The Things We Keep(59)

Mustache Man and Skinny finally leave and I shimmy Young Guy’s head off my body and rise into a sitting position. That’s when it dawns on me, what Skinny and Mustache Man want to sort out. It’s us. Me and Young Guy.





29

Eve

As I push Anna’s door open, my whole body is trembling. Questions—and doubts—loop in my head so fast, I feel giddy.… Will she be awake? Will she be startled? Will she remember our conversation? The last thing I want is to terrify her. But before I can rethink anything, Anna sits up in bed.

“Hey, Anna,” I whisper, taking a couple of cautious steps toward her. Like any person woken at night, she blinks, rubs her eyes. Assesses her surroundings. Looks at me warily. “I’m Eve,” I say. “Would you … um … like to see Luke?” I smile, hoping his name will stir something in her. It doesn’t.

She frowns. “Who?”

My confidence, if I ever had any, deserts me. “Um, well … he has dark hair, brown eyes…”

I trail off, give her a minute. But she just continues to look blank.

“You know what?” I say. “Why don’t you just go back to sl—”

“Rosie!” Bert’s voice rings into the silence suddenly. I stifle a gasp. “I need to use the gents’. Come and give an old man a push out of bed.”

My gaze bounces to the door, which is open. I dart for it, pushing it shut just as Rosie comes up the corridor to help Bert. I say a silent prayer that Anna doesn’t choose this moment to freak out. It works; she remains quiet.

A few moments later, when I hear Rosie make her way back to the nurses’ room, I notice Anna watching me. “Who is Luke?” she asks.

I creep to her side uncertainly. “Luke is the young guy,” I whisper. “He has dark hair, brown eyes—”

“Is he cute?”

I chuckle. “He is cute.”

“Okay. Then let’s go.”

I wheel her to the door. There’s no sound from the residents but I can hear Clem’s TV program in the parlor and the low drone of infomercials from the nurses’ room. This is our chance.

I hurry across the hall and I open Luke’s door. Inside I flick on the bathroom light, casting a gentle glow into the room. The nerves, all of a sudden, are back. For me. Not for Anna. She looks around with the curiosity of a child, getting her bearings. I wheel her inside.

I know the moment she sees him, because she stills, and releases her breath softly. Luke blinks awake. He sees me first, then Anna. Maybe it’s because I want to see it, but I swear, a bulb lights up within him. He lurches upright.

I push Anna over to Luke and help her move onto the bed beside Luke. Then I back away. She plants a hand on each side of his face and he closes his eyes. They start to nod in unison—a strange, beautiful liturgical dance—then stop with their foreheads resting together. The empty space between their bodies, I notice, resembles a heart.

After a moment, Anna looks over at me. Her mouth moves ever so slightly, and a breath of noise comes, like a whisper that didn’t work out. But I hear what she’s trying to tell me all the same. Thank you.

*

The next morning, I stand in the kitchen, yawning. In theory, I’m washing the breakfast dishes, but in practice, I’m just staring out the window, where Angus is doubled over in a garden bed. The ground is going to freeze soon, and he’s working hard at putting the plants to bed. Even from the back, there’s something sexy about him. I try to ignore it, but it’s like trying to ignore the sunset during an evening stroll on the beach. Not happening.

Perhaps feeling my stare, he turns. Quickly I focus on the blackened char on the base of the saucepan I am washing. I haven’t spoken to Angus since Clem saw us kissing. I’ve barely looked at Angus since then. I have, however, thought about Angus since then. When I look back at the window he is standing up, walking toward the house. A moment later, he’s in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I say. Clem is in the parlor, and I silently pray she won’t choose this moment to come tumbling in.

“I just wanted to show you this.” Pinched between Angus’s thumb and forefinger is a tiny green sprig. I gasp. “Cilantro?”

“Just about enough to feed a baby Smurf. But yes.”

“Wow.” I remove my gloves and lean over to smell it. “Mmmm. I’ve never had any success growing cilantro.”

“You’ve never tried with me before,” Angus says.

I blush, wondering if Angus is thinking the same thing as I am: That there’s something else I’ve never tried with him. Why on earth am I thinking that?

“Well, thanks for showing me,” I say.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could tempt you to have a rest from cooking one night?” he says. “Maybe let me cook for you?”

“Oh.” I laugh. “Thanks, but it is my job. And I don’t think Eric would be very happy if—”

“Not for the residents,” Angus says, chuckling. “For you.”

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I want to say yes. But …

“You’d rather not,” he says.

“It’s not that. It’s just—”

“Clem.” He nods. “I get it. It’s okay.”