Chapter 50: The Name She Kept

Their son's first trip beyond White Pine required two blankets, six diapers, three heat packs, four bottles, and an argument about a screwdriver. "It's a compact screwdriver," Evan said. Qing held it between two fingers. "The child has no screws." "The stroller does." "The stroller survived assembly." "You put the left wheel on backward." "It turns." "Inward." Su sat under the nursery heater with the baby against her chest, her charcoal coat buttoned over the fused right arm. Three days after labor she could stand only with help, and below the knees her legs wanted to join whenever her attention slipped. "The screwdriver stays," she said. Qing dropped it into the bag. The baby slept through the ruling, one fist beneath his chin, the shed scale warm inside his mitten. Evan crouched to do up her top button. "Can I?" She nodded. Her pulse moved in his chest, slower than…