Suzanna’s crouching over the dirt with the baby pinned beneath her. Jelly yanks at her shoulder, clawing his way to her elbow, grabbing it, twisting. I think I see the baby drop.

No Baby

 , , , I should have known why he was running up the trail. Just yesterday, he’d rescued a snot-eyed kitten from a ditch. He’d made miso soup for a fellow apostle with a cold. But we’d already wasted five minutes, at least. Our clothes were still on.

I Don't Know How to Love Him

He tells Jane his ghost stories in the tunnels under the Lighthouse Inn, with his hands between her thighs. When he's got a better chance of convincing her they're true, when she's all blade-sharp with want and anxious to live forever.

Nancy Stone

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