Chapter 28

 

The next morning, Amy made her way into the kitchen with a zombie-worthy shuffle.

Aunt Bay looked up from her newspaper and huffed. “No work for you today. If Michael has other ideas, I’ll—”

“I agree completely.” His voice came from right behind Amy.

She smothered a yelp and stepped sideways to let him pass. How had she not heard his approach?

Michael stopped beside her, his face serious. “We’re closed today. Period. If someone rings the gallery bell, I’ll deal with them.” He pulled a bouquet of red roses from behind his back and held them out. “I didn’t have the chance to give you these yesterday, but I’ve kept them in water.”

A dozen silky crimson blooms, partially-opened to release their sweet scent. Amy clenched her hands by her sides. “From you? Or from Gilles?” Was this some new quirk in Michael’s ploy to tie her to his dead friend?

He paled. “From me. To say thank you — and I’m sorry — for Saturday.”

Amy narrowed her eyes at the flowers. “Red roses are for love. You made it perfectly clear how you feel, Saturday night.” She fled from the room.

“Amy—”

“Let her go.” Aunt Bay’s sharp tone carried to the stairs.

Michael’s voice rumbled low, defeated. Still in the kitchen.

Moving as fast as her hip allowed, Amy escaped to her bedroom and shut herself in.

A while later, fingernails tapped at her door. “Michael’s gone out for a bit, child. Come and have some breakfast.”

Amy wanted to stay in the rocking chair and keep staring out the window at the clouds over the water.

Aunt Bay tapped again. “Don’t make me bring you a tray. I’m not getting any younger.”

The woman could still run laps around her. Amy was maimed, like Troy’s article had said. Damaged in body and in heart, loving a man who wanted to bind her to her dead fiancé.

Hopelessness pressed like a physical weight until she could barely breathe. Amy gave in to it for a slow count of one hundred, then pushed up from the chair. One thing she’d learned from her mom’s illness — a few minutes’ surrender was sometimes necessary, but indulging in a full-length pity party only made things harder.

Amy turned the doorknob and called downstairs. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

When she entered the room, Aunt Bay turned from the counter. “Sit. Tea, toast, and eggs coming up.”

“You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I choose to bless you with a little extra care. If we’re lucky, it’ll keep me from saying something I’ll regret later.”

Amy reached for the pepper grinder and slid it from hand to hand. “I was out of line. Poor Michael. But I can’t live like this much longer.”

Aunt Bay brought tea in a china cup and saucer.

Amy looked up. “Why so fancy?”

“I want you to stop and think. A bit of elegance can do that.”

It was a pretty cup, robin’s-egg blue with a delicate lace pattern. Amy slid her finger around the rim until the heat forced her away. Think. Not about her own pain. Nor about Michael’s. Something had to give, and soon, but not by way of an Emilie-style outburst. If it meant her leaving, that needed to be a rational choice carried out in a civilized manner to minimize the hurt on both sides.

Steam swirled across the surface of the tea. “Aunt Bay? Does God care about the details of our lives? Does He have an opinion about our choices, as long as we’re not disobeying Him?”

“He tells us to trust Him and not tackle life based on our own understanding. The Good Shepherd goes with his flock to the pasture. He doesn’t just turn them loose and hope they’ll stay out of trouble.” Aunt Bay scraped butter across fresh toast.

“So how do I know what He wants me to do? To stay or to go, and how to be safe while Del takes his own sweet time collecting evidence?”

Michael’s aunt set a plate of toast and scrambled eggs at Amy’s spot and took the chair across from her. “First of all, God’s in this for the long term. He wants a relationship with you more than He wants to answer your questions. You — and I — need to learn to listen. And to trust Him.”

“But how?”

“His Word shows us right and wrong, but it also reveals His character. The more we know about Him, the easier it is to believe His promises and His presence. You’re used to handling everything on your own, and He wants to teach you to work with Him.”

Amy picked up a toast triangle and pushed the eggs into a pile in the middle of the plate. “How do I work with Him about these threats? And about Michael?”

“Prayer is a good place to start. Ask God to involve Himself, and commit to doing what He says — even if you don’t like how He works things out.”

The first mouthful of eggs wedged in Amy’s throat. Aunt Bay was preparing her to let Michael go. But wasn’t that what she’d already known had to happen? Amy swallowed the lump of food. “You think Michael’s okay. I think he’s making me into some kind of living shrine to Gilles. How do we find out what God thinks?”

Aunt Bay huffed. “I suspect God wishes He could knock the pair of you upside the head and shake some sense loose. But He saves the dramatics for key points in history.”

“If Michael is healthy, why is he so… possessive? It’s like he feels this obligation to care for me, but he can’t let me leave Gilles in the past and move on.” Amy shifted her tea to the side, sloshing some into the saucer. “Did you see his face when I asked if the roses were from Gilles? He doesn’t want me to know what he’s doing, but he’s deliberately tying me to a dead man.”

“So that’s what the question meant. Child, if I couldn’t figure it out, how do you know he did? Perhaps he thought you expected Gilles to communicate from the grave.”

Amy ate without enjoyment. Was it possible her overreaction this morning had confused Michael more than accusing him? He was clueless about Emilie’s and her feelings toward him. What other nuances might he miss? Should she flat-out tell him she loved him? Explain how pushing her back to Gilles came across as rejection? But if Amy was right about his obsession, this might be the ultimate betrayal of his friend. Could a fragile mind survive it?

She gulped her now-cool tea and carried her dishes to the sink. Aunt Bay had the frying pan soaking. Amy put her things in the dishwasher, and plunged her hands into the soapy water to wash the pan. “Thank you for breakfast. And for still loving me.”

“Child, the problem is we love you too much.”

Amy’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She grabbed a towel to dry her hands, and checked the caller ID. Troy — she hadn’t called him last night. She answered before it could go to voice mail. “Troy, I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

“No worries. Are you alone?”

“No, why?”

“I want you to sound like what I say is a great idea. Even if you think I’m nuts.”

“Sure.” She added a smile for good measure. “What’s up?”

“It’s about Saturday. I saw your face after Michael’s stunt. He has no idea how you feel about him.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sarcasm. Not good. “Sorry.”

“Come on a date with me. To shake him up.”

“That’s a great idea.” Not. Had she managed an eager tone like he asked? Amy walked to the window so Aunt Bay couldn’t see her expression. Leaving the room would look suspicious.

“It’ll break his rules and he’ll be upset, but do you want him to see you’re over Gilles, or not? Nothing else is working.”

What could she say to that? Nothing positive. Amy’s breakfast turned over. Troy’s scheme could destroy everything. “When?”

“Tonight, if you’re free. Or tomorrow. I’m working days this week, for a change.”

“I’ll let you know, okay?”

Troy chuckled. “Think about it. Pray, too — Michael told me about that, and I’m pumped to hear more. Honestly, this isn’t a weird pick-up. Michael’s a great guy and a good friend, and I love him too much to let him stay miserable.”

“Is he?”

“Trust me, Amy. He is. I need to get back to work. Text me your answer? We can do any time six or later. Dinner and maybe a movie. And talking.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you.” She hung up and turned back to the sink. Aunt Bay had left the room. Amy finished washing the egg pan, as slowly as she could. God, what do You think of this? Troy’s plan would shatter the unnatural peace she’d already weakened. She didn’t dare agree.