That was all. I didn’t ask what he’d write. I didn’t ask if he’d send it tonight or whether Easton would even remember a longshot kid he’d vouched for fifteen years ago. Still, I was dying to know.
I went to the kitchen and made the coffee he hadn’t asked for. Rook had a preferred way to take it at night. It was barely coffee at all, mostly milk, and he’d be embarrassed for the room to know. I set it by the laptop where his hand would find it. I kneaded his shoulders for a moment and then left.
I pulled the door to behind me, leaving a four-inch gap.
I had one other person who needed to know what was going on, and I knew it would change our break plans. Rook surprised me and entered the kitchen while I had my phone in hand. I almost waved him off, but then I didn’t. The two of us together were the whole point of it. “Stay?” I asked before punching the call button.
He sat at the island and waited.
I called Mom.
She was already talking when I picked up the phone. It was like catching a moving train. ”—because your sister says it’s fine to drive in this, and I told her, the lake road is ice by four, but does anyone listen to me? Luki, the dog will not get in the car now. He sat down in the driveway like a—are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re coming up tomorrow? Before dark? Tell me you’ll get here before dark.”
“I’ll be there before dark.” My pulse pounded in my throat. Rook reached out to take my free hand. “Mom, I have to tell you something.”
“You’re hurt.” That was her instant response. “Your ankle. I saw you favor it on television in the Buffalo game. Don’t tell me it’s nothing—“
“It’s not the ankle.” I didn’t dress up the news. I said it plainly, while I held the hand of the man I love.
“Mom, there’s someone.”
She was silent for a moment. “Someone?”
“There’s a man. For—“ My throat closed, and Rookgripped my hand tighter. “There’s been one for five years. He planted your tree. The maple you sent, even though you thought I was in an apartment and it would need an enormous pot. It’s eight feet tall now, and I can see it from the kitchen window. He keeps your postcards on the fridge. He can’t read the Hungarian, but he won’t let me throw them out.” Tears were leaking out of my eyes, but I wasn’t fighting it. “I’m bringing him tomorrow for our Thanksgiving dinner. I’m bringing him home.”
She started crying. I heard the sound.”Kisfiam,”she said,my little boy, a word she hadn’t used since I was small. And then, because she is who she is, she asked, “Does he eat?”
I laughed. “He eats, Mom.”
“What does he eat? Is he too thin, like you? Tell me what I need to make. American turkey? Or duck? I’ll ask at the meat—“ She was already making a list. “Fish? Does he eat fish?”
“He’s from Maine. He eats fish.”
“Maine.” Her voice changed. It dropped low. “Luki, every Christmas I ask, and you tell me nothing, and I let it be. I think you’ll tell me when you’re ready. The bed’s always made. Anyone you bring, there’s room.” She exhaled. “The big guest room. I’ve been keeping the room.”
That took the wind out of me. She’d been holding a room ready for years. It was the guest room we never used, except for the time relatives came from Slovakia.Anyone you want to bring, there’s room.She’d kept it for Rook and me for five years, without knowing who he was.
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry it took—“
“No sorry.” Her voice was sharp again. “You’re coming home, and you’re bringing him, and I’ll make everything. He’ll leave too thin on purpose, but I’ll send containers.” She was crying and planning all at the same time. Her voice dropped again. “Drive before dark. Both of you. Tell him I said bring you home.”
And she was gone before I could say any more. I looked at Rook with the phone still in my hand.
“She said you need to take me home,” I told him.
“I heard. She’s loud, like her son. She asked if I ate fish.”
I laughed.
***
Rafe was already dressed when I walked in. He had his skates on and gloves in his lap.
“Morning.” He sounded like he’d been awake for hours.
