Monday morning, listening to a niggling voice of suspicion, Todd got online and checked on the balance of his and Lisa's joint bank account. It wasn't what he expected. Over a lunch he barely tasted, he did a few calculations and guessed what money was missing. Lisa's last royalty check wasn't in the bank. There was only enough money in there to cover the electric, water and rent payments through the end of the apartment lease. He needed that money for the security deposit on the dream house.
"What's going on?" he demanded when he got home that night. Lisa was in their bedroom, folding laundry. "There's money missing from our account. What did you do with it?"
"It's still in my account."
"It's my money. I earned it. I put in enough to pay for my share of things." She swallowed hard and looked away a moment. When she met his gaze again, her eyes were unusually bright. "I'm not taking anything that belongs to you."
"I wasn't accusing you!" He flinched when his voice echoed off the ceiling. "I just want to know why you're doing this," he said, trying to use a reasonable tone.
"I have to plan for the future." She concentrated on the laundry she folded as she spoke. "I have a baby to protect."
"For God's sake, Lisa, I'm not some drunk that's going to drink up our savings on a binge!"
"I know that. I still have to protect my baby."
"It's my baby, too!"
"Since when?" Lisa whispered. She kept folding the laundry. Her hands didn't shake at all.
Todd realized he wished her hands would shake. He wanted to look into her eyes and see tears and know she hurt just as much as he did. He had the horrid fear that if he looked into her eyes he wouldn't see any pain at all.