The Things We Keep(83)

“Anna!”

I recognize that voice. “Jack? Where are you?”

“I’m down here,” he says. “Don’t jump. Please! I’m coming to get you.”

A sweep of wind goes by, and I extend my arms, trying to steady myself. But there’s nothing to hold on to. Suddenly I see Jack. He’s standing on the green, looking up at me. He’s surrounded by people. None of them is the person I’m looking for.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Luke’s here, Anna!” Jack shouts. “Just stay there, and I’ll come and get you.”

I hear him yell to someone to get Luke. That’s his name. Luke.

Jack is doing the thing when he is angry but he’s trying to sound like he’s calm. He is probably lying about Luke being there. I can’t see him anywhere.

“Where?” I ask.

He looks around. “There!” he says, pointing. “He’s right there. Now, I’m coming up.”

Jack disappears somewhere, and my eyes scan the green. I try to recall why I was looking for him. I hate it when this happens. I’ve got the feeling I went to quite a lot of effort to find him, and then … poof. It’s gone.

I keep looking. Wondering. Then I see him, and it all falls away. My heart fills. And I step forward.





45

Eve

I follow the screaming all the way to Luke’s room. I’m vaguely aware of Andrea behind me—she’s never one to miss out on something interesting happening—but in the moment, I cannot find the will to care. What has happened?

When I get to Luke’s room, Anna is crouched in a corner. The vase is upturned, and flowers and broken glass litter the floor.

“Hi,” I say, entering the room as fast as I can without being threatening. “It’s me, Eve. The cook.”

Anna looks up, her green eyes wide. I notice her palm is bleeding. Luke stands over her protectively. “You’ve cut yourself, Anna.”

Anna looks at her hand as if this is news to her. Dark red blood rushes from the gash and drips from the crevices between her fingers. I realize, with a sinking heart, that she’s going to need stitches.

“Is it okay if I take a look?” I ask.

She nods.

“Good. Why don’t you sit on the bed? Luke—you, too.”

Anna sits, but Luke remains standing where he is. “Okay,” I say, “Anna, I’ll just get something for your—”

“Eve? What on earth is going on?”

Eric appears in the doorway and my heart clenches like a fist. Behind him, in the hallway, Clementine and Andrea look on.

“Eric, I—”

“What were Anna and Luke doing in here alone?” he asks, incredulous.

I’m saved from responding by Rosie who appears from nowhere, shoving her way past Eric. She surveys the room and swears quietly. “Eric, I need a towel,” she says. “Two, if you have them. Quickly, we have to stop this bleeding.”

It takes Eric a few seconds to change his focus, but he finally grabs the towels. Rosie wraps Anna’s hand in it. “Point it up, Anna,” she says. “It will stop the bleeding.”

Anna, it seems, cannot fathom these instructions, so Rosie does it for her.

“She’ll need stitches,” Rosie says, confirming my initial thought. “I can drive her to the hospital—”

“I’ll do it,” Eric says. “We need you here, Rosie.”

He looks at me, then jerks his head in the direction of Luke and Anna. “So you still think they are better off together? That they’re in love?” He adds a nasty, monosyllabic scoff. I look at Anna and Luke, who are gazing vacantly into separate quadrants of the room, and I have to admit—right now, it’s hard to believe they’re in love.

And yet.

“I think you’d better go home, Eve,” he says.

“No. I’ll go with you to the hospital. Or I can stay here with Luke. I’d rather wait until I know Anna’s all right.”

“No.” Eric’s voice leaves no room for doubt. “You’re going home.”

Rosie lets go of Anna’s hand to grab some gauze, and immediately Anna’s hand drops back to her side. I pick it up again for her, start to tell her I’ll see her in the morning.

“No, you won’t, Eve.”

I glance at Eric. He watches me for a moment, then throws up his hands. “You can’t honestly think you still have a job here?”

I stare at him, not comprehending.

“Wow,” he says. “I’m sorry. But as of this moment, your employment is terminated.” Eric sounds mad and frustrated but also a little sad. This is how I know he means it. He walks over to Rosie’s side, and she starts giving him instructions about Anna’s cut—to keep the pressure on it, to keep it held up. It’s as if I’m not even there.

After a moment, I feel a little hand pump mine. “I think we should go, Mom.”

I blink at Clem. “Yes,” I say after a moment. “Yes. Okay.”

With a tug, Clem guides me out of the room. Andrea stands in the doorway, equal parts thrilled and perplexed. Her hands tremble, and suddenly I see her for exactly what she is. A frightened woman trying to take control wherever she can. Perhaps that’s what we all are?