Chapter 19
Chapter 19
“ W e need to get back to work,” Leo said. He and Esther sat on the floor in front of the sputtering morning fire, huddled together for warmth, eating a breakfast of bread, jam, and coffee.
“I’ll pack,” Esther said.
“I meant that figuratively. We’re going to stay here, but we’re going to figure out who wants you dead and why.”
“How are we going to do that?” she asked.
“Your brain. We’re going to go back through every case you’ve worked since you started, look for patterns, connections, overlap. I’m sure now you were being followed. There has to be a connection somewhere we’ve overlooked.”
“Okay, Leo,” Esther said.
He sighed. “You shouldn’t listen to everything I say. Someday I’m going to lie to you.”
“I’ll know when you’re lying,” she said.
“No you won’t.”
“Of course I will.”
He sighed again.
“You do that a lot,” she noted.
“You stress me,” he said, feeling as relaxed as he’d ever felt. It was hard to feel tense about anything in front of a warm fire. And the house itself was so cozy, so clean. Leo had forgotten what it was like to have clean sheets on the bed and a meal on the table, if he’d ever known. Was this what it was like to have a home, a real home with a family who took care of each other?
“ Fyrgebr?c ,” Esther said. “The distinct crackling sound of a roaring fire.”
“Indeed,” Leo agreed.
Esther laughed, smiling up at him. “You don’t say indeed.”
“Country Leo says indeed now,” he replied.
Her hand reached up to smooth his temple. “You seem so relaxed here.”
“I am,” he agreed. Maybe he would be this way all the time if he lived in the country.
“Was this what you were like as a little boy, before you became a soldier?” she asked.
“No, I was a mean, hard little cuss,” he said.
“I find that hard to believe. You were probably sweet and adorable and caring and only pretended to be tough,” she said.
“Maybe,” he agreed. Back then, he had only pretended to be as hard as he now was.
“I wish we had known each other then,” she said.
“You think we would have been friends?” he asked.
She nodded. “Best friends, but only in secret because you would have had to keep pretending to be tough. So we would have had a secret meeting place, a tree house just for you and me. We would meet there at night and I would tell you all the things I learned that day by reading, and you would tell me all the funny things that happened at school. And I would fill it with my words.”
He took her coffee, drained it, and set the mug away before pulling her closer, cradling her in his embrace. “What words?” he asked softly. He was already soothed, imagining how it might have been. How would his life have been different if he’d had a friend like Esther when he was a boy and in need of her most?
“Words like ceraunophilia , the love of thunder and lightning, werifesteria , to wander through a forest in search of mystery. And then I would speak words about you.”
“What words about me?” He shifted, resting his head on her stomach while her fingers sifted his hair.
“I would hold you like this and say, ‘You’re so important, Leo. You’re so worthwhile, so kind, so good . You’re the best part of my world, the favorite part of my day. You matter, you make a difference.’”
He pressed his face to her stomach, hiding the sudden moisture in his eyes. Being with Esther was a healing sort of pain, like lancing an infected wound. Her words scraped the infection away, one painful layer at a time. She hugged him, rubbed the uninjured portion of his back, kissed the top of his head. Leo lay there, wrung out and exhausted, feeling as if he’d run a marathon. Who knew emotional recovery could take such a physical toll?
They lay in perfect silence a long time until he rallied the energy to speak again. “And what would I do for you, in our perfect world?”
“What you already do, bridge the gap to normalcy and fight all the bad guys.”
“How is that different from everyone else in your life?” he asked. She had a protective father, brothers, cousins. What made him unique? It was embarrassing how much he wanted to be different from the others.
“To be honest, when we started the job, I thought you would take over. You were the spy, and I was some weird girl. That first day, the phone rang and you picked it up. I thought, this is it. Another man about to tell me what to do. But you handed me the phone and let me do my job. Without argument, you’ve been content to stand back and let me work.”
“You’re so good at it,” he said.
“And you’re good at what you do. And that’s what makes the difference. No one has ever let me try before. My father, I know he loves me, but he doesn’t think I have it in me to succeed. He let me go to college because he didn’t know what else to do with me. My sisters married as soon as they turned eighteen, but I had no interest. When I told him I wanted a job, he said I could work at a store for a while until I had babies. If I hadn’t won that contest, I’d probably be married to Ruben by now, probably pregnant, definitely miserable.”
“How could they have made you marry a man you don’t love, why would they?”
“Because they believe it’s what’s best, because it’s the way it’s always been, and because…because they believe I’m broken and don’t know better.”
“Because you’re autistic?” he guessed.
She flinched and nodded, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know you knew.”
“You know I don’t care.”
“You’re the only one. I wasn’t diagnosed until I was fifteen. My parents hated the label, thought it made me defunct. To me it was a relief. Finally, a reason I was different. Before that everyone said I was crazy.” She tapped her temple. “Why doesn’t she talk? Why doesn’t she cry or laugh? Why does she count everything, memorize everything? The job at the agency is the first time anyone has ever appreciated my computer brain. Except maybe Blue.” They shared a smile. He reached up to caress her face.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen when this is over, but promise me you won’t let anyone make you marry Ruben. You have a sweet, soft heart, too good and too big to be wasted on a bully who can’t see it.”
“Ruben won’t ever marry me now,” she said cheerfully. “Divorced women are worth less than autistic ones.”
“Hallelujah,” he said, and she laughed.
“His face when he thought someone he believed was a liability was wanted by someone like you,” she said.
“He should have been more shocked you would want someone like me. Proof his hamster died and the wheel has stopped turning. Although I guess his haircut was all the proof we needed.”
She giggled and pressed her face to his good shoulder. “Leo, you’re so funny.”
He tipped her face and kissed her eyelids and the tip of her nose. She stared at him, unblinking and owlish. “Was that kissing?”
“No, you’re not ready for kissing. That’s part of the buildup to kissing.”
“Why is there a buildup to kissing?” she asked.
“Because sometimes anticipation is the best part,” he said.
“That wasn’t in any of the books I read,” she said.
“We’re going off script,” he replied.
“I’m not good at winging it,” she said.
“That’s why you have me. It’s my specialty,” he said.
She gave a contented little sigh and nestled closer. “I should get dressed. This is the longest I’ve ever been in my nightgown, I think.”
“It’s seven in the morning,” he said.
“I know. So decadent.”
“Stick with me, kid, and I’ll have you sleeping ‘til noon.”
“Is this what you do when we’re apart? On our days off?” she asked.
“No, I…” what did he do? His weekends always seemed to pass somehow and then it was Monday again and he was unable to account for the days between. One thing he knew for certain, they were not relaxing. His body felt like his fight-or-flight mechanism had been stuck in the on position since birth. This was the first time he could ever remember feeling calm and relaxed, safe and at peace.
“Maybe I don’t ever want to go back,” he blurted.
“Then don’t,” she said simply.
“But what about our job?” he asked.
“It was always going to be temporary. You’re my transition guy. What you do next is your decision. What do you want to do next?”
“I have no idea. But I like this feeling. I like not sneaking, lying, shooting, fighting, tailing. It’s kind of fun not being a spy for once.”
“I know what you want,” Esther said.
“What do I want?” he asked, half jokingly, half hopefully.
“You want the same thing I want. You want normal.”
He frowned, not for him, but for her. “You’re so much better than normal, Esther. You’re extraordinary.” He tapped her genius brain, able to do what so many others couldn’t, to see patterns, details no one else could.
“Back at you, Leo.” When she nestled closer, pressing her nose into its spot, he could almost believe her. But the feeling was gone before it could take root.