The One In My Heart

He leaned in and kissed me, a slow, simmering kiss that left me reeling. His hand on my cheek, his lips grazing my jaw, he murmured, “I love you.”


I swallowed and left quickly. But that night, as I lay in bed, I reached for my phone.

I love you too, I texted.

His reply came a minute later. In the immortal words of Han Solo, I know.





Chapter 18





MRS. ASQUITH PASSED AWAY THE next week.

Zelda immediately purchased a plane ticket for the grand old dame’s funeral. I helped her with the packing. When we were finished, I went up to my bedroom, opened my laptop, and pulled up Larry de Villiers’s e-mail.

Which made me grimace no less upon rereading. I sighed and began typing.

Dear Larry,

I’m very sorry to learn of Mrs. Asquith’s departure. She was tremendous, and I wish she could have lived another twenty years.

Zelda is headed to England tomorrow. I imagine you two will run into each other at the funeral and have much to say. I also imagine that you might hold yourself back, my words of admonition still echoing in your head.

Please allow me to apologize for the more extreme things I said that day in Mrs. Asquith’s garden. It is not—nor has it ever been—my place to tell you what to do. The choice belongs to you and Zelda.

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t find the possibility of Zelda embarking upon a new life absolutely nerve-racking. But my role is to love her, not to keep her penned into what little space I consider safe.

I wish you both the very, very best.

Yours,

Evangeline

I hit send before I could change my mind. And then I went downstairs to the kitchen, where Zelda was putting together our dinner, a heated-up, store-bought lasagna alongside a spinach salad.

I helped her carry everything to the dining table, conscious that she peered at me as she handed me the plates and the silverware. My admission that I couldn’t handle emotional intimacy had changed things for Zelda and me. Not that it had led to strain or mistrust, but there was a sense of melancholy and regret in the air.

I waited until we had sat down and served ourselves. “I haven’t told you this, Zelda, and I don’t believe Larry de Villiers has either. When we met in England, he let me know that he’d been debating whether to rekindle your relationship. I told him that he shouldn’t even think about it, because of his tendency to make a huge deal of your condition.”

Zelda blinked. “And what did he say?”

“He e-mailed me later to say he agreed with my assessment. I e-mailed him back fifteen minutes ago to apologize for overstepping my boundaries.” I looked down at my plate. “I should apologize to you too, for meddling in your life.”

“Darling.” Zelda reached across the table and took my hand. “You expressed an opinion. That’s not the same as meddling.”

“Maybe not. But I did appoint myself the arbiter of what’s good for you, when you’re perfectly capable of deciding for yourself.”

She shook her head. “Larry isn’t the only one who can rekindle this relationship. I could have approached him too. But I’ve been hesitant. So even if you’d said nothing to him and he everything to me, not much would have happened by this point.”

“But now you’ll meet in person.”

She nodded. “I’m excited—and a bit nervous. It’s been a long time.”

I gazed at our clasped hands. “I think you’ll have a great time together.”

“We always do. With your father the challenge was to negotiate the ordinary times. With Larry the ordinary times have never been a problem.” She sighed softly. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll look out for myself. And I’ve reached an age when I have no problem telling someone to fuck off.”

We both giggled at that.

“It almost makes me wish Larry would do something stupid,” I told her, “so I can hear you say those words.”

And that made us laugh again.

Zelda took a bite of her lasagna. “But enough about me, darling. How are you?”

I dug a fork into my own serving. “I’m trying to do the right thing. Trying to make good choices.”

Trying to understand that I could act through fear, and not just out of fear.

She studied me, my beloved Zelda. And slowly she smiled. “You’ll do very well, darling. Not all those who wander are lost, remember?”


BEFORE I WENT TO SLEEP that night, I texted Bennett. I’m very sorry about Mrs. Asquith.

Me too, he replied. I fixed her house because she told me she was going to live forever. I believed the old battle-ax.

I smiled a little, touched his words, and set the phone aside. It promptly pinged again.

She’d enjoy having you at her funeral.

And I really want to go, I answered. But I’ve commitments here.