What?Describe one another with one word? Things between Anna and me were just turning civil again. We could not afford to swim in such dangerous waters. I gave my mother a look—one that told her that she had not, in her clear exhaustion, thought this through—but she continued, “You will have one minute, and I will choose the winner based on originality and thoughtfulness.”
Anna swallowed, looking down at the letters between us. “An adjective,” she repeated.
“I promise to be fair,” Mother assured her. “You may choose any adjective, as long as you have good, even humorous, reasoning.”
Anna seemed to relax, and I wondered which word had initially come to her mind to describe me.
Scrawny? Sightless?
What would I say about her?
I stirred the letters once more, hoping for another stroke of brilliance, something humorous, perhaps, to make her laugh. Would she laugh if I spelled outromanticafter her admission at the lending library? Such a word felt too easy, too ingenuine.
Anna straightened her skirts, then brushed back her hair. The lights in the room seemed to dim, and I opened my eyes just a touch wider to see. Anna craved sincerity. She thrived on genuine, not easy. What, then, could I say about her in one word?
“One minute, and ... begin,” Mother said.
Neither of us moved. Looking down at the letters, a fewadjectives for Anna over the years immediately came to mind:hateful,brash,presumptuous.
But alsogenerous,empathetic.
Beautiful.
I could think of more than one word to describe myself, beginning withcoward. For when had I ever, in our acquaintance, truly admitted to Anna Lane a single quality in her that I found admirable? Never. Not once in three years.
“Thirty seconds,” my mother announced. Her presence loomed over me. What washermotive here?
What a childish game. Still, neither of us moved. I could feel Anna’s breathing, see her still and thoughtful in the corners of my vision. What was she considering?
I lifted a hand. My fingers hovered over the letters.A,P,G,H. One word to describe Anna Lane.
I took two, then three letters. Anna followed suit, her gaze sure and serious. A few more letters, then I leaned forward like a schoolboy guarding my answer as I arranged them just so.
“Ten seconds.”
Anna sat up, clearing her throat. And when I finally straightened, I found her eyes on mine. I couldn’t say why, but I did not wish to read her word. I did not want to know which adjective she’d chosen for me, and yet I was impatient to hear it.
“Graham?” Mother prompted. “Your adjective for Miss Lane?”
She meant for me to read it? Devil take it.
“Don’t look so contrite,” Anna said, her voice low and smooth. “You’ve said worse, I am sure.”
My brows knit together. She thought I’d contrived theworst possible adjective of her. What sort of man did she think me to be?
The one I’d been these past few years.
I wanted to be different.
“Brave,” I read, and she straightened. “I chosebraveto describe Miss Lane.”
“Do explain,” Mother prompted.
“Well, staying in the home of her enemy is no simple feat.”
Anna raised a playful brow.
“I think Tabs proved that upon her first morning here. And yet, here she is, living as we live, opening her heart to a new place and new people. I find that very brave.”
