Eli didn’t look up from the phone. “How can you tell?”
She put her hand next to his. Eli’s nails were chipped and stained from garden work and last night’s camping, while Chelsea’s were a perfect oval, the cuticles evenly pushed back.
“Good observation,” he said, then stood up. He started toward the door but when he got near the couple, he tripped and almost fell on the woman. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his hand on her forearm as though to steady himself.
Only Chelsea saw him drop her cell phone into the woman’s open-topped handbag.
Eli went back to the seat across from Chelsea, took his phone out of his pocket, and began more tapping.
“So help me, if you don’t tell me what you’re doing, I’m going to start screaming.”
“I’m being the nerd you think I used to be. I may look different, but it’s still me inside. There. Done.” He moved to the bench beside her and held his phone up between them.
They heard a woman’s voice through the phone: “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” said the man. “How is Abby? She must be what now? Thirteen?”
“Fifteen,” the woman answered.
Chelsea pulled back to look at Eli. “You set up the phones to eavesdrop?”
“I did. Learned how from some spies.”
“Interesting coworkers you have,” Chelsea muttered, then leaned her head close to his.
“How is Paula?” the woman asked so softly she could hardly be heard.
There was a pause, then the man’s voice sounded near to tears. “Bad. She is . . . It’s not long now.”
“Orin, I’m so sorry. This is hard on you, I know.”
There were some sniffs as though the man was trying not to cry. “When we met she was so very pretty. To me she’ll always be that girl I knew in high school. But now she’s—”
“You don’t have to say it.”
“But I need to,” he said. “She’s dying and it won’t be long until the end. Grace, you’re one of the few people who haven’t deserted us. Your cards and emails have been a treasure to both of us.”
“I’m glad I can help in some way,” Grace said. “I feel responsible for so much of it.”
“It’s not your fault!” Orin said. “What Gil did to all of us wasn’t your responsibility. You’ve suffered as much as Paula and I have. I’m just glad your daughter isn’t ill like my dear wife is. The bills, the debt . . .” He started crying again.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Grace said. “If I could help in some way, I would.”
“The money from the sale of the house?”
“I gave you that,” she said, her voice alarmed.
“Yes, yes, of course you did,” Orin said. “I’m sorry. I spend my life with bedpans and IV tubes. It’s hard for me to remember things. Yesterday . . . Oh, never mind. Tell me something happy about your life.”
“I don’t know what to say. Abby has grown into a very pretty young woman. She’s rather shy, but one of the football players has taken a liking to her and he invited her to the prom. Next Saturday we’re going to buy her a dress.”
“How wonderful,” Orin said, but there was a bit of an edge to his voice. “How different our lives are. Yesterday four big men came to repossess the mechanical bed Paula lies in. I can make it go up in the back so she can see out the window. It’s one of the last pleasures she’ll ever have. Oh, Grace! I was begging them to give me another week. Just one more week with the bed and I swore I could somehow raise the three hundred dollars they wanted. Paula was there in the room and she heard me pleading. She was so humiliated that there were tears running down her cheeks. She only weighs eighty-four pounds now, and to see those tears broke my heart. She—” He began to sob loudly.
“I’m so very sorry,” Grace said.
“I know you are.” His voice grew angry. “But sometimes, I remember what Gil did to Paula, me, and to you and sweet little Abby, and I want to . . . I want to . . .”
“I know,” Grace said. “I do too, but he’s gone now.”