Page 10 of These Godly Lies
Anna tries to hide her smile as she cuts the top off a carrot. The herbs she grows seem to be very different from the seasonings he grew up with. It’s one of the few things he still feels uncertain about. With how chaotic her herb bed is, she can’t altogether blame him. “The one you said looks a bit like pine needles.”
He sets the potato, half-peeled, on the table with the knife, wiping his hands on the apron Anna helped him sew last week. “How much?”
“Just a stem should do,” she hums, cutting the carrot lengthwise into long spears.
He leaves the kitchen door wide open when he leaves, the earlysummer breeze brushing against her skin like a cool kiss. It’s a habit Anna’s noticed but chooses not to comment on. Deep fears have a way of manifesting into small, but telling, actions. She suspects it will take months before Jiro will close a door behind him and trust it to open when he returns.
She’s gathered the lengths of carrot together on the cutting board, just beginning to dice them into finer bites, when the sound of Jiro shouting drifts from the open doorway. There’s an edge to his voice, fear masquerading as bravery, that makes her heart jump.
Anna thinks of Khiran’s warnings, that it’s not if butwhenthey’re found, and feels her heart plummet. The knife drops from her hands, her feet quickly taking her through the open door. Her mind scrambles for another line of reasoning, but she doesn’t get any visitors, not this far up. The only people that wander these hills are her and—
The garden comes into view and, with it, the sight of Jiro brandishing a shovel like a weapon. The man at the other end is as familiar to her as her own heart.
Relief comes as a sigh painted with the colors of his name, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. “Khiran.”
He glances up at her, a question in his gaze. He’s wearing tan slacks and a tweed vest over a cream shirt. It isn’t unlike something she would see a banker wearing in town, but the indigo fabric wrapping the package he holds clashes against the western style.
Jiro points the end of the shovel towards Khiran’s chest. The expression he wears might be more intimidating if worn by an adult, but the bravado lacks strength when the top of his head barely reaches Khiran’s shoulders. “I don’t know who you think you are or what you’re selling, mister, but you should leave!”
She moves quickly to Jiro’s side, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, the anxious edge in the boy’s eyes stirring guilt. “I should have warned you. Khiran visits often.”
Khiran meets her gaze, eyebrow raised. She can practically hear his thought:Visit?
Anna pointedly ignores it. Instead, gently coaxing him to lowerthe shovel. She notices, with amusement, that he still has a stem of rosemary clutched in one of his hands.
Jiro pins him with a distrustful look but dutifully lets the shovel drop, the blade giving a metallic twang when the tip strikes a rock. He glances at the fabric bag hanging from Khiran’s crooked finger. “What are you? One of those door to door salesmen, or something?”
Khiran’s answer is glib. “Not in this life, anyway.”
Anna interrupts before Jiro can speak the snarky retort she can practically see him holding. “Let’s take this inside, shall we? Jiro? Would you be so kind as to put the shovel in the garden shed for me?”
Jiro doesn’t seem thrilled by the request, but he nods before handing her the sprig of rosemary. “Here.”
Anna takes it with gratitude. “Thank you.”
Once Jiro has walked the first few feet toward the garden, she links her arm through Khiran’s as they head towards the house. She can feel the weight of his questions the entire way, but he doesn’t speak until after they’re well out of earshot.
“I’ve only been gone six weeks,” he accuses, but there’s a thread of laughter in his voice that makes the words sound more amused than angry. “When, exactly, did you take it upon yourself to adopt?”
“I didn’t adopt him. Ihiredhim.” When he looks no more convinced, she raises her chin pointedly. “He helps me around the house.”
“Ah,” he breathes. “And I suppose he has to live in, what with the journey being so far.”
“Exactly.”
He hums. “His clothes look new. Suspiciously similar to that fabric I brought you last spring. A uniform, I suppose?”
She smothers a smile, releasing his arm to enter the kitchen. “I’m so happy you understand.”
He grabs her hand, forcing her to face him. Whatever amusement that lit his eyes only a moment before has extinguished, leaving a quiet regret in its place. “He can’t stay, Anna.”
She frowns, lips parting—ready to protest—but Jiro is coming in. The sound of the door shutting cutting her off before she can start.She sends Khiran a meaningful look that promises they will continue this conversation later.
He answers with a subtle nod.Later.
Jiro has yet to shed his scowl. “You just come whenever you want, then?”
Khiran sets his package on the counter before shrugging out of his coat. “One tends to do that in their own home.” He holds the coat, momentarily uncertain. Anna realizes he’s not sure what to do with it now that he’s unable to make it disappear with a bit of magic and a flick of his wrist.
