Page 51 of The Collector
“It was a bus stop in Givat Shaul.”
“Was anyone killed?”
There was no point in lying to her. Besides, with any luck, she wouldn’t remember. “A boy of fifteen.”
Her expression darkened. “I want to talk to my mother. I want to hear the sound of my mother’s voice.”
“We’ll call her.”
“Make sure Dani is buckled into his seat. The streets are slippery.”
“He’s fine, Leah.”
Gabriel averted his eyes as her mouth opened in horror and she relived the explosion and the fire. Five minutes elapsed before the memory released her.
“When were you last here?” she asked.
“A few months ago.”
She frowned. “I might be mad, Gabriel, but I’m not a fool.”
“You’re not mad, Leah.”
“What am I?”
“You’re unwell,” he said.
“And what about you, my love? What is your condition these days?”
He considered his answer. “Satisfactory, I suppose.”
“Trust me, it could be worse.” She trailed a forefinger through his hair. “But you definitely need a haircut.”
“It’s the new me.”
“I was rather fond of the old you.” Her fingertip moved down the ridge of his nose. “Are you working on anything?”
“An altarpiece by Il Pordenone.”
“Where?”
“In Venice, Leah. Chiara and I are living in Venice again.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. Tell me, do you and Chiara have children?”
“Two,” he reminded her. “Raphael and Irene.”
“But Irene is your mother’s name.”
“She’s been dead for many years.”
“You must forgive me, Gabriel. I’m unwell, you know.” She tilted her face toward the sky. She was leaving him again. “Is she pretty, this wife of yours?”
“Yes, Leah.”
“Does she make you happy?”
“She tries,” said Gabriel. “But when I close my eyes...”
