He’s the strongest guy on our team and plays awesome defense. He set a school record for assists last season.”
“Wow,” I said, impressed.
One side of Matt’s mouth drew up.
There was no use arguing my sincerity. “Was that your dog, Matt?” I asked, pointing to the other photo.
“Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
“Homer.”
“Homer?” I repeated. “You named him after the Greek writer? The guy who wrote the Iliad?”
Alex threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, and he had a cat named Shakespeare.”
I saw the pink creeping up Matt’s neck.
“Not exactly,” he said. “When I found him, he was hungry and hurt and looked like he needed a home. So I called him Homer.”
I felt that strange little lump in my throat again. I carefully took the photo from the shelf and studied it. In grade school I had one special cat who heard all of my secrets and sorrows. This dog had probably listened to a few as well, especially since Matt was the only child of parents who were always fighting.
“There’s a lot of chatter in here, and it doesn’t sound like schoolwork.”
The three of us looked toward the door, where Grandmother stood.
“Then you must not have been listening real hard,” Alex told her. “We were just talking about the famous Greek writer, Homer.”
“I believe that, and you’ll tell me another one,” Grandmother replied.
“I heard someone mention Shakespeare,” he added.
“Save your lines for your girlfriends, Alex.”
To my amazement, she was smiling.
He grinned at her. “My father said to tell you he’s still hoping you’ll change your mind and let him interview you for his Eastern Shore history.”
“Your father will be hoping till Doomsday, at which point no one will be interested.”
Alex laughed. “He wants one of the professors in his department to have a look at the old mill.”
“I don’t know why your father persists in thinking of me as anything but a grouchy old woman, who means no when she says no.”
“It’s the newspapers,” Alex replied. “You’re the only person in town who reads as many newspapers and magazines as he does. No matter what I tell him about you, he’s convinced you’re not all bad.”
Grandmother clucked.
She liked this teasing, I realized. In some ways she was like me, always ready with a comeback, enjoying the give and take. Except she didn’t enjoy it with me.
“It’s time to get to work,” she said, her voice turning prim, like a girl who’d decided her flirting had gone on too long. “I want to hear lessons,” she said as she exited the room.
Matt tossed several notebooks on his desk.
“Golden retrievers are terrific dogs,” I remarked, looking again at the picture in my hands. “How long did you have him?”
“Two years.”
“What happened?”
“When we moved out, my mother said I had to get rid of him.”
First his parents separated, then his mother got rid of his dog? “That’s terrible! Homer was yours.”
“It was no big deal,” he replied, shrugging it off.
“Faker,” I said softly.
I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes, then he reached for the picture. “We should put this back.” He set it gently on the shelf.
“Well, thanks for the use of your computer.”
“Sure.” His voice was quieter than usual.
“Hope I’ll see you around, Megan,” Alex said.
“Yeah, me, too,” I replied, pretty certain I wouldn’t, not if he hung out with Matt.
“When do you turn on the heat?” I asked, soaking my hands in the hot dishwater, wishing the rest of me felt as warm. I had taken a walk before dinner and come back chilled. The cold fried chicken and potato salad hadn’t warmed me up any.
“November,” Matt answered, “if we’re lucky. It’s a big house to heat and Grandmother watches her money.”
I didn’t complain further, not wanting to seem like a wimp from the sunny Southwest. But having left behind ninetydegree days, I was freezing when the temperature plummeted to the low fifties. The dampness here added a raw edge that went right through my bones.
Drying my hands, I went upstairs to put on a heavy sweater, then joined Grandmother in the library for an evening of reading the newspaper. A few minutes later, Matt came in carrying several logs.
“What are you doing?” Grandmother asked him.
“Building a fire.”
She studied him for a moment, then looked at me with my turtleneck yanked up to my ears and my sweater sleeves down to my knuckles. “How thoughtful.”
The sarcasm in her voice made me reluctant to thank Matt in front of her. Besides, Grandmother was wearing a thick sweater, too; maybe he was doing this for her.
Matt built the fire, arranging the logs and stacking the kindling in a quiet, methodical way. He had rolled up his sleeves so I could see the muscles in his forearms. His hands were large, with the wide palms and long, strong fingers of an athlete. I wondered what it would be like to hold hands with him, then quickly squelched that thought.
He struck a match. As soon as it was dropped on the crumpled newspaper, I was down on the floor, close to the hearth. He dropped in another match. A piece of newspaper flared up, then collapsed quickly into ash. Small sticks caught and made crackling noises. Big sticks burned and the outside of a heavy log began to char.
Matt turned to me. “If you keep sighing like that, you’re going to blow out the fire.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. A smile touched the corners of his lips.
“I love fires,” I said.
“No kidding.” Maybe it was the hissing log that made his words seem softer.
I suddenly became aware of Grandmother observing us with a sour look on her face. I sat back quickly and spread the newspaper on the bricks in front of me, then lay on my stomach and began to read. The golden light flickered over the paper. I could feel its warmth on my face.
Matt found the sports page and lay on his stomach about a foot away from me. I didn’t look back at Grandmother, figuring we would have heard if she had any objections to our reading on the floor. I was more relaxed than I’d been since leaving home. Soon the print in front of me got blurry and my head felt too heavy to hold up.
I don’t know how long I slept, probably just a few minutes.
The sound of a shifting log awakened me. When I opened my eyes I saw that Matt had stopped reading. His face was turned toward me, his eyes, like dark embers, watching me.
Look away, I thought. Turn away now before it’s too late.
But I couldn’t. Gazing back into his eyes, I felt something stir inside me, some feeling so deep, so secret, my own heart couldn’t whisper the words to me.
Grandmother coughed and Matt and I glanced aside at the same time. I sat up and moved over two feet, so I could sit with my back against a chair. Matt poked at the fire.
That’s when I noticed it, above Matt’s shoulder, on a shelf to the left of the mantel.
“Grandmother, look. Your Bible.”
She glanced at me, then her head jerked in the direction that I pointed. Her mouth opened with surprise. She
