“Better.” It was all she could let him hear.“Good. Hungry?”She thought about that too. She was hungry. In fact, she was starving.“I could ea... something.” It was all she could admit to him.“You want syrup or jam? We have some peanut butter too.”“Peanut butter on pancakes?” She was astonished.“Several of my sisters won’t eat pancakes without it,” he said. “There’s no accounting for taste.”“Syrup is fine,” she said. It occurred to her that she was having trouble staying outraged.He went through. " I'll come to Union Station next Saturday and see you off." You don't have to," she said quietly. "You sure?" I'll be there," I said, winking -- not knowing if I were really up to it, but letting her think I believed I was.She winked back. Unsmiling, she stepped on the gas. She and the car raced down the street and grew smaller. I stood on the curb and watched, wondering what the hell I was going to do.Of all the weeks Martha and I had spent apart, that week of waiting for her departure was. More

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