“He won’t,” I maintain. “The man loves his daughter. He’ll meet them.”
“If he doesn’t?” Ross persists.
“What do you think I’ll do?”
After a moment, Ross asks, “It’s all a bluff?”
“Of course it is.”
#
Merele arrives at the sanctuary half an hour later. I watch from the window as she emerges from a dusty Jeep, juggling shopping bags on either arm. She’s cut her hair. It used to hang to the last knot on her spine, but now its rich auburn length barely brushes her shoulders.Her skin is more tanned, and I wonder if her eyes still flash between green and hazel, depending on her mood.
A strange sense of loss fills me as I observe Ross take the shopping bags from her and touch his lips to hers. I’m happy for them. It’s the truth, even if at times it feels like a lie.
“You still hung up on her?”
Irritation flares at the question. Trust Nolene to go straight for the jugular. “She’s married to my closest friend,” I state flatly.
Nolene shrugs. “That doesn’t stop half the men I know.”
“It stops me.”
“You know, I could never shake the feeling there was always a third person in our relationship.”
The open hostility in her voice darkens my already black mood. “Let it go, Nolene.”
“It’s pathetic, really, your habit of falling for women you can’t have.”
I stiffen. I know who she’s really referring to. This is quicksand territory. If I lash out at her, I’ll reveal too much. So I say mildly, “Your tongue was always too sharp for my liking.”
“Fortunately for you then, my tongue is no longer your concern.”
She leaves me in the sour wake of her parting comment. I rub the now neatly stitched cut on my temple, Nolene’s insinuations like claws scratching at all the closed doors in my head.
#
While Ross empties the groceries out of the bags, Merele methodically packs them away. There’s a rhythm to their routine, a marriage dance of synchronized steps they’ve perfected over the years. I know any attempt by me to assist will only disrupt the rhythm, so I settle instead on making a round of drinks for everyone and filling Mel in on everything that’s happened.
There are dozens of questions she could throw at me.
Do you know what you’re doing?
Why did you bring her here?
Why are you risking our freedom?
Instead, she toes off her sandals and sits on the bar stool next to mine. Ross drags a stool to the other side of the kitchen island and eases himself onto it, rubbing his left thigh with the heel of his hand. Knowing how hard he pushes himself, I’m guessing this is the first opportunity he’s allowed himself to relax today.
“When we’re finished here,” Mel says to me, “I want you to take me to see Amy.”
Ross flicks a glance my way. “You okay with that?”
“It’s your house,” I say neutrally.
The memory of Merele’s chaste kiss of greeting still lingers. It wasn’t as bad as I feared. There was no sharp pang this time, only a bittersweet pull of what might have been.
And then, as though these last few months apart don’t matter, the three of us slip into the comfortable habit of discussing the sanctuary.
