“Oh, Andrew,” Sorrel said, “how wonderful that your first thought was my sisters.” She reached out and brushed his wet hair away from his eyes. “I thought I saw someone outside and, foolishly, I ran out to see who it was.”
“Good God, you look as if you’d barely escaped a serial killer! I was ready to leap into some kind of manly action!”
“I’d pay money to see that,” Sorrel said. “Seriously, I did think there was somebody out there, a kid actually, and with the lightning I got nervous.”
Andrew picked up the bags and put them in the kitchen. When he came back, he had two Cobra beers in hand.
“This may sound a little therapy-y,” he said, “but do you think hearing about Mathilde has sparked memories of Matty? And, with that in mind, your grief has resurfaced, taken shape here tonight?”
Sorrel thought for a moment. “Probably,” she said. “Add the foxglove at the nursery the other day, and I am ripe for a crazy-lady episode. All I need is a cat.”
“No cats. Wags does not approve,” Andrew said. “I’ll get the food; you poke the fire.”
They sat eating mildly spiced butter chicken (Andrew didn’t know how adventurous Sorrel might be) and balti and dhal. They used their fingers and warm naan to sop up every bite, fresh coriander scattered over everything, and tart yogurt in a small bowl beside the dishes on the table.
“My sister Nettie makes a lovely Thai fish soup, springy and fresh.”
“I should like to taste that,” Andrew said and scooped a dollop of dhal into his mouth.
They fell silent. Sorrel did not want to encourage Andrew’s enthusiasm for all things Sparrow. It would only lead to disappointment when Sorrel returned to Granite Point after the summer solstice. In her head if not her heart, she knew that Andrew was temporary—lovely, more delicious than any curry—but temporary. If he made her feel as if he might actually find pleasure in being by her side day by day, Sorrel understood that here was a man who’d forgotten how intoxicating new love felt. Perhaps he’d never known to begin with. Certainly he was silly with it; even Sorrel could see that and it was charming, but it couldn’t last.
“So tomorrow then,” Andrew said when the silence was too heavy to bear.
“Yes,” Sorrel said, “we get into the garden tomorrow.”
“Will you require my services?” he asked.
“Um, well, I think Gabe and the guys who have been on site will be with me.”
“Oh, fine, yes, I see,” Andrew said. But it wasn’t fine. “It’s only that I would very much like to see what’s happening there, you know, behind the wall you tore down.”
“I did not tear down that wall,” Sorrel said and laughed. “It fell over.”
“Ah, just like Humpty Dumpty.”
“Exactly like that only we’ll put it back together again without any king’s men or horses.”
Andrew cleared the dishes away, gesturing for Sorrel to sit and finish her beer. Wags followed him, hoping for a little spillage, which she got. He returned with a bowl of Pan Masala, a fennel seed and jeera candy mixture.
“Digestivo,” he said, mixing his cultures.
Sorrel ate some. It was sweet and sharp at once, so like the moment.
“Shall we go back to bed now?” Andrew asked. “I’m exhausted by the act of eating and feel inexorably pulled toward that tangle of blankets and pillows, don’t you?”
“I do,” Sorrel said. “I am compelled by a force I cannot understand.”
This was true in some strange way. Sorrel felt swoony and silly at once, and perhaps they were the same thing, but she recognized that she should be wary. Still, there was something about this new Andrew, something hopeful and light that swept away all her good sense, so she took his hand and let him lead her off.
“Perhaps we have been overtaken by a mysterious alien virus,” Andrew said as he untied the dressing gown. “It might be wise to self-quarantine to save the others, hmm? Just stay here until we feel our sensible old selves again.”
But Sorrel didn’t want to be her old self, not then and not ever if she was honest. It wasn’t until Andrew made that comment that she realized how relentlessly sensible she had been all her life. As the oldest of the Sisters, it had been down to Sorrel to take up the slack between their grieving father and their loving but distracted housekeeper. It was Sorrel who explained the birds and the bees to Nettie and Patience (in the garden naturally) and Sorrel who found her mother’s old debutante dress and re-purposed it for Nettie’s senior prom. Patience, the youngest and the one who had never known a mother’s love, was such a fierce little girl that Sorrel almost never had to soothe her, and she certainly never had to find a ruffled dress for her. Patience wouldn’t be caught dead at the prom, and Sorrel never went to her own because she couldn’t leave the girls alone with their father. Simon Mayo and Sorrel had always had a sneaker for each other but neither ever acted. It would have been fairly shocking all around if Simon had suddenly stepped up and offered to take her. No, instead he escorted Lucy Titcomb, an appropriate choice made by his mother.
So here was Sorrel not just throwing caution to the winds, but flinging it into the eye of a hurricane. She and Andrew twined together in a way that neither of them ever thought they’d experience again. Even Wags gave up trying to come between them under the covers.
The next morning the skies had cleared, the sun was warm, and steam rose from the fields behind the stable block. Three horses stood in the distance, silhouetted against the woods beyond. When Andrew opened the front door, he found an enormous bundle of lilacs wrapped in butcher paper with a note from Delphine that read: “Saved from the storm for our little gardener.” Alongside was a blue striped box tied with twine.