Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Still, as she watched him disappear around the bend, another thought occurred to her.
Could he be connected to the issue with the shepherd’s hut?
Perhaps he was the man making the claim.
If he’d chosen to deal with it through her lawyer rather than approach her directly, that might explain why he kept appearing without ever speaking to her.
It was probably nothing. Or, at least, nothing threatening.
She went back inside and locked the door behind her before retrieving her phone. The sight of Blane’s name made her smile.
She could still remember the beautiful, unguarded smile on his face when Sifis had chosen him.
There really was no other word for it. The little dog had spotted Blane and immediately decided that he was the one, flinging himself into his lap and wriggling around there in a way that, if Bea were honest, had made her rather envious.
She started typing.
Bea: Hello, darling. Sifis is doing wonderfully.
I spent some time with him yesterday. I don’t think he’s entirely convinced I’m one of his people yet, but he seems willing to tolerate me.
Oh, and you need to keep an eye out for the post. I bought some baklava on my way to the shelter yesterday and found a courier who promised they could get it to you in a couple of days.
I didn’t dare trust the ordinary post with it.
I thought you might end up with a box of mold by the time it reached Montana.
She wanted to say so much more, but the message was already getting ridiculously long. She could save the rest for another time.
She hit send. The sight of the three little dots appearing almost immediately shouldn’t have affected her as much as it did, but somehow they felt like a real connection.
She hadn’t simply sent words away into the void to sit there until Blane woke up or finished whatever he was doing.
Somewhere half a world away, he had his phone in his hand too.
He was here with her for these few seconds, waiting and typing while she waited and watched.
It meant far too much.
Blane: Hey, darlin’. You didn’t need to do that. Must’ve cost you a fortune.
She smiled.
Bea: Hello, darling. I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to. I know how much you like it.
Blane: I do. Still didn’t need to go to all that trouble for me.
Bea: It isn’t all for you, darling. Brooke has a claim on it too.
The dots appeared again.
Blane: Fair enough. I’ll make sure she gets some.
She laughed.
Bea: Half, Blane. I sent you half each.
This time his reply came almost at once.
Blane: Like I said. I’ll make sure she gets some.
Bea stood in her kitchen laughing at the screen, and for the first time in over a month, she almost felt as though he was here with her, as though the distance had briefly thinned enough that she could almost hear that deep, gravelly voice of his.
Her phone rang, and for a moment her heart soared, but then she saw the name on the screen.
She smiled as she answered. “Hello, Meg.”
“Well, you sound disgustingly cheerful.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You answered the phone smiling. I can hear it.”
“That’s ridiculous. You cannot hear a smile.”
“I’ve known you for fifty years. I can hear several different varieties of smile. That one was a man.”
Bea looked down at Blane’s last message and failed to hold in another smile. “Oh, stop it.”
“Have you heard from Blane?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it.” Meg sounded pleased with herself. “What’s he done?”
“Nothing. We were only texting.”
“Only texting,” Meg repeated. “And yet you sound like a teenager whose boyfriend just rang the house phone.”
“He is not my boyfriend.”
There was a tiny pause.
“No,” Meg said more gently. “What is he?”
Bea leaned back against the counter. That was the trouble, wasn’t it? “I don’t know.”
“Do you still talk often?”
“Most days now. Not every day. Sometimes a couple go by. And our messages are getting absurdly long.” She smiled. “We may have to graduate to email soon.”
Meg laughed. “Good grief. Very modern.”
“It is, actually.”
“And do you miss him?”
The answer rose so quickly that Bea didn’t have time to protect herself from it. “Yes.”
Meg went quiet.
Bea stared across the kitchen toward the open terrace doors. “Terribly, if you want the truth.”
“I usually do.”
“I know.”
“And?”
Bea frowned. “And what?”
“You know perfectly well what.”
She did. Of course she did. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Meg.”
Her friend waited.
Bea sighed. “Yes. Obviously I love him.” There. She’d finally said it out loud. She held her breath, but nothing in the kitchen changed. The house didn’t tilt nor did the sky fall in.
Meg merely said, very softly, “I thought you might.”
Bea swallowed. “That isn’t really the problem, though, is it?”
“No?”
“No. Loving him doesn’t magically make Montana closer to Crete. It doesn’t make his life here, or mine there. And I’m not giving this up, Meg. I can’t.”
“I know.”
“And I would never ask him to give up his life either.”
“I know that too.”
Bea looked around the room. Her kitchen. Her house. Her keys on the counter. Her little car outside. Greek notes still sticking out of her bag. A life she had chosen for herself, piece by piece, and loved more every day.
“I suppose that’s the ridiculous thing,” she said. “I finally built exactly what I wanted.”
Meg didn’t interrupt.
Bea smiled sadly. “I just didn’t know, when I built it, that somewhere out there was an enormous, grumpy American, and that I’d want him in it too.”