the sullenness in his eyes fading slightly.

"Well," Janet said, "it seems our family is going to get a little larger."

There was a silence, and then Michael realized what she was saying. "You mean you're going to have a baby?"

Janet nodded. "So you see, I'd have to leave whatever job I got in a few months. And most people wouldn't hire me to begin with, right now."

"Why tell them?" Michael asked. "You don't look pregnant."