“You don’t have to sit so far away, Jun. I’m not going to bite you.” She slid toward me, so close that her dress, which was now rather muddied, touched and then covered my leg. She took my hand in hers and leaned her head against my shoulder. “My mother is terrible, isn’t she?”
I held myself as still as I could. “She’s just concerned about you, Nora.”
“She’s not concerned about me, Jun, isn’t it obvious? The only thing she really cares about is herself. And money! Money! Money!”
I said nothing, for she wasn’t mistaken.
“And she’s so ridiculous about men,” Nora continued. “She gets so angry when I go to a party with someone, as if I’m going to marry every man I dance with. And poor Ashley. She’s always carrying on about our ‘inappropriate friendship.’ Well, we have no such friendship. How could we have? She’s there almost every time I see him.” She looked up into my eyes, and the sight of her face so close to mine made something jump in my stomach. “But now I get to see you, Jun,” she said almost sleepily. “It’s so nice to see you here by the river.”
She placed her hand on my cheek, and as much as I told myself to pull my head away, as much as I saw a door opening that I did not wish to enter, I could not remove myself from her touch.
“You’re fond of me, aren’t you, Jun?”
I could feel her warm breath on my lips. I kept telling myself that this was Nora, who was only a girl—but the touch of her hand, her smile, said something different. “Of course,” I said. “I like you very much.”
“No, I mean you’re really fond of me.” And with this she leaned closer, so that I could feel her warm, full breasts against my arm. I felt a stirring and tried to keep my breathing steady. But I was not a strong man, I had never been strong, and she knew what she was doing to me.
“Miss Niles,” I said, “you must be freezing. Let’s go join the others and get you back to the warm.”
“I am cold. You should feel how cold.” She took both my hands in hers and held them against her cheeks, which were, despite her words, soft and warm. Then she guided one hand slowly down the length of her body, under her dress, and onto her knee. “Why don’t you warm me,” she said, although her flesh was hot to the touch. For one last moment I tried to pull myself away—but then, unaccountably, I thought of Elizabeth, of her arms around Tyler in my guest room that night, of her shrinking away from my touch. I was filled with an anger that transformed into passion for the young girl in front of me now. My hand moved up her thigh and I grasped her by the shoulder, laying her down on the rock. And as she held me close, as her breathing grew ragged and short, she whispered in my ears, and kept saying my name, and then moved into a place without words.
About six weeks after Ashley Tyler’s death, just before I was to return to the studio, a visitor called upon me at my home. I was sitting in the courtyard taking my afternoon tea when Phillipe came out, looking distressed. “Mrs. Cole is here to see you, sir.”
I looked at him for a moment. “Show her in.”
“Certainly.” He turned away, and then shifted back again. “Would you like me to remain outside with you, sir?”
I smiled—apparently even my servant was aware of her reputation. “No, Phillipe. I’ll be fine.”
A moment later he returned with Harriet Cole, who strode toward me as if she’d been in my courtyard a hundred times before. Watching her approach, I realized that I had been expecting her visit. “Mrs. Cole,” I greeted her, standing.
“Mr. Nakayama.”
I bade her to sit in the chair across from me. She was dressed entirely in green, even her hat and shoes. I wondered how she would speak to me, in what form the anger would come. It occurred to me that I’d never been alone with her.
“What brings you to my house?” I asked.
“I think you know very well, Nakayama. My daughter.”
Phillipe reappeared with a cup of tea, which Mrs. Cole received without acknowledgment. After giving me a significant look, he left the courtyard and reentered the house. He then assumed a spot just inside of the door, out of earshot but within clear sight.
“How is Miss Niles holding up?” I asked, trying to sound as normal as possible. “I know this is a difficult time for her.”
Mrs. Cole brushed her sleeves off as if they were covered with something distasteful. “I find it amusing that you even deign to ask. You certainly haven’t shown concern for her before.”
I looked down at my hands, which suddenly seemed useless and pale. “On the contrary, Mrs. Cole. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of her. Where is she now? Is she still at the mansion?”
Beneath her hat, I could see her eyes grow sharper. “No. She’s had to go out of town for the time being. She’s safe where she is, however. She’s being very well cared for.”
“Because of her nerves?”
“Partly. But not only that. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that she’s with child.”
Although I kept my expression impassive, my hands began to shake. “I see.”
“I thought it was Tyler, she doted on him so. What a bad piece of luck for that man. If I had known the truth, he’d still be alive.”
I stared at her. “What are you saying, Mrs. Cole?”
She drank from her tea as calmly as if we were discussing my plants, the particulars of their need for light and water. “I’m saying you’re very fortunate, Nakayama, that I didn’t know the truth. If I had known at the time that I learned of her condition, you and
