Eleven Hours (34 page)

Pointing at Rich, Didi said, “He's guilty. His dad's very red.”

“Oh, so adorable.”

The other woman, who had been standing quietly beside her friend, moved forward and said to Didi, “I'm pregnant myself. Thirteen weeks. My first. Scared to death. The whole labor thing.” Lowering her voice, she asked, “How was it for you?”

Didi said, adjusting her sunglasses, “Oh, it wasn't bad.” She paused. “Not bad at all.”

The woman looked at her and said, “You got a bit of a sore throat, huh? Losing your voice?”

“Yeah,” Didi said. “It's coming back though. You should have heard me last week.”

Rich put his hand on Didi's back.

“Where'd you have your baby? I'm having mine at the Columbia Medical Center in Plano.”

Nodding, Didi said, “That's a good hospital. I—I didn't have mine locally.”

The pregnant young woman peered closer at Didi's son and said, “Hey, what happened to his arm? Is that a bandage?”

“Yeah,” said Didi, reaching down to adjust the receiving blanket to cover her boy up to his neck. “He—I fell and he broke his arm when he was still
in utero.
”

The women looked horrified.

“He'll be okay,” Didi said. “Really.”

“Come on, honey,” Rich interrupted. “Let's go.”

“Okay,” Didi said, raising her hand in a wave to the two women. “Good luck,” she said.

“Yeah, thanks,” muttered the pregnant woman. “Good luck to
you.
” The women sped up and passed them.

Rich and Didi slowly followed the girls. Didi was limping. “Girls, come back,” she said hoarsely in a low voice, but they didn't hear her.

“Amanda, Irene! Listen to your mother! Don't go so far out!” Rich yelled.

The girls slowed down.

Rich asked, “Are you okay, honey? You want to go back home?”

“No, I'm okay,” Didi said, taking off her glasses. The seven stitches over the left eyebrow had been removed last week and the dark, ragged wound was healing. The black-and-blue marks around her eyes were now turning yellow. The broken nose was still swollen and misshapen.

Rich said, “Women. They just want to know everything, don't they?”

“They mean well,” Didi said. “And they don't know.”

“I guess. I wish they would just keep going.”

Didi took Rich's arm as he pushed the stroller. “Richie, people mean well. They're trying to be nice. It's okay.”

“Yeah, but those questions, those questions. How do you do it?”

“It's easy,” she said, smiling at him and putting her glasses back on as she saw a man and a woman with a stroller approaching them. “Watch.”

They stopped again, and Didi and the other woman oohed and aahed over each other's baby. When was he born? July 13? Wasn't that the hottest day in seventy years? Yes, said Didi. It was. Oh, look how cute. How big was he? Was the labor terrible? Oh, mine was the pits, said the other woman. Mine wasn't too bad, said Didi.

Rich stood silently, with his arm around his wife.

The baby woke up and Didi carefully took him out of his stroller. Rich offered to carry him, but Didi said, “No, that's okay. I'll carry him.” He remained in her arms for the rest of the walk.

ST. MARTIN'S PAPERBACKS TITLES
BY
P
AULLINA
S
IMONS

 

Tully

Red Leaves

Eleven Hours

EXTRAORDINARY ACCLAIM FOR PAULLINA SIMONS

Eleven Hours

“ELEVEN HOURS reminded me of Steven Spielberg's
Duel
—a story with minimalist style and a powerful scare.”

—Martin Cruz Smith, author of
Gorky Park

“Simons does a wonderful job pulling you into the story … it's a ticking time bomb!”

—Adrianne Lee, author of
Little Girl Lost
and
Night Terror

Red Leaves

“A haunting page-turner.”

—
Los Angeles Times

“Suspenseful. Creates mystery from the ordinary, protected lives of Ivy League kids, slowly peeling away their deceptions to reveal denial, cowardice, and chilling indifference. Engrossing.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Simons's characterizations are excellent, and she quickly draws the reader deeply into the nuances of the story. Highly recommended.”

—
Library Journal

“A wonderful mystery–suspense story with marvelous twists and turns that keep you guessing—and turning pages—right to the very end.”

—
Detroit Free Press

Tully

“Reads fast, like a sudden surge of wind over the plains, and the book's momentum builds to tornado force.”

—
USA Today

“What a lovely and resonant evocation of that first great bond between women—it's deeply moving.”

—Anne Rivers Siddons

“An impressive and enviable first novel … Powerful and telling … There is a reader involvement that almost becomes a compulsion.”

—
Richmond Times-Dispatch

“Complex, diverse, multi-faceted … Lush in emotion and rich in detail.”

—
Denver Post

“Beautifully written … Hard to put down … Highly recommended.”

—
Library Journal

“An extraordinary and massive novel … Simons piques your curiosity with delicate finesse at every turn … Impressive … Remarkable … Truly exciting … One hopes we will see other books by Paullina Simons.”

—
Bookpage

PAULLINA SIMONS
is the author of the acclaimed novels
Tully
and
Red Leaves,
both published by St. Martin's Paperbacks. Born and raised in St. Petersburg, Russia, she graduated from Kansas University in Lawrence, Kansas, and has lived in Rome, London, and New York. She currently lives in Dallas, Texas, with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is [email protected].

ELEVEN HOURS

Copyright © 1998 by Paullina Simons.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 98-10203

ISBN: 0-312-96700-4

St. Martin's Press hardcover edition / June 1998

St. Martin's Paperbacks edition / October 1999

St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

eISBN 9781466851498

First eBook edition: July 2013