“Not necessary,” he said.
Faye made the sum, her take included, and gave William the total, expecting him to gasp.
“Worth every penny. Absolutely gorgeous. And perfectly fitting.”
He took his wallet from his pocket and counted out the bills to the exact amount. Faye cashed out the register and put the money inside, expecting William to walk out of the shop and out of her life into his own. Despite herself, she let a disappointed sigh escape.
But William didn’t move. He stood there, smiling and staring.
“Is there something else?” Faye asked, annoyed.Go on. Go find your woman.
“Faye,” he said, presenting the bouquet back to her with both hands. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to do this. I was unsure whether it was the right thing, and I had to think so hard about it, then work up the courage to ask Thomas if he would approve, considering our age difference. And then more days to get here after work and before the shop closed. Maybe I should have called your house or come by. But I wanted to ask you without your mother and father around in case you felt pressured by them. Or me.”
“What’s this?” Faye had never been asked out on a proper date, not by a man worth his salt, someone who wasn’t being a silly flirt teasing a shopgirl. But she knew what he was trying to say. And she knew how she’d answer by the beat of her heart, the pulsing in her body.
“I was hoping you might have dinner with me.”
That night, Faye put the three extra dollars she’d charged William into her coffee can with the rest of her getaway money. Through a window left ajar, she heard the tide lap the granite rocks, the buoy bells clang in the harbor. The bouquet on her dresser overwhelmed the room, but she didn’t care a bit.
She had a date with William Sullivan.
Over the next month they had dinner together twice, then attended a matinee about a teenage boy who turned into a sheepdog. Every kid in town was there, and the wild guffawing made the movie nearly impossible to hear. At one point, William joined the popcorn throwing, beaning a particularly obnoxious kid in the back of the head before slouching in his seat, pulling Faye down with him. They laughed, foreheads together, and William pecked her on the lips. She leaned back in the seat, fireworks bursting like they were on the screen. Her first kiss. William took her hand, laced her fingers in his. They turned their attention back to the screen, but Faye stole a glance. William beamed.
They didn’t talk about the kiss on the ride home, but William held her hand walking to the car. When they arrived, the sun was setting, casting long fall shadows across the front lawn of the house on the cove. William opened the car door for Faye and walked her to the porch. Usually Thomas or Jean was outside to greet them, but not this time. Faye welcomed the reprieve from their brazen curiosity and hopeful grins.
“Thanks,” she said, her mind on the kiss, her lips wanting more. “That was fun.”
“Those kids, though.”
“More like hyenas,” Faye added. She ran her fingertips down the grainy door frame, searching. She smiled at William. “Old habit.”
“What’s that?” He put his hands in his pockets, leaned against the porch rail.
“When we first arrived. There was a story about Papa’s brother.”
“Your uncle,” William added. “My father knew him.”
“Yes. My uncle. I was in a bit of a shock when we arrived. It was all new, of course. And to come from a place so different from all of this.” She waved her hand around. “Their house,” she stuttered, “ourhouse, in Ireland, was quite rustic. Stone and dirt and sea. Here, everything was white and wood. It’s always had this same green trim. Very Irish,” she said, her nerves on edge, trying to keep the story right as she told it.
She could not tell him about how certain she was that war would have wiped out America too, like it had wiped out so much of Europe. It had taken her years to understand that the war had never come to American cities and towns, not like it had come to Germany and France and England. Not like it had come to Japan. No, America shipped her men overseas—men like William—to fight. How surprised she’d been that soldiers came out for local parades, that guns of war stayed in armories and on military bases and on warplanes and ships at sea. Tanks didn’t plod down the streets of Maine, America, the way they did in movie reels. Instead, the roads were lined with bushes and flowers and berries, waterways and estuaries.
“The house was full of this uncle’s things. My father hadn’t seen his brother in years. I would come across the strangest items—a watch, a bookmark, coins, matches. I wondered about them and this man living alone in this sort of house when the space in Ireland was so small. Jean swept so many of his things away. With her hand even.” Faye made the motion of clearing a table. “Right into a box. I was very quiet then. But I watched everyone. I think it was our first spring here. Winter had been hard. So much snow!”And so much sorrow!“And the wind! It took getting used to. We were there, by the fence, and a neighbor woman comes by and tells my mother that this uncle had planned to marry a woman with two sons. He had given her a ring.” Faye turned away from William’s gaze, embarrassed that she’d brought up marriage. “Anyway,” she continued, “he bought this house with a life of savings so they would all have a place to live. She was to meet him at the courthouse and he’d waited but she never showed. My mother was shocked by this. ‘Up and left. Just a note tacked to the door,’ the woman said. For the longest time, I looked for the hole where the thumbtack would have been. I could imagine the note and his heartbreak, having invested so much, given so much, only to have someone you love up and leave you with nothing but a piece of paper blowing in the wind and a tiny hole in your house.” She closed her eyes, traced her fingers along the woodgrain, feeling around for the tack mark. She could not tell him how she left Ireland without a single word. “But then I would think, whatwas that woman to do if she truly thought she had a chance for a better life somewhere else, with someone else? And so I feel for it. Like I said, old habit.” She smiled and crossed her arms.
“You never found it?” William asked.
“No. I imagine it’s been painted over. But it’s still there. Beneath the surface.”
“Hm. Big losses do leave big holes,” William said, his mouth tightening into a line of resolve. “At least in my experience.”
“Mine too.” Faye knew she was pressing unhealed wounds. “Maybe you’ll tell me about it sometime. What’s missing in your life.”
William pushed himself from the railing and took Faye’s hand. A strand of hair fell into his eyes, and Faye brushed it away, surprising herself with her own tenderness. They stood for a notable moment, eyes locked. The door opened, and Faye and William stepped apart.
“William,” Jean said, her voice light and friendly. “I’ve taken a meat loaf out of the oven. Would you join us for dinner?”
Faye marveled at this change that had come over Jean since William Sullivan had taken Faye on that first date. She was almost pleasant. Faye could only guess she was hoping to finally be rid of her. It was okay. Faye understood.
“Not tonight, ma’am. It smells delicious, but I’ve got chores to attend to before it’s dark. But another time.” He turned his attention to Faye. “We’ll talk soon, I hope.”
