He grabbed my hand and we shook. When he tried to let go, I didn’t want to release him but I did.
During our separation, I had wondered if I even still liked him. This now seemed like little more than a pathetic coping mechanism. Of course I still liked Win. I more than liked him. The question was, could he possibly still like me? After all these things I’d done, I mean.
It was deeply wrong to have such concerns at a funeral, I know.
Win looked at me—his gaze was steady, if not overly warm—and he nodded formally. “Natty wanted us here,” he whispered.
My heart started to pound in my chest. The thrum was so hard and loud that I wondered if Natty and Scarlet could hear it.
At that moment, the funeral began, and we had to rise, and I reminded myself that Imogen, my friend, was dead, and that she had died saving my sister.
After the service, we went to the front of the church to pay our respects. “I’m so sorry,” I said to Imogen’s mother and sister. “Natty and I are both so sorry. Imogen took such good care of my grandmother and my sister. We’ll miss her more than we can even say.”
“I will always remember her books and how funny she was,” Natty piped up in a soft but strong voice. “I loved her and I’ll miss her so much.”
Imogen’s mother began to weep. Her sister pointed a finger straight at Natty and said, “You shouldn’t be here, girly. You got Imogen killed.”
At that point, Natty started to cry, too.
“You people!” Imogen’s sister spat the words at us. “You people are criminals! I told Imogen about you people, but she would never listen. ‘This family is a plague,’ I said. ‘It isn’t safe. There are other jobs.’ And look how she ended up!” the sister continued. “You people are the lowest, the worst.”
“Hey, that’s not called for,” Win defended us.
The sister turned to Win. “You’d be wise to run, young man. Run as fast as your legs will take you. Or you’ll end up just like Imogen.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said, in order to draw the focus away from Natty and Win.
The sister turned toward me. “There’s a circus out there, thanks to you! Go now, and take your filthy circus with you.”
I hustled Natty out of the church. Win put his arm around her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You were very brave to come here. No matter what that woman said. It was the right thing to do.”
The apartment was not altered in any material respect from how it had been the morning I had left it, and yet it wore its difference like a widow wears a veil. Imogen was gone, and Leo would never return. As for me, I felt years older, though not particularly wiser.
“Remember, Annie, you can’t leave the apartment until February twenty-eighth without clearing it with me,” Mr. Kipling said.
As if I could forget. A tracker had been injected into my lower calf just north of my tattoo that morning, and the area was swollen and pink, like overly kissed lips. Still, there was a relief to being confined. I had time to contemplate my next move.
Simon Green told me that security had been hired to stand guard outside the apartment (just in case anyone tried to finish off Natty and me) and then both he and Mr. Kipling left. Scarlet and Win had gone straight home after the funeral.
“Isn’t it weird how quiet it is?” Natty asked.
I nodded. But it was also rather peaceful.
Early Sunday morning, before we even would have been up to dress for Mass had I not been confined, the doorbell rang.
Still drowsy, I stumbled down the hallway. I looked through the peephole. It was Win’s mother of all people, and behind her, Win. I was about to open the door when I stopped. Maybe this will seem strange to you, but I wanted to watch him without him knowing I was watching him. I hadn’t had the chance to really look at him at the funeral. He was still so handsome. His hair had grown out from the summer and he was wearing hats again—a red plaid wool hunting cap with furry earflaps! His coat was the same one from the funeral and from Fall Formal 2082. I loved that coat. I loved him in that coat. I wanted to unbutton it and crawl under the flap and button myself in and forget everything that had happened.
They rang the bell again, and I jumped back at the sound.
Natty came into the hallway. “Annie, what are you doing? Open the door!” She pushed past me and did just that.
Win and his mother were both carrying sacks. “Anya, hello!” Jane Delacroix said. “I hope you’ll forgive me but I’ve brought you and Natty some groceries and other things. I know it’s a difficult time for your family. And, in my small way, I wanted to help.”
“Please,” I said, “come in.” I looked at the plump bags. “And thank you for this.”
“It isn’t much,” Win’s mother said. “The least I could do.”
Natty took Win’s bag, then she led Win’s mother into our kitchen.
Win hung back, as if he didn’t want to get too close to me. Maybe I was being paranoid though, maybe he was allowing me a respectful space. “I’m so sorry about your brother, and Imogen, too,” he said.
I nodded. I kept my gaze directed at his shoulder. Now that I wasn’t safely behind the door, I was almost scared to look into his eyes.
“My mother, she really did insist,” Win said. “I wasn’t planning to come until the afternoon.”
“I…” I felt sure I was about to say something really incisive, but nothing came. I giggled—yes, giggled—and I put my other hand over my chest in an attempt to muffle the sound of my stupid, dogged heart. “Win,” I said, “your father lost the election.”
He smiled, and I could see his pretty, pretty teeth. “I know.”
“Well, tell him when you see him that I’m not—” I giggled again; this giggling was getting embarrassing; I can only account for it by saying I was still not quite awake. “Say that Anya Balanchine isn’t at all sorry!”
Win laughed, and his eyes softened a bit around the corners. He took the hand that was over my heart and he pulled me in close to him until my face was up against that wool coat I knew so well. “I’ve missed you so long, Annie. You barely seem real to me. I’m worried I’ll turn around and you’ll disappear.”
“I’m not going anywhere for a while,” I told him. “House arrest.”
“Good. I’ll like knowing where you are. I like this new DA already.”
There were so many things to be sad and worried about, but at that moment, I couldn’t be sad and worried. I felt brave and sturdy and better around Win. It would be so easy for me to love him again. Abruptly, I pushed him away.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Win … What Imogen’s sister said at the funeral is true. The people around me do tend to get hurt. You know that.” I touched his hip with my fingertips. “We don’t have to start this whole thing up again. Just because you met a girl you liked in high school doesn’t mean you have to stay with her forever. I mean, no one does that. No one with any good sense at least. I”—I had been about to say something about how I considered myself to be a person with ample good sense but then I said something else—“I love you.” I did; I was certain. “I love you but I don’t want—”
Win interrupted me. “Stop,” he said. “I love you, too.” He paused. “You underestimate me, Annie. I’m not blind to your faults. You keep too many secrets, for one. You lie sometimes. You have trouble saying the things in your heart. You have an awful temper. You hold a grudge. And I’m not saying this next one is your fault, but people who know you have a disturbing tendency to end up with bullets in them. You don’t have faith in anyone, including me. You think I’m an idiot sometimes. Don’t deny it—I can tell. And maybe I was an idiot a year ago, but a lot has happened since then. I’m different, Anya. You used to say I didn’t know what love was. But I think I learned what it is. I learned it when I thought I had lost you over the summer. And I learned it when my leg ached something awful. And I learned it when you were gone and I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. And I learned it every night when I’d pray that you were safe even if I never got to see you again. I don’t want to marry you. I’m just happy to be near you for a while, and for as long as you’ll let me be. Because there’s never been anyone else for me but you. There will never be anyone else for me but you. I know this. I do. Annie, my Annie, don’t cry…”