“That’s reasonable.” She’s studying Nate, and I can’t help but think she looks far too happy with herself. “Can you start tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“I expect Eva is planning to go to the funeral, and she’ll object to her father or me taking her. It’s graveside, which means it’ll be more difficult to navigate her wheelchair. I don’t think Grace is strong enough.”

“You’re willing to let me go without you?” I interject. My mother is attentive to every funeral, wedding, baby shower, or significant anniversary of the people we know in Jessup.

“I can go if you don’t mind, but I thought you might want space.” My mother watches me as she speaks, and I can tell that there’s more going on here than I understand. This feels like a test of some sort, and I don’t know the right answer.

“I’ll take her.” Nate’s answer breaks the sudden silence. He glances at me. “If you want to go . . . I was going anyhow, but if you don’t want to go, it’s fine. You just got home.”

I don’t want to go, don’t want to see anyone yet, and I really don’t want anyone to see me.

I have to go though. Fear won’t keep me at home.

“Grace is coming too,” I tell him.

Nate nods. “I figured.” He glances at my mother then. “The problem is travel. I’m not sure how comfortable Eva would be in my truck.”

“Nate can drive my car,” I suggest. “That way Grace can ride with us too.”

“Perfect!” my mother says with a small hand clap, obviously pleased that we’ve played into her hands.

I know my mother isn’t plotting against me, at least that’s my usual theory, but as I look at her satisfied expression I worry. At the same time, I’m relieved that I’ll see Nate more, glad he’ll be with me at the funeral, and grateful that he’s seemingly unconcerned about my mother’s gleeful expression.

After my mother excuses herself to check in on her work email, Nate and I exchange a quiet look before he says, “She maneuvered both of us without blinking.”

“You don’t have to do this.” It feels weird to realize that my mother is going to be paying Nate to spend his days with me. My family hiring him to spend the summer with me is awkward. I suggest, “She can find someone else, you know?”

Nate is quiet again. In our years apart, I think I’d forgotten how often he retreats to silence. Not for the first time, I think that his reputation as enigmatic at school is a cover for his tendency toward quietness. When he speaks, his words are measured. “I need the money, and I like seeing you.”

He holds up a hand when I open my mouth, so I stay mute as he adds, “Plus, it gives me a way to explain being here that doesn’t make people think the wrong thing about us.”

It’s my turn to be silent, but I suspect I seem more sulky than mysterious.

He stands, looks at the dishes, and muses, “I’ll need to ask your mother to show me around tomorrow before we leave. Figure out meals and what all I’m to do.”

“Right.” I try to smile. Being around him is confusing. He keeps saying and doing things that make me think he’s interested in me, but then, he retreats.

Now that Robert and I are through, I can admit that I’m really not content with platonic friendship with Nate—which is why my voice comes out sharp and I snap, “Leave the dishes today. You’re not on the clock yet.”

An expression I can’t read crosses his face.

“Would it help to think of me as your combo butler and maid?” he half teases. He smiles, and I can’t help smiling back at him. I need to work harder at suppressing my crush, or I’ll lose him completely.

“Maybe . . . but we’ll need to discuss your uniform then.” I pause and look at him as if I’m considering the matter seriously. “I might as well get some pleasure out of having a sitter, and you’re not horrible to look at.”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll see you and Grace tomorrow,” he says, and then he leans down and kisses the top of my head, further blurring lines that I’m already having trouble seeing.

DAY 12: “THE SACRIFICE”

Judge

TOMORROW, I’LL SEE HER again. They probably think I didn’t care enough. If They knew how much I do care, They’d be shocked. I bet not even Reverend Tilling prays for her as much as I do.

Since I sent the message, I’ve been waiting for a sign, some proof that she understood. I’ve seen nothing.

Perhaps the message wasn’t clear enough.

Sin and status are sure ways to death. It’s so obvious. Maybe Micki was too vague. She wasn’t filled with sin. She clung to her status, but she guarded her chastity. Maybe a second message, one on the nature of purity, will help.

I drive past Eva’s house on the way to the grocery. Grandmother wants some special cheese for some dish that no one will eat. Every so often she decides to pretend she can still cook, so I volunteered to go to the grocery. She’ll be asleep by the time I’m home, but I’ll tell her I was back early. She’ll cover for me without prompting if anyone ever asks. An alibi will matter this time.

I text Amy while I’m at the grocery. “Busy?”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Pick me up at DQ in 15.”

I smile. She’s a good giver. I’m glad we’ll get a chance to spend a little time together before the message. I was sad that she wasn’t available a few days ago, but yesterday we went to the old summer kitchen out on the Kennelly place.