herself, and with that she folded the cover of her sketch pad and set it aside. The time for games was over.
“Would you like one of these?” he asked.
Her gaze followed his hand to see that while she had been drawing, he had been preparing the picnic. It was the most extravagant picnic she had ever seen, with china plates, sliced strawberries, and a pot of tea steaming on a little stand. He held out a plate of cheese sandwiches, and she took one, setting her pencil down.
“You’ve gone to a lot of effort,” she said.
“It’s my pleasure.” He took a small bite of a sandwich. Crumbs settled on his chin. “It’s just how I imagined it: a beautiful day, you drawing as you are, a perfect setting. Don’t you think?”
“It is a beautiful place,” she conceded, unsure what to add.
“You see, this is what I do, Elizabeth.” He took a breath, seemed a little nervous. “I make my plans a reality. When I was small, I wanted to be a doctor, and now here I am, close to having my own practice. Your father keeps asking me if I am ready; it won’t be long, I’m sure of it. And yesterday I promised you a wonderful day of drawing, and that’s what we’ve got. If I promise something, I deliver,” he said, taking another bite.
“Well, that’s very impressive,” she said. He nodded. His manner failed to reassure her, and there was an uneasy feeling taking shape, like when her father had questioned her about Tom, or when Tom’s mother had walked in on them that morning. A sense that something was afoot that she could not control. “You’ve had a lot of good opportunities, I suppose.”
“Or perhaps I created them, Lizzy.” Edging closer to her, he upset the edge of the picnic blanket. He paused to straighten it, mopped up a splash of spilled tea. All Elizabeth could do was watch before he continued. “Dreams must be fulfilled. They are what set us apart from the animals. I know you have dreams too, and despite what your father tells me about what a wonderful wife you will make, I don’t want to marry you for your housekeeping or cooking.” He winked, lowered his voice. “I’d hazard a guess that neither will be much good. But you see, the truth of the matter is quite simple, Lizzy. I am in awe of you.” He nodded, as if she had disagreed. For a second she could hardly breathe. “I have been ever since the moment I laid eyes on you. Of course, I took you for a beauty, but you are so much more than that,” he said, taking her hands in his. “That’s why I like you so much. Why I . . .” he continued, stumbling. “Why I love you.”
Inside, her stomach was bottoming out, curdling like milk left out on a hot day. His confession had shrunk the world around them so that only she and Tom and James existed in that moment.
“James,” she said softly. “We barely know each other.”
“Sometimes you don’t need to know somebody well to know they are right for you.” That was something they could agree on, she realized. “I know your love of art will always come above a clean house or cooked meal. I know your Hevva cakes are dry and always burned at the bottom. But that’s okay,” he said, smiling to himself. “I did my two years’ national service. I know how to clean, cook, and shine my own shoes to a standard that won’t get me in trouble with my seniors.” His expression changed, turned serious. It was coupled with a movement to touch her face. Still frozen, she didn’t move as his fingers brushed her cheek. “And I know that when your mother’s confusions worsen it hurts you on a physical level, and that some days you can barely stand to talk to her for the fear she will forget your name.” Elizabeth couldn’t look at him then, couldn’t believe that in the short time they had been together he had seen so much of who she really was. “But perhaps most importantly of all in relation to this conversation, I know that you don’t love me.”
Their eyes met, Elizabeth drawn like a magnet. He was pulling at the open neck of his shirt, fussing at the blanket. The smile that seemed to exist on a near permanent basis was still there, but it was an effort