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BRIAN
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THE NEXT DAY ELIZABETH and I resumed our evening phone calls. She told me about her nighttime excursions to the Baker Block. The report she’d faxed to me was thorough and filled with relevant data.
Although I desired to know everything about her, I let Elizabeth decide how much she wanted to tell me. The manila envelope stayed unopened in my desk drawer. Even if the background check was supposedly based on public sources, it still seemed like an invasion of Elizabeth’s privacy.
Our talks had become more and more intimate. It crossed my mind that we were sort of long-distance dating. I didn’t know what to think about it except that it felt good. Time would show us where we were heading.
And then one night with a single sentence Elizabeth turned my emotions inside-out and helped me realize I wanted much more from her than flirting over the phone.
We had been talking about our interests—she liked to bake, and I’d told her about my furniture-making hobby—when I heard a car pulling into her driveway. And then she’d said, “Can you hold for a moment, my date has just arrived.”
I almost dropped the phone.
In an instant, I pictured her in another man’s arms, her lips on his in a deep kiss, his arms around her. I felt a rush of jealous rage so strong and unexpected that it took me a long moment to calm down enough to pick up the tease in her voice. Holding my breath, I started identifying the muffled sounds on the other end of the line.
She hadn’t put me on hold. I could imagine she stuck her phone into the pocket of her shirt since I could hear her heart loud and clear. And everything else. Her hurried steps. The opening of the door. Two other sets of steps, a child’s and a man’s, the child throwing himself on her. His excited voice calling her name, her fast heartbeats when she hugged him. The man’s kiss on her cheek and his voice saying, “You’re an angel. Off I go. Molly’s waiting for me.”
“See you tomorrow, Sam,” I heard her say. “Come on, Jacob, let’s go to the living room.”
I exhaled with relief, my heart bursting with sudden euphoria. She was babysitting someone’s son. He was Elizabeth’s date.
She had gotten me all riled up on purpose.
Not concerned about her privacy anymore—the little vixen didn’t deserve that—I listened to their happy chatter.
“Now, Jacob,” she’d said, putting him down, “can you wait a little bit until I finish this phone call? Here is the remote. Find your favorite channel. Later we’ll make ebelskiver.”
“What’s ebelskiver?” the boy asked.
Danish pancakes, shaped like small balls, I wanted to say. I liked them, too.
“Fluffy Danish pancakes, like small balls,” Elizabeth explained to her little guest.
“Who are you talking to?” I heard the boy’s voice again.
“My boss,” Elizabeth answered.
“Are you going to marry him?”
For the second time in less than five minutes, my adrenaline skyrocketed, and my heart threatened to jump out of my chest.
Elizabeth coughed. I could still hear the two of them, but the sound was more muffled now. She likely covered the speaker with her hand.
“No, Jacob. I said he was my boss, not my boyfriend or fiancé. And I really shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.”
“Dad’s cousin married her boss, but I’m glad you won’t marry yours because when I grow up, I’m going to marry you.”
This time I covered the receiver with my hand and laughed aloud.
“Well, Mr. Wakefield,” Elizabeth said, “I’m flattered, but don’t you think I’ll be too old for you when you grow up?”
“But I’ll also be old when I grow up.”
I heard her ruffling his hair and kissing him. “Let’s talk about it in about twenty years. Now let me finish talking to my boss first.”
She explained to me who her young visitor was and their plans for the night. “Sam, Jacob’s dad, has a dinner date tonight and then he’s working the night shift,” she said. “Jacob’s staying for a sleepover.” Sam Wakefield was the Rosenthal sheriff, and Elizabeth’s friend, I’d learned. And since he had a dinner date with that Molly, I decided I didn’t mind him. As long as he didn’t take Elizabeth out for dinner.
“How old is Jacob?” I asked.
“Four. Cute as a button. And so smart.”
“You like children.” This was a statement more than a question.
“I do,” she said, her voice filled with longing. “Very much.”
“I remember when my son was that age,” I said, smiling. “He wanted to be a ship’s captain. I made him a treehouse that looked like a ship. God, it seems like yesterday.”
I knew that my general reluctance to talk about my son puzzled her, so she quickly seized the opportunity. “What’s his name?”
“Jack.” Before she could ask more about my son, I said, “I don’t want to rob your young visitor of your company. When does Jacob go to sleep?”
“Usually around nine, but tonight we’ll make an exception.”
I heard her hugging him and showering him with kisses. I realized that I didn’t have her full attention anymore and felt a bit disappointed.
“Ah, a slumber party,” I said. “Then call me after you put him to bed if it’s not too late for you. You still have my number, don’t you?”
Her heart started beating faster.
“Elizabeth?”
“I’m here,” she said quietly. “No, it’s not too late. It’s just that you always call me ... I’ll call you around ten, then, Mr. Nouri.”
“Please, call me Khalid.”
The loud thumping of her heart was the sweetest music to my ears.
“Alright. Khalid.”