Conlan doesn’t answer right away, just
shrugs and stares into his bowl, his lower lip trembling. “Fine,”
he whispers, but I don’t believe it. I don’t think any of us do.
Composing himself, Conlan clears his throat and raises his voice,
looks at us and nods. “She’ll be fine.”
“What about the—” Dylan starts, but I
kick him beneath the table and he shuts up quickly. The last thing
he needs to ask about now is the baby. Stirring his soup, he
mumbles, “That’s good, I guess. That she’s fine.”
“Yeah,” Conlan says. I get the feeling
we’re keeping him from… well, from whatever he was doing before we
came over here. He glances at Shanley and chews the inside of his
lip before he asks, “Have you been to see her again?” Shanley
shakes his head. With a sigh, Conlan asks, “That surgery you
mentioned, stitching her up inside? Will that work?”
“It might,” Shanley says, sipping at
his soup. “Or it might not, I’ll have to be honest with you here.