Since She Went Away(29)

He asked Jenna a lot of questions about her family and her life. What did her mom and dad do? What did she do for fun? Did she have siblings? She answered all his questions, trying to keep the nervous edge out of her voice so he didn’t think she was a babbling, bumbling idiot. But when she turned the questions back to him, when she asked about his family and his friends and his life, he didn’t reveal much. Even then, a screen existed, a barrier Ian didn’t seem to want to let Jenna see behind.

They said good-bye in front of her house, and only then did Jenna wonder about how far Ian would have to walk to get back home. She knew his family lived in a nice new subdivision, one a couple of miles on the other side of their school. She thought about calling him back, offering for her mother to give him a ride. But she didn’t speak up. Ian seemed so at ease walking away, so sure of who he was and where he was going, that she figured he had it under control. People like Ian always had a way.

The next day, Jenna told Celia that she didn’t have to worry about how she made it home, that Ian ended up walking her. Celia didn’t say anything. She gave Jenna a knowing look, one that Jenna didn’t fully understand at the time, but two days later she did when Celia and Ian were a couple, and the barrier that had always existed with Ian, the one Jenna hoped over time might fall away, became permanent. They spent time together over the years, but always with Celia there. And only in the context of Jenna being Celia’s friend and not really Ian’s.

The waiter came back one more time, as the restaurant started to fill. People stood near the front door, waiting for tables. And Jenna sat by herself with only a glass of water in front of her. She checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. Maybe Ian had been held up. Maybe he just didn’t want to deal with her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to order something?” he asked. Between the lines, Jenna heard what he really meant. Are you ever going to order something?

“My friend, the person I’m meeting, he should be here very soon.”

And then the crowd at the door parted a little, and Ian stepped through. He looked across the restaurant and made eye contact with Jenna. He nodded, his lips a compressed line.

He was there.

? ? ?

When Ian reached the table, Jenna didn’t know what to do.

Since that awful November morning, the two of them had found themselves in the same room on more than one occasion. The police station, the volunteer headquarters. But every time Jenna wanted to speak to Ian, to offer him some form of an apology for her part in the events that led to Celia’s disappearance, she couldn’t get close. Either circumstances beyond their control intervened, or Ian steered himself away, walking in the opposite direction in a manner that didn’t feel entirely purposeful but still left Jenna feeling shut out. And blamed.

Jenna stood up, and the waiter retreated. In full adulthood, Ian stood six-four. He was long and lean like a basketball player, and his suit—the jacket and pants black, the white shirt open-necked without a tie—fit him as though it was custom-made, which it no doubt was. He wore a look of caution, his face impassive, his hands close to his body. Jenna took a half step forward, wondering if they were going to hug. Wouldn’t two old friends do that? Wouldn’t two old friends who had shared a mutual loss do that very thing?

But Ian kept his distance. He reached for the chair and not Jenna, so she had no choice but to follow suit and take her seat again, this time across from him. The waiter rematerialized and handed Ian a menu, which he set aside, ordering water and placing his hands on the table. Jenna was able to study his face and saw that the previous few months had taken a toll. His hair contained some strands of gray that Jenna swore had never been there before, and his eyes looked tired. Lines were starting to form in their corners, and she believed the lids looked heavier, weighted down by the seemingly endless days that had passed since Celia disappeared.

“If you’re hungry you can order something,” he said. “I’m not that hungry. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

And Jenna noticed that change to his body as well. Ian wasn’t just trim and fit. His face looked gaunter, the skin on his cheeks drawn tight.

“I guess I’m fine,” she said.

“My treat.”

“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “I can pay if I order something.”

Ian reached out for his water and took a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. When he put the glass down, he said, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

What did she want to talk to him about?

How did she sum up the feelings of the past few months? “Detective Poole came and talked to me today. First time in almost a month.”

Jenna let her statement hang in the air, expecting Ian to ask what the detective wanted to talk to her about. But he didn’t say anything. He waited for her to go on.

But Jenna couldn’t do it. She couldn’t talk about other things until the original problem between them was addressed. “Ian, I have to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

Jenna glanced out the window, where she saw people coming and going from the small clothing shop next door. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, that she wouldn’t let the emotion of the moment get the best of her. She certainly didn’t want to cry in front of Ian. He’d always been proper, always been a little reserved, but as an adult he’d become ever more serious. Stoic, withdrawn Ian.