Page 60 of The Secret
“Four,” she says, and I nod.
That seems to finish the conversation. The random few words you have with strangers when you’re waiting for something to happen. People close to us start to move forward, and she grabs the boy’s hand and heads up the aisle. As I follow her, all I can think of is how his dark curls reach up to her waist.
30
LISS
Friday, March 4, 2022
Ashadow crosses the open doorway, and Brian looms in the gap.
“Brian, this is a pleasant surprise,” I say.
“I’m glad you think so,” he says, with a slow smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You got time to grab something to eat?” His gaze skims over the piles of paperwork on my desk.
I rub my face. I want to sweep all this onto the floor. I’ve been here until 10 p.m. every night since I got back a week ago. Maybe a bowl of comfort food and a chat would shore me up for the afternoon. I stand and gesture to the door, and, as we walk toward the nearby café, Brian updates me on Nkamira camp in Rwanda, and what’s happening with James, his produce shipments, and the local government officials who stick their noses into everything we do because money is involved. I briefed Brian when I got back from South Africa, although I’m sure there were huge gaps in what I told him, and then I buried that visit in a vault somewhere deep in my body.
When we roll into Mimi’s, I stand and stare at the menu on the wall. Could I eat something? I’m not sure. Brian touches my arm.
“Liss?”
Akaras—bean fritters—are simmering away in the pan behind the counter, and I point at them and the lady nods, scooping six out of the hot oil onto greaseproof paper. She hands it over to me as Brian asks for the same in Swahili.
“A stew and coffee,” I say automatically. It’s always safer here when the water has been boiled.
“Make that two,” Brian adds.
We slide ourselves in around a table, and Brian studies me steadily. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Just a lot to do.”
My briefing to Brian avoided any mention of Dan.Should I tell him?I eye his peppered beard and kind eyes.It might be good to talk to someone. But as if he can read my mind, he says suddenly, “I’m here because Dan contacted me this morning. I thought I should come and tell you straightaway.” He looks down at his food, chewing his cheek. “I’ve also got a confession to make. I knew Dan was going to be there. When I got the email about the meeting, there were several pictures. He looked completely different, but after a while I realized it was him.”
I’m halfway through a bite in my sandwich, and I choke, my throat dry like dead summer grass. My stomach goes into freefall.
Brian reaches out and squeezes my fingers. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought I could engineer a meeting. I thought you might be relieved to discover he’s alive, that it would answer some questions.” He winces and a notch appears between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing.”
“He was on the platform,” I say, rubbing at the dry skin on my hands. The lump in my throat swells. My eyes fix on his left shoulder.
Brian clears his throat. “He said he saw my name on the list of organizations that were invited to the conference, and wanted to reach out to me. He said he’d seen you at the meeting and was contacting me on the off chance I might know where you were.”
Oh, shit.I try and swallow past the golf ball that seems to have lodged itself in my throat.
“He asked me if I’d had any contact with you, if I knew where you were, what you were doing,” Brian adds.
“Did you tell him I was here?”
Brian spreads his palms flat on the bench, and my gaze jumps to his face. “I didn’t want to lie when he asked me if I’d seen you.” He sucks on his lower lip. “That was probably the wrong thing to do, I’m guessing.”
I shake my head, sucking air into my lungs to stop myself gasping. What a catalog of disasters. But Brian’s always been so good to me; I’m sure he was trying to help.
“You didn’t mention that you’d seen him.” There’s a question mark in his tone. “After what you said about trying to track him down, I …”
I trail patterns on the battered table in front of me. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t … I didn’t feel …” I take a long breath. Brian doesn’t say a word, face sympathetic. Embarrassment flushes through my body. I’m like some cliché, shocked at finding out about the other woman, an idiot about men.
“I didn’t want to talk about seeing him,” I whisper, then shake my head. That’s not right. “Icouldn’ttalk about it.”
“What happened, Liss?” He takes my hand and rubs it between his two bearlike paws. “Talk to me.”
