51
Do you trust him?”
Harry and Ava were alone. After Louis had gone home, Kenichi, Shizue, and Mae had gone to bed, while Cleo retired to the caravan. Harry and Ava were taking a walk together. It was a chilly, damp night, and they trudged through the woods until they were standing beside a little streambed. The water glittered eerily silver in the moonlight, while everything else around them was reduced to flat black shadows. They were sitting on an old tree stump together when Ava broke the silence.
“Even if he signs . . . do you trust him?” she repeated.
“Louis?” Harry asked, needlessly. “Absolutely,” he answered in a knee-jerk reaction. Then, after a brief pause, “I don’t know,” he said, relenting. “I think I do.”
“He needed the money he didn’t get from that Hollywood business. He . . . might blame you for that.”
“He does,” Harry confirmed. “But he’s been working hard to be the bigger man.”
“His family has poisoned him against you,” Ava continued quietly. She shook her head. “Over a lot of years.”
Harry didn’t say anything.
Sitting side by side, they both peered into the dark woods that lay before them, the scent of wet oak leaves thick on the night air. The scene was peaceful, but somehow the stillness was only adding to Ava’s feelings of panic. She couldn’t lose Harry; she’d only just discovered how she felt about him. Meeting both of them at the same time—Louis and Harry—had confused things. Ava genuinely liked Louis—she felt at ease around him—and it was clear from the start how much he admired her. Ava felt grateful, and perhaps even somewhat protective of Louis’s sensitive heart. Harry, on the other hand, had done nothing but tease her, contradict her, and challenge her at first. He could make her angry like no one else could. She thought she could barely tolerate him.
But then . . . they’d gone up for a flight, and several more after that, until Ava found herself counting the days in between. Harry had a funny way about him; in private, he never showed off. He also never belittled Ava in any way, treating her like a shrinking violet or a girl to be courted. Instead, he insisted she handle the stick herself, then slowly but surely taught her how to take off and land the Stearman. When Earl abandoned them, Harry drove the Model A and caravan straight to his family’s property, reassuring Ava they would be welcome and safe there.
Ava found herself thinking about those flights—and about Harry—when they were not together. And yet, despite all the time they’d secretly spent together, Harry had never indicated that his newfound friendliness went any further—not since the day Ava had agreed to go on Louis’s arm to the town dance in Sonoma. If tension cropped up between Ava and Harry, Harry changed the subject to Louis, a habit that left Ava confused and half-convinced she did love Louis after all.
But the confusion she’d felt had evaporated the second she glimpsed the evacuation notice pasted up on the general store in town. In that moment, as the sarsaparilla bottles clattered to the ground and smashed to pieces, Ava suddenly knew: It was Harry she couldn’t live without. She cared for Louis—she cared for Louis deeply—but as a friend.
Now she wanted to set the record straight, to get it all out in the open. Harry might tell her he didn’t want her—he probably would, Ava thought—but it didn’t matter, so long as he stopped trying to fob her off on Louis. If he tried to do that one more time, Ava was sure she would scream.
She mulled over how to begin, staring at the shimmering silver surface of the creek.
“I kissed him,” she finally said. “Louis, I mean.”
Harry didn’t say anything.
“At Farrow’s party,” Ava added. “He kissed me . . . and I . . . I suppose I kissed him back.”
“I know,” Harry said quietly.
“But you don’t know,” Ava replied, her voice firm.
“It’s all right,” Harry said.
“It’s all right?”
He pressed on. “Louis is kind and decent, he’s—”
“Not you.”
Ava felt Harry’s body jolt with surprise as she said the words. Not you.
“The kiss didn’t mean anything, Harry,” she continued, intent on driving her point home. “And I realize the reason it didn’t mean anything is because Louis is not you. Haven’t you ever thought about . . . us?”
“No.” He shook his head.
Ava had braced herself for this, but even so, watching him shake his head now, she felt the early sting of rejection.
“You deserve someone who is more . . . like yourself . . .” Harry was floundering for words now. “Someone who is . . .”
“What?” she demanded.
“Someone who isn’t about to be detained in a camp somewhere,” Harry answered. “Louis will be here for you.”
“But I’d rather you were,” Ava said. “Do you understand? I don’t want Louis, I don’t choose Louis. I choose you.”
Harry was silent. Ava rose to her feet, angry.
“Dammit, Harry, you’re brave about everything else in life—why not about this?”
He stood and faced her. Their expressions were lost in the dark, but he seemed angry, too, Ava thought—though why, she could not comprehend.
“What on earth do you think I want to do? Don’t you understand letting you go is being brave?”
It didn’t make sense. Ava was annoyed. She let out a huge sigh of exasperation and turned to go. But as she did, she felt Harry’s hand on her arm, suddenly turning her back around. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. It was a very different kiss from the one she’d shared with Louis.
Standing in the trees some distance away, Louis watched them, a silent witness. He bristled as he watched their two bodies come together. He’d been restless, thinking matters over, and taken a walk in the wooded area at the border of the Thorn and Yamada properties, drawn to the old childhood meeting spot he’d shared with Harry. He’d planned to sit and think things over, perhaps remind himself of their friendship—old and new.
And now, here Harry was. But not alone. Louis stood there, frozen, unable to take a step closer. Unable to make his presence known. He had seen and heard things. All of them things he could neither unsee nor unhear.
Eventually, Harry and Ava walked back in the direction of the Yamada homestead. Louis remained, still as a statue. When nearly a half hour passed without a single sign of another human being, Louis began to move again. He turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction—back in the direction of the Thorn farmhouse and everything it represented.