Free The Time Seekers (The Soul Seekers Book 2) by Amy Saia

corporations doing business.”
    I took my time answering. “Well, we do have our problems, but it could be worse.” I nudged him a little. “Right?”
    He made a weird sound. “It scares me to think we might have to raise a child in this kind of world.”
    My body stiffened. Were doctors allowed to tell spouses without the other spouse’s permission? I swallowed hard before saying, “What do you mean, Will?”
    He glanced up at me. “I mean, if we ever decide to have a child, I wouldn’t want the world to be like it is now. It’s so violent, so greedy.”
    I had to regulate my breathing. With his head in my lap, though, he must have felt my pulse quicken, my whole body go from relaxed and calm to cool as the ice still melting in his hair. “What if we don’t have that choice? What if the world doesn’t change?”
    William didn’t answer. I nudged again, but before long I heard the sound of slow even breaths and soft snoring. He was asleep.
    I slid out from underneath his head and covered him with a crocheted afghan, a gift from Grandmother Carrie—still back in Springvale. We talked to each other on the phone every once in awhile. Not often enough. Black hair fell over in dark waves, and Will’s hands, so strong and lithe, clung to the couch cushions. His lips were pouty; they turned up in a pleasant smile. Still beautiful, even when drunk.
    But not as beautiful.
    I wouldn’t tell him yet. He wasn’t ready. I’d give him clues so he could warm to the idea, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad when he finally figured the whole thing out.
    And maybe the world would have changed by then.
    The sound of ice pellets smacked a gritty rhythm against the front door.
    ¤ ¤ ¤
    A week passed, and I still hadn’t told William about the baby. He was always so absorbed with writing those stories and getting everything organized for the school journal that I decided to leave the news for later. It would be my early Christmas present to him. For now, it felt as if the news would be lost in the flurry of his work. Anyway, I needed to concentrate on finishing the drawings before the contest. Each one needed to be mounted and ready for hanging before December fifth.
    I decided not to tell Max about the pregnancy, as well. He, still jittery from having quit smoking, moved around like a lit bomb. Standing behind my desk with hands clenched together, he’d comment on each line I made, and what motivation I’d chosen for making said line, and when was I going to finish said line. I was like a mule with a whip over its head. I would have never thought it possible to work under such pressure, but now I had this secret life in me, and everything seemed possible. There was a new calm, a new reason to work hard and do my best.
    When I’d completed the last sketch, I put it on his desk and then walked away. A minute later, there was an unsmoked cigarette in my palm with a “thank you” of red ink written on it, followed by, “MAX.” “You’re welcome,” I said with a smile, placing the cigarette in the front pocket of Jesse’s black leather jacket. “I’ll keep it forever.”
    “Please do. I might need it if this contest falls apart.”
    I wanted to say, “ Don’t worry, Max. ” But I didn’t want to jinx it. If it were only me, winning the contest wouldn’t be a big deal. I had other things to worry about. But for him, it was the whole world. His baby. His life. No pressure, he kept saying.
    The first week of December, we mounted the drawings to black cardboard with adhesive spray. We filled out a form for each with a title, story of inspiration, and what media we’d used, then he made me type up a bio on his office typewriter. I had to fib a little, leave out the part about Springvale and how I’d escaped a soul-stealing cult. He said what I’d written was boring and decided to add a few little details of his own about my supposed life growing up in Paris and then New York. How I’d been a runaway until he found