18

It was done. Anna, once again in her long coat, slept peacefully in the truck’s cab, slept like a baby full of warm milk. Parrish had run the garden hose from the exhaust to the truck’s window and taped it in place, sealing the window airtight. A job well done.

He came back into the living room and sank into the armchair. Later there would be work, a hard, cold business with nerve-racking risks, but for the moment he could relax.

He stretched his arms over his head, smiled ruefully at the wine bottle on the coffee table. Anna’s little peace offering—her fancy wine. He picked up the bottle of wine and studied it. He was no connoisseur of wines, and Anna certainly wasn’t either. Still, it did have the look of something expensive.

He couldn’t pull the cork out with his fingers, but he managed to get a hold of it with his teeth and slowly work it out. Some of the wine spilled on his pants. Hardly elegant. He laughed at himself.

He poured the wine into his glass and held it to the light. It was dark red.

He had loved her. But he was a realist, like his father. Sometimes you had to amputate. Love doesn’t solve everything. “No way,” Parrish told the empty room.

The wine smelled like flowers, hot and sweet.

He sipped the wine slowly. It had a strange, sensual texture, seemed to move of its own accord, caressing his tongue, exploring his throat, his stomach.

His eyes fell on the white envelope on the table. Of course, it was what Anna had been holding in her hand when she came to the door. He lifted it up. The single word, IMPORTANT, was printed on the envelope.

Amused, Parrish addressed the room again, “Ah, let’s just see what’s important, shall we?”

There was a single page of ruled paper, and the handwriting was large and executed with care.

Parrish sipped the wine and read:

Dear Friends,

Please do not grieve for us. Richard and I have chosen to be with our baby. We have taken our earthly lives in order to be with him. There is no sin in this. We act with duty and love. I know that our baby, David, will be glad to see us, and I hope …

The letter slipped away from his fingers. The strength fled from his hands. Parrish discovered he could not stand up. It was as though invisible hands gripped his shoulders, dark angels held him down.

Anna—