Mark shook his head as he adjusted his pressure on Carmen’s arm. How long did he have to hold it?
Carmen continued. “Leah Dolan. We were in the artists’ guild together. She was lovely. Mark, your mother was lovely. You look like her, around the eyes.”
“Thank you,” Mark said.
Carmen sighed. “It was so sad when she passed.” She reached across and patted Mark’s hands. Then she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked at Riley again, she smiled. “Thank you so much for coming.”
How was this woman smiling? How was she so grateful? Riley suppressed the welling emotion behind her own eyes. She took a breath. “Do you miss painting?”
Carmen nodded, her smile subdued. “Very much.” Pain clouded her eyes for a moment, and then it dissipated. “Tell me about what you do. Do you paint?”
“Riley paints amazing oils,” Mark answered for her. “And she did all the backdrops for the school play.”
“Oh, wonderful. What was the play?”
“Peter Pan.”
“Oh, I bet it was fantastic.”
“It was,” Mark said. “Your husband took you.”
Carmen covered her eyes. “Oh, yes,” she groaned. “I remember now. It was wonderful.” She dropped her hand in her lap. “Are you a realist, Riley? Or more abstract?”
Riley gathered herself. “A blend of both, I think. I like a lot of color. A lot of contrast.”
“Who are your influences?”
“Oh, Caravaggio and Rembrandt. Delaroche.”
“Mmm, light against dark, yes.”
“Cezanne and Van Gogh, of course.”
“Of course, with the color. Brilliant.”
“And, um, Samuel John Peploe?”
“Oh, I don’t know him, but I want to. Can you get me my bag? I have a notebook in there and a pen.”
Riley helped her rummage through a small duffel bag and wrote down Samuel Peploe’s name. “There’s something about his still lifes that makes me look and look.”
“This gives me such an image of your painting, Riley,” Carmen said. “Will you bring me something next time you come?”
Riley glanced at Mark, then back to Carmen. “Of course. I’d love to.”
“You know, Carmen,” Mark said, “Riley’s painting reminds me of my mom’s work.”
Riley nodded. “She’s another influence, if you can believe that.”
“Is that how you got to know each other?” Carmen asked, looking between the two of them.
Riley remembered that first night, when he’d wanted to ask her to paint the nativity and she’d thought he was a stalker. “You could say that.”
Carmen beamed.
Amy returned and checked Carmen’s blood pressure against Mark’s hands. If he was tired, he didn’t show it. He got the okay and slowly released his hands, giving them a little shake. He removed his gloves and tossed them in a wastebasket.
Amy cleaned up Carmen’s arm and applied a bandage, while Mark washed his hands. He helped Carmen walk to the scales to record her weight, and Riley gathered up Carmen’s things.
When they were ready to leave, Carmen, weighing about as much as a bird, took both Mark’s and Riley’s arms and let them lead her out to the car.
As they drove, Carmen asked Riley questions about being a teacher, interspersed with quick bits of trivia about Wenatchee. Mark parked in front of a modest little house with a picket fence. As Mark helped Carmen out of the front seat, Riley slipped from the back seat.
Carmen turned to her once more. “Thank you, Riley. I loved talking with you today. If I don’t remember you next time, just remind me. I won’t mind at all.”
Riley gently put her arms around the woman. “Thank you, Carmen. I think you’re remarkable.”
The woman brushed the comment away with her hand and a smile, but Riley saw gratitude in her eyes. Acknowledgment, maybe. She took Mark’s arm and let him help her into her house.
Later, Mark and Riley drove away in silence. Mark stretched and squeezed his right hand. She wasn’t surprised it ached, pressing like he had on Carmen’s arm for so long.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly after they left Carmen’s neighborhood.
“Me? I’m fine.” She paused. “What will happen to her?”
“She’s waiting for a new kidney. She’s been waiting for a long time.” He glanced at her. “Her chances are good, though.”
“Good.”
A few more minutes ticked by.
“Does it always feel like this?” she asked. “After leaving her? It’s like you don’t want any noise.”
“That’s a good way of putting it.”
“I can’t imagine never painting again.”
He nodded.
“I can see why your therapist wanted you to do this.”
“Like you said, Carmen is pretty remarkable.”
She studied him, her gaze following the pattern of his scars as they disappeared down his neck. “So are you, Mark.”
He didn’t answer.
The next traffic light turned red, and he stopped, glancing at her. “Can I take you to lunch? To thank you for your help?”
“You don’t have to do that. I liked Carmen, and—”
“Can I take you to lunch, Riley?” This time when she looked up, he was watching her, his gaze unsure but deep.
She nodded. “Yes.”
The car behind them honked, and he continued through the green light.
Mark pulled up to the restaurant, wishing his nerves would settle, and parked. “Do you like Thai food?”
“It’s one of my favorites. I haven’t had it in a long time.”
He’d planned to take her to this restaurant if she said yes to lunch. He wasn’t known as the “town hero” in Wenatchee, which meant he was treated like anybody else. No free appetizers or complimentary desserts.
The place wasn’t crowded, and the host seated them quickly.
“What’s good?” Riley asked, looking over the menu.
“I’ve had both the Tom Kah and the cashew nut chicken. The spring rolls are really good.”
“If I ordered them, would you share with me? I want to order the Thai basil chicken, too, and if I eat them both myself, you’ll have to roll me out of here.”
“We wouldn’t want that to happen.”
Mark’s hunger peaked just as the food came. Helping Carmen always wiped him out both physically and emotionally. His right hand still shook from the exertion of applying pressure to
