Back at home, in the kitchen, Gerald can’t keep his eyes off Bea. All day, since he first saw her outside the church, he has been waiting for this moment. For everyone else to disappear. For Linda to go home. To have Bea all to himself. And here she is, sitting in her seat, her slender fingers wrapped around a cup of tea. It’s as though she never left. And yet. He feels at a loss for words. He’s having trouble looking her in the face. So familiar and yet so different. Mother, though, can’t stop touching her. It’s you, Mother says, and Bea smiles. It’s me, Mrs. G. I’m here. I’m back. You must stay the night, Mother insists. Please don’t go back to that hotel. We can pick up your things tomorrow. Your room is just as you left it. Kathleen sleeps there, but it’s all just the same.
She looks like you, G, Bea says. I couldn’t believe it. I saw her walking down the aisle, and I knew, instantly, who she was. Jack, though, he looks more like Rose. They’re nice children, Mother says. Maybe you can spend some time with them while you’re here. Get to know them a bit. She squeezes Bea’s hand. William was a good father, she says. I wasn’t sure, you know, how that would all turn out. I always knew this one—and she nods her head toward Gerald—would be—will be!—a wonderful father. I wasn’t sure about William. But how he loved those children.
Bea nods. I’m not surprised, she says. They’re quiet for a moment and then Bea yawns, covering her mouth with her hand, and shakes her head. I’m sorry, she says, I’m past exhausted. Tomorrow? We can talk more tomorrow. She stands and puts her hands on Mother’s shoulders. I’ll take you up on your kind offer, she says, for tonight at least. Mother walks with her toward the door, her hand tucked into Bea’s elbow. Let’s find you something to change into, she says, and at the door, Bea turns and waves. Night, G, she says. See you in the morning.
Gerald sits and listens to the two of them head up the stairs. The floorboards creak as they move above his head. He knows he should go back to his own house. Linda is waiting. But Bea is here, and William is gone. He turns off the light and stays in the quiet, dark warmth of the kitchen, his stocking feet resting on William’s chair.