“Remarkable and beautiful both,” Indrid replied.
“I thought . . .” Ian straightened. “All this time I’ve been worried he’s angry because I’ve usurped his position as bandleader.”
“That may be what he sees as well. If so, being open about your own struggle may help clarify things for him.”
He nodded slowly, gaze resting on the phone. “Can I ask you about something else?”
“Of course.”
“Coming here feels like a terrible mistake. It was so hard to escape this world. And it cost me so much. Now I’m diving right back in.”
“I’m not sure that’s actually what frightens you. Or rather, it doesn’t frighten you as much as something else. Shall I tell you what that other thing might be?”
“I suppose . . .”
“Who you are now is not the same young man who struggled so hard and finally broke free. What frightens you is coming face-to-face with the man you are no longer.”
Ian slid off the sofa. Knelt on the floor. Planted his elbows on the coffee table. Placed his face in his hands. Stared at the phone.
“These few days at such a crucial juncture have brought considerable changes. That is what I heard most in our time together. That you are changing, and rapidly. Which is why I am so confident about your situation now. And why I trust you to do the right thing. With your friend Connor. And with my dear Kari. And to confront yourself, young man, with honesty.”
“I don’t—” Ian was halted by the ringing of his phone in the other room. “Excuse me. I should probably answer that.”
Kari watched him enter the bedroom, lifted the phone, said, “Thank you, Indrid. So much.”
“I cannot tell you how glad I am you two have found each other,” she replied.
Indrid might have said something more, but Kari’s ability to hear was abruptly ended by Ian returning to the doorway, his phone in one hand, and saying, “It’s Connor.”
