hate second guessing myself. I hate the responsibility. But I do it for us. For everyone we will meet who might need me. I do it for you. I won’t stand by and watch anyone else die that I could have helped.”
I don’t know what to say.
“How did your family die?” I ask softly. He has never discussed them with me before. I get the feeling it’s now or never, in terms of finding out.
“Cholera. One of the worst ways to go. My mum, father, sisters and brothers. I was the only one who survived it.” He rubs his face tiredly. “Now do you see why I am finding out as much as possible about this century? Why I work so much? Why I’m angry you took the car?”
“Yes,” my voice is small and miserable. “I’m sorry, Is.” I move towards him and wrap my arms around his waist. He holds me and rests his chin on my head the way he always does. I feel his hand on the small of my waist through my satin dress. I have long forgotten my dress now and even my night out.
There is knocking on the door.
Israel pulls away and lets me go. He looks even more tired now and sinks down in a chair at the table. I go to answer the door, tripping on my way over in the blasted heels.
“Hello,” I tell Luke as I swing open the door and let him in. He has dressed up too, I’m relieved to see; in a starched burgundy colored collared shirt and slacks. The color of his shirt and my dress even match well. I had a fear that he would be wearing his frayed jeans and I would feel like an overdressed idiot. He looks at me and whistles.
“That’s some dress, Gray,” he clears his throat. “You look stunning.”
Aha! Stunning! That was the word I was hoping to hear after the fiasco in the kitchen.
“Really?” I find myself turning around like a show-off. What is wrong with me?
“Yes,” his face is wreathed in smiles. I can smell his familiar scent of soap and spiciness. “Very much so. Are you ready?”
“Mmhmm,” I start to walk towards him but am stopped by Luke glancing over my shoulder with his friendly smile.
“Luke Dawes,” he says, extending his hand to someone behind me.
I am sandwiched in between him and Israel suddenly.
“Israel Rhode,” Israel clasps his hand but his smile is not as ready as Luke’s.
“Ah. You, um, live here? With Sonnet?” Luke asks.
“Yes.”
“Ah,” Luke says again, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t meet you when I was here the other night.”
“I was probably working.”
“Ah.”
“Yes.”
“Well!” I chirp in. “I might be gone late, Is. I’ll see you when I get back, okay?”
I practically shove Luke out of the doorway and speed walk down the rickety steps of my porch.
Luke catches up and takes my elbow. “He looks like someone you won in a raffle,” he says. “Bit intimidating, don’t you think?”
“Who, Israel?” I laugh. “I guess so, when you first meet him. He’s grumpy because I stole his car. He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
“Car thief, huh?” Luke pretends to look impressed. “You’re a mystery, Gray. Speaking of cars, this is mine.” He stops in front of a silver pickup truck and opens the passenger door for me. I sigh, looking at my feet and tight dress and wonder how to climb up in a ladylike fashion. Finally I manage to struggle my way up and in. Dressing up is for the birds, I think. Luke crosses in front of the pickup and gets in the driver’s side.
Driving is wonderful, I think. Driving is a miracle. It takes me forever and a day to walk to the coffee shop and we are there in less than ten minutes in Luke’s car. He parks nearby and opens the door to the truck for me again, helping me down by holding onto my elbow. I almost step on his foot in my heels, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Inside, the small place is bustling with people. The artists stand proudly by their works and everyone mills up to talk with them and compliment them. There are caterers in their pressed black and white uniforms with large platters of wine and tiny bits of finger food. I help myself to olives and cheese squares on a frilled toothpick, but leave the wine alone. I am unsure that I could pass for the legal drinking age, and