"We're ready," she announced, handing it to him. She picked up the rest of the ice and the rock salt. "To the porch we go. You have to make it on the porch, or it isn't the same."
"Ah,"h e said.
She took a seat beside him on the porch steps, sitting fraction' ally closer than she had the day before. Wedging the can between his feet, Thibault began to rotate the crank, surprised at how easily it turned.
"Thanks for doing this," she said. "I really need the ice cream. It's been one of those days."
"Yeah?"
She turned toward him, a sly smile playing on her lips. "You're very good at that."
"What?"
"Saying, 'Yeah?' when someone makes a comment. It's just enough to make someone keep talking without being too personal or prying."
"Yeah?"
She giggled. "Yeah," she mimicked. "But most people would have said something like, 'What happened?' Or, 'Why?'"
"All right. What happened? Why was it one of those days?"
She gave a disgusted snort. "Oh, it's just that Ben was really grumpy this morning while he was packing, and I ended up snap-ping at him to hurry up because he was taking so long. His dad usually doesn't like it when he's late, but today? Well, today, it was as if he'd forgotten that Ben was even coming. I must have knocked on the door for a couple of minutes before he eventually opened it, and I could tell he'd just gotten out of bed. Had I known he was sleeping in, I wouldn't have been so hard on Ben, and I still feel guilty about it. And, of course, as I'm pulling away, see Ben already hauling out the garbage because dear old Dad was too lazy to do it. And then, of course, I spent the whole day cleaning, which wasn't so bad the first couple of hours. But by the end, I really needed ice cream."
"Doesn't sound like a relaxing Saturday."
"It wasn't," she muttered, and he could tell she was debating whether to say more. There was something more, something else bothering her, and she drew a long breath before sighing. "It's my brother's birthday today," she said, the faintest tremor in her voice. "That's where I went today, after dropping Ben off. I brought flowers to the cemetery."
Thibault felt a thickness in his throat as he remembered the photograph on the mantel. Though he'd suspected that her brother had been killed, it was the first time that either Nana or Elizabeth had confirmed it. He immediately understood why she hadn't wanted to be alone tonight.
"I'm sorry," he said, meaning it.
"So am I," she said. "You would have liked him. Everyone liked him."
"I'm sure."
She twisted her hands in her lap. "It slipped Nana's mind. Of course, she remembered this afternoon and called to tell me how sorry she was that she couldn't be here. She was practically in tears, but I told her it was okay. That it wasn't a big deal."
"It is a big deal. He was your brother and you miss him."
A wistful smile flickered across her face, then faded away. "You remind me of him," she offered, her voice soft "Not so much in your appearance, but in your mannerisms. I noticed that the first time you walked in the office to apply for the job. It's like you two were stamped out of the same mold. I guess it's a marine thing, huh?"
"Maybe," he said. "I've met all types."
"I'll bet." She paused, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Did you like it? Being in the marines?"
"Sometimes."
"But not all the time?"
"No."
"Drake loved it. Loved everything about it, in fact." Though she seemed mesmerized by the movement of the crank, Thibault could tell she was lost in her memories. "I remember when the invasion began. With Camp Lejeune less than an hour away, it was big news. I was scared for him, especially when I heard talk about chemical weapons and suicide stands, but do you want to know what he was worried about? Before the invasion, I mean?"
"What?"
"A picture. A dumb old photograph. Can you believe that?"
The unexpected words made Thibault's heart suddenly hammer in his chest, but he forced himself to appear calm.
"He took this picture of me when we first arrived at the fair that year," she said, going on. "It was the last weekend we spent together before he joined, and after we made the usual rounds, we just kind of wandered off to be alone. I remember sitting with him near this giant pine tree and talking for hours as we watched the Ferris wheel. It was one of the big ones, all lit up, and we could hear kids oohing and aahing as it went round and round under this perfect summer sky. We talked about our mom and dad, and we wondered what they would have been like or whether they'd have gray hair or whether we would have stayed in Hampton or moved away, and I remember looking up at the sky. All of a sudden, this shooting star went by, and all I could think was that they were listening to us somehow."
She paused, lost in the memory, before going on. "He had the picture laminated and kept it with him all through basic training. After he got to Iraq, he e-mailed me and told me that he'd lost it, and asked if I could send him another one. It seemed kind of crazy to me, but I wasn't there, and I didn't know what he was going through, so I said I'd send another one. But I didn't get around to sending it right away. Don't ask me why. It was like I had some sort of mental block against doing it. I mean, I'd put the disk Into my purse, but every time I was near the drugstore, I'd just forget to get the photograph developed. And before I knew it, the invasion had started. I finally got around to sending it, but the letter was eventually returned to me unopened. Drake died in the first week of the invasion."
She stared at him over the tops of her knees. "Five days. That was how long he lasted. And I never got him the one thing he wanted from me. You know how that makes me feel?"
Thibault felt sick to his stomach. "I don't know what to say."
"There's nothing you can say," she said. "It's just one of those terrible, impossibly sad things. And now… today, I kept thinking that he's just slipping away. Nana didn't remember, Ben didn't remember. At least with Ben, I can sort of understand it. He wasn't even five when Drake was killed, and you know how memories are at that age. Only a little bit sticks. But Drake was so good with him because he actually enjoyed being around him." She shrugged. "Kind of like you."
Thibault wished she hadn't said it. He didn't belong here____________________
"I didn't want to hire you," she continued, oblivious to Thibault's turmoil. "Did you know that?"
"Yes."
"But not because you walked here from Colorado. That was part of it, but it was mainly because you'd been in the marines."
He nodded, and in the silence she reached for the ice-cream maker. "It probably needs some more ice," she said. She opened the lid, added more ice, and then handed it back to him.
"Why are you here?" she finally asked.
Though he knew what she really meant, he pretended he didn't. "Because you asked me to stay."
"I mean, why are you here in Hampton? And I want the truth this time."
He grasped for the right explanation. "It seemed like a nice place, and so far, it has been."
He could tell by her expression that she knew there was more, and she waited. When he didn't add anything else, she frowned. "It has something to do with your time in Iraq, doesn't it?
His silence gave him away.
"How long were you there?" she asked.
He shifted in his seat, not wanting to talk about it but knowing he had no choice. "Which time?"
"How many times did you go?"