Page 14 of These Godly Lies
Anna knows without asking, that he timed his arrival purposefully. That he took her wish for them to get along to heart, regardless of how little faith he has in it. Under his arm, two gifts wrapped in red paper and gold trimmings snag her attention the moment he walks in the door.
Her lips are turned in a frown when he greets her with a kiss. They had agreed not to exchange.
Khiran smothers a grin. “Don’t scold me too severely. I consider yours to be a gift for both of us. I merely had it wrapped for the occasion.”
Yours, he had said, which means… Anna glances at the packages, the red paper winking up at her. “And the other one?”
His smirk sours into something that looks suspiciously like embarrassment. Glancing away, he sets the presents beneath the tree. Anna suspects it’s strategic; a reason to avoid her gaze when he admits, “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
A huff of laughter, and he shakes his head. “I couldn’t exactly acquire what you really wanted. Not on my own.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought perhaps an olive branch might inspire him to meet me halfway.”
Warmth curls in her chest, a gratitude that goes beyond what words can convey. She takes his hands in hers and tries, anyway. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “Thank you for trying.”
The breath he releases is sharp with doubt. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m half expecting him to lob it at my face. Or use it for kindling.”
Anna knows he won’t. For all Jiro’s stubbornrefusal to give Khiran an inch of a chance, he won’t refuse a gift out of spite. Not when he lived so long with so little. Whether it is received with gratitude or suspicion, however, is a question Anna doesn’t know the answer to.
Silently, she desperately hopes for the former.
That hope dims when Jiro comes in from gathering herbs from the garden and greets Khiran with a snide, “so you decided to show up?” in lieu of a hello. Even more so, when their lunch is fraught with tension instead of merriment. Khiran excuses himself to the living room while she cleans up the dishes and Jiro prepares the chicken. Anna suspects his leaving was more for her sake than his own—it’s only after he leaves and the tension in the small kitchen eases that she realizes her neck and shoulders are taut with it.
She sets the first plate on the drying rack before moving to the next. The water is warm on her hands, bubbles tickling her wrists, as she runs the dishrag over the china. Anna used to think they were too pretty, too fragile, for their lifestyle—the delicately painted florals twirling around the gold rims. Now, despite having broken several pieces over the years, she’s glad for them. The bit of color has grown on her; a spark of joy mapped in scrolling vines.
“There’s something for you under the tree,” she says, breaking the casual silence. “Perhaps when we’re done here, we’ll open gifts?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his spine straighten, his head swiveling to face her. “I thought we weren’t exchanging.”
“It’s not from me.”
A beat of silence, two, and Anna looks up from her washing. Jiro is frozen, his mouth parted and his eyes searching. There’s a confused furrow creasing his smooth brow, but it’s eclipsed by the suspicion shadowing his gaze. “Why would he get me anything?”
Anna shrugs, pulling the final plate from the water and setting it on the rack before grabbing a towel for her hands. Turning, she faces him fully, leaning against the apron sink. She can feel the chill of the enameled cast iron through her dress as she dries her hands. Weighing her answer, she eventually settles for the truth. “He understood that what I wanted most is for you two to get along.”
Jiro flinches. The trembling beginnings of guilt darken his eyes ashis jaw works around words he can’t seem to bring himself to speak. Anna suspects they probably resemble an apology.
She sighs. “I don’t expect you to like him. There’s always going to be people we simply don’t get along with—”
“It’s not that,” he interrupts, the words leaving him in a rush and a flush rising to his cheeks. “It’s not—I just don’t like how he treatsyou.” Anna recoils, but he continues before she can speak. “I know he’s not actually your husband.”
Anna’s lips part, but the only thing that escapes is a soft, “Oh.”
Jiro’s face flushes, voice hissing like a pot under pressure. “You said you didn’t have a family name. Which means he didn’tgiveyou one.” He gestured to her right hand. “And you wear that ring, but it’s not on your wedding finger.”
Anna blinks, too stunned to feel embarrassed. “You think I’m his mistress?”
Jiro flushes scarlet. “Well, aren’t you?” He makes a wide gesture to the walls. “He has you out here all by yourself in the middle of nowhere. And he leaves you alone for weeks, sometimesmonthsat a time. He says he’s traveling for work, but he’s probably got a whole other family on the side!”
Anna brings a hand to her temple, feeling foolish, because ofcoursethat’s what it looks like. She takes a breath, bracing herself. “We aren’t married—not in a way the church or government would recognize—but he is mine and mine alone. We never needed a ceremony or a ring to symbolize our commitment to each other, and Khiran doesn’t have a family name for the same reasonIdon’t. We were both orphans in this world. He didn’t—”
“He leaves you up here, all by yourself, for weeks at a time.” Jiro interrupts, face twisting as he looks away. “I mean, you went out and hired a stupid kid even though you didn’t actually need help, just so you wouldn’t be alone.”
Anna’s heart drops. Tumbles. “Is that what you think?” she breathes, the words bruising on her tongue. “Jiro… I didn’t bring you here because I was tired of being alone. I brought you here soyouwouldn’t be.” She catches his gaze, holds it with a desperation she knows he must feel. “And Khiran—”
She swallows, wets her lips. The hand towel is twisted in her hands, the embroidered flowers she stitched straining in her grasp. “I can’t explain to you the lengths he would go for the sake of my happiness, but please understand: if I wanted him to stay, he would. Even when he shouldn’t. Even when hecan’t.”
Jiro goes quiet, his righteous confidence melting away into something uncertain. The firm line of his narrow shoulders sags. “I told you I didn’t want charity.”
“It was never about charity, Jiro. How could it be when I’m gaining something too?” Her chest heaves with the force of her exhale, as if she could breathe out the noose around her heart. “I don’t mind being alone, but that doesn’t mean you being here hasn’t brought me so much joy.”
