He smiles lovingly at me. “I’m in awe of what you did, Bree—turning over every stone until it led to this woman.”
“Yes, but ... in the end, this girl Rileydied.”
“You feel responsible?”
There, he sees it right away.
“Yes. Partly, at least.”
He rubs his hand slowly down the side of his face, looking up to the left briefly. “When I was getting divorced years ago, I read a few things about guilt—because I had my share of it—and I remember a British psychologist saying that guilt occurs when our own moral standards don’t match up to what we’ve done. I understand how you’re feeling, but you had no idea that encouraging Riley to tell the truth would cause her any harm. If youhadthought that, you would have proceeded differently.”
“Yes, I see your point. But that doesn’t change the outcome.”
“Hmm ... He said something else that might be of help. Instead of feeling stuck with our guilt, we should use it as an energizing emotion. To get us to apologize or atone—or, um, the third one I think he mentioned was to make amends.”
“Ah, that’s good food for thought,” I say. Basgetsme; he has from the start. “Maybe there’s something I can do for Riley’s fiancé or family.”
“Yes, that’s an idea for sure.”
I take a long sip of rosé. It’s dead quiet out, no birdsong at all, but the air between us seems to vibrate as if someone is running a wet finger around the edge of a wineglass. I can’t wait any longer.
“Bas, there’s something else I need to get off my chest. Something not good. I—”
“Before we go any further,” he says, interrupting me, “let me ask you a question, Bree.” He glances briefly out to the fields and the enormous Uruguayan sky. “Is thisworkingfor you? Us, this place, everything?”
The questions take me aback, even make me gulp. Does he already know?
“Yes, Bas, itisworking. Why are you asking that?”
“When you were gone, especially when we talked on the phone, I was struck by the distance between us. And not just in miles. We’ve spoken so little about some of the most important things in your life—Melanie, her death, the end of your marriage. I blame myself for not asking more, for not helping us create a dialect for those kinds of discussions, but it doesn’t feel—at least to me—that you gave me much of an entry. I never even went online and read about the case because I felt I’d be violating your privacy.”
I sigh, my breath stuttering a little. “You’re right, Bas, I haven’t. But”—and to my surprise, I choke on the words—“I want to change that. I made the mistake of thinking it was better for our relationship—and just plain better for me, too, I guess—if I barricaded all the past behind me.”
“And it’s not because you’ve only been biding your time here?”
Is that what he really thinks? Has he made a decision about us before I even got back? I can almost hear my heart pounding in my chest.
“No, Bas, I’mnotbiding my time, not at all. I love you and our life here, and I want it to go on and on ... But it can’t go on without me being honest with you.”
He lifts his hand slightly from the table, in a gesture for me to stop.Please,I pray, don’t let this all fall away.
“It’s not necessary, Bree,” he says finally. “I know things were very hard for you in Cartersville, and that perhaps there was also unfinished business.”
I hold my breath. So, he’s had his suspicions.
“Yes,” I say, barely above a whisper. “But not business I want a part of anymore.”
He nods and glances out at the landscape again, seeming to study it, but I know he’s thinking,deciding. He’s got every right to be disgusted by my behavior, unfinished business or not, and to send me on my way.
He turns back to look at me. “I’m willing to put it behind us, Bree, if you are, too. And if this is the life you really want now.”
“It is,” I say, flooded with relief. “For certain.”
And not just because of the serenity it’s brought. Ididflee, as Logan claimed, to the damn Southern Cone, because when I’m here, it often feels as if grief has overslept and missed the flight. But it’s also because of Bas and the man that he is.
I set my glass down and reach across the table. I grasp Bas’s hand and bring it toward me, pressing my lips against his fingers.
After lunch, I flop onto the bed, falling into the deepest sleep I’ve had in days. When I finally wake, I can tell it’s still daytime, but for a few seconds, I have no clue where I am, and my heart thrums with anxiety.
