are often surprisingly resilient when tragedies happen. We’re animals like all the others—priority one is to keep living. And if you’re going to live, you may as well try to find happiness. Or re-find it.”
“That’s true.”
“Other people do move on, and rebuild their lives.”
“That’s true too.”
“How does he react to you when you try to talk to Thomas through him?”
“Well, he’d been resistant, but at the same time kind of humouring me, partly because he finds me attractive. But when I told him about his wife and child, he started to wonder. He agreed to read the medical texts I gave him, so that’s progress.”
“He finds you attractive. How do you know that?”
“I eavesdropped on him the other night. I didn’t do it deliberately, I was trapped in my back yard, not wanting him to see me.”
“Why was that?”
“Because he was drinking, as usual. He had a friend over, and I thought if he saw me he would say something idiotic, something to ridicule or mock me just to entertain his friend, so I sat on my little patch of lawn, out of sight below the fence, waiting for him to be distracted so I could slip back inside the house. I couldn’t help but listen. He called me gorgeous.” She smiled, a little embarrassed.
“And how did that make you feel?”
Meghan broke into a wide grin. “That’s the all-time classic therapist’s line, isn’t it?”
“These things are classics because they’re tried and true,” Anne smiled. “So. How did that make you feel?”
Meghan thought a moment. “It’s funny, you know. Coming from someone I’d been thinking of as kind of a loser, like Derek, I was flattered, but not totally flattered. He is good looking, I guess—I mean if I thought he was ugly I wouldn’t have cared less what he thought of me. But,” Meghan hesitated a moment. “I don’t know. If Thomas were to say it, I would feel totally flattered.”
“Why?”
She thought a moment, then said suddenly, “Am I in love with Thomas?”
“Only you would know. Are you?”
“Oh my God. I admire him, and feel such sympathy for him—his daughter has been so sick, and he’s so desperate to make her better, working so hard to help her get well. I want to comfort him, give him hugs. And then, just looking at him, apart from all that—the way he carries himself—it affects me, somehow. He’s very proud, I would say. Strong. And honest. And serious. I just wish I could be with him.”
“And what does Thomas think of you? Does he ever say?”
“He has. Several times. He’s called me a beauty, and also said he likes the way I carry myself. He thinks I walk elegantly, like a young doe.” She paused, enjoying the warmth of a pleasant reverie. She could see Thomas clearly in her mind, standing by the fireplace in Daphne’s chamber. “Now that Sylvanne’s making nice to him, he’s able to look at her more naturally, more comfortably. Last night they locked eyes, and it was eerie, but I felt he was looking through her, and seeing me. It was the first time I felt that.” She felt her pulse quicken, remembering and reliving that moment. “It’s just so totally unfair. Why do we have to be centuries apart? If he were here, I’d give him my love in a second.”
29
A small brook meandered across a field of golden wheat shimmering in the autumn breeze. Daphne rode in front, on her horse, her very own horse, a sweet old chestnut mare named Mathilde. Despite her protestation that she was a young lady, and should ride as ladies do, Thomas had insisted she wear a boy’s breeches and ride like a boy, straddling the saddle, that being the safer technique for a novice. Behind her he rode next to Sylvanne, who sat side-saddle on her big black horse, as a lady is expected to. Daphne reached the brook, and Thomas called out for her to wait there. When they caught up he allowed his horse to dip its head to the water and drink. He dismounted to take a drink himself in cupped hands.
“My mount is forever thirsty,” he said. “Look how he sucks it up by the gallon, like an elephant’s trunk.”
“Mine wants only to run and run,” Sylvanne replied.
“Let her run toward home then. It’s time we turned back.”
“One more jaunt!” Daphne pleaded excitedly.
“This is far enough,” he told her. “Beyond here the path narrows, the woods grow dense and wild.”