twenty-six

Nathan stood up and placed his hands on his lower back for a stretch. He’d turned on all the lights, creating a cozy studio oasis against the damp and wind. He had the house to himself. Even better, he’d spoken with Annie. After an awkward start, she’d agreed to accompany him to Ennis after Zoe returned with the car.

“Let me pick you up,” she said. “I like driving.”

“You’re grand. It’s my errand. I’ll pick you up and drop you off.”

“Nathan—” She hesitated. “It’s about Zoe, I’m guessing. You want to keep me secret.”

“That obvious, eh?” He’d woken this morning feeling somewhat alive, as if he’d slept decently for a few hours. It was a miracle. She was a miracle. He rushed in, words overtaking him. “I want to see you. Yesterday was—”

“Yes?”

“Yesterday was pure madness. We both know I was odder than a one-eyed potato.” Annie laughed, that sound like chimes. “I would like to know you better, without hassle or interference, that’s all.”

At some point, he’d explain about Zoe. If not everything then at least how complicated it was between them—complicated in a way that he avoided acknowledging to himself most of the time.

He sealed a plastic container filled with white crackle glaze and shifted it under his worktable. He had thirty-six pots glazed and ready for firing now. Zoe would be back by noon, which gave him plenty of time to pick up Annie at one o’clock.

After washing up in the kitchen, he wrapped his injured hand in a clean bandage while eyeing the countertop knife block that Zoe had gifted him. The knives pricked at him, inciting his imagination and kickstarting his terror. Zoe should have known displaying them like that would trouble him. The knives were best kept in a drawer, out of sight.

He hesitated, then pulled the knives out of the holder. He settled an old placemat in a drawer and laid the knives down side by side on top of it.

Now for the knife block itself. Zoe had bought a nice one. A lidless wooden box filled with black sand so that the knives wouldn’t dull as fast. He set it beside the phone and stuck a message pad and various pens into the sand. Nothing wrong with that.

By the time Zoe returned, he’d boxed up ten finished vases for the gallery in Ennis that managed to stay in business despite the crap economy. Her voice called out, followed by trotting footsteps. She arrived with hand pressed against her chest. “You’re after scaring the skin off me. Don’t do that.”

“Here I am, same as most days.”

She dipped her shoulders, one then the other, to slip her coat off. “No, that. In there.” She pointed with her chin. “The knives. They’re gone. Vanished. What was I supposed to think?”

Nathan taped a box closed. The stitches on his forehead itched. Now he wasn’t sure why he’d hidden the knives away. His squeamishness wasn’t related to what he might do. Or perhaps it was.

He shook his head and reached for the next box. No. Zoe couldn’t have mislaid the facts of the matter. It should have been obvious enough to her.

“What are you doing there?” she asked.

“I’ve got to make a gallery run.”

“Fun!” Zoe clapped her hands. “Give me three minutes to change.”

A sensation like doom crawled up Nathan’s spine. He couldn’t force the no out of his mouth if he tried. “Go on then,” he managed.

“Three minutes, tops,” she called as she bounded up the stairs.

Detesting himself, Nathan pulled out his mobile and texted Annie. Can’t make it. I’ll explain later.