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surrounding area.”
    His eyes twinkled, revealing his deep appreciation for the city’s history. “I’ve met so many good people here who are proud of their heritage. Many of them talk about ancestors who were slaves, often hidden in dank basements and whisked through secret tunnels just to be free.”
    Meredith had grown up in slavery. Not the type Pete talked about, but a slavery of control and manipulation.
    She would have done anything to gain her freedom. Except crawl through a narrow underground tunnel.
    Death paled in comparison to the terror confined places still held for her.
    Thanks to Sam Collins.
    Sheila appeared, carrying a large tray of food. “Lunch is ready,” she sang out, arranging the assortment of cold cuts and cheese on the table where Meredith and Pete sat.
    Throughout the meal, their conversation focused on Savannah and the charm of the historic district. Meredith ate heartily, surprising herself with herappetite. She was equally surprised at how comfortable she felt sitting next to Pete, as if she’d known him for a lifetime.
    After they finished, Sheila scooted her chair back from the table and patted Meredith’s arm. “I may be butting in where I shouldn’t, but as I told you, Eve and I are friends.”
    Sheila pursed her lips. “You know about her medical condition, and I’m sure Pete mentioned the importance of being tested for VHL. If you feel up to it, he could draw your blood today and send it out to the lab we use so you can have the results that much sooner.”
    Before Meredith could comment, Sheila turned to Pete. “You can get everything you need at the Institute. It’s not far from here. Barbara McSwain is on duty today. I can call ahead and let her know you’re coming.”
    Much as Meredith wasn’t ready to be tested, if Pete left the house, she could bid goodbye to Sheila and disappear into the city while he was gone.
    Last night she had spied a number of R OOM-TO-RENT signs in the older section. She also recalled seeing a public health clinic where she could get prenatal care.
    â€œThat sounds like a good idea,” Meredith said, hoping her enthusiasm didn’t seem forced.
    Sheila stepped inside to make the phone call while Pete leaned across the table and reached for her hand.
    â€œYou’re making the right decision,” he said. “Adrenal tumors could come into play during delivery. If your doctor knows what to expect, you’ll be in less danger.”
    She pulled her hand back. “Danger?”
    â€œHigh blood pressure is the main complication.”
    â€œCould it affect the baby?”
    The way he shrugged off the question was more telling than if he’d used medical jargon to define the problem. More good news.
    â€œIt’s not something to worry about at this point,” he assured her. “You may not even have the disease. That’s why testing is important.”
    He glanced at his watch. “If I go to the Institute now, I can have your samples ready for pickup this afternoon. The sooner you know the results, the better.”
    Pete hurried across the stone patio and entered the house. A few seconds later, he stuck his head through the open French doors and said something to her.
    But she was still trying to process this new glitch: that high blood pressure could place her baby at risk. “Pardon?”
    â€œI said I’ll put your bag in my car.” He disappeared again.
    Dropping her napkin on the table, she pushed her chair back and hurried after him.
    â€œPete?” she called out as she threw open the front door.
    His Jeep was already at the end of the block. He turned left and drove out of sight.
    Her plan to leave while he was at the Institute wouldn’t work. Not when he had the bag that contained the baby quilt she’d made, each stitch filled with love for her unborn child.
    Hopefully, she’d find another opportunity to get away