Page 32
She smirked. “What are you, the favorite place police? I happen to have lots of favorites. Speaking of which, let’s go and find the penguins.”
He decided not to point out that if they did that, they’d miss the seals and the bears.
“Maybe I should scatter Colin’s ashes here,” she murmured as they walked. He winced. “No,” she said after a beat. “It was always me who wanted to come, not Colin.”
He let out a long, slow exhale.
“What do you remember of coming here with your mom?”
“My mum,” he corrected. Then smiled. “We became American citizens and she was very proud of that, but she was also a proud Brit. Told me never to forget I belonged to both countries.”
“She sounds lovely.” Anna gave his arm a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry I don’t remember meeting her here.”
He nodded, feeling a swell of emotion as memories slowly filtered back to him. His mum with long dark hair, a face unravaged by cancer, a huge smile not dimmed by exhaustion. Green eyes clear and bright, not dulled by a terminal prognosis.
It was the first time he’d pictured her that way in fifteen years.
“I think Colin wanted you to revisit a place you loved as a kid,” he said through a tight throat. “And me to remember my mum the way she was for most of my childhood. Not how she was in the last two years.”
Anna’s arm threaded through his. “Tell me more about your early memories of her. What you remember from living in England. How it was moving here.”
Her body felt warm pressed against his, her eyes full of compassion, and interest. Enough that he found himself doing the talking for a change.
“We lived in Manchester, not too far from the Lake District, England’s largest National Park.”
“I know the Lakes.” When he looked at her in surprise, she gave him a small smile. “I spent a semester in London as part of my nursing degree. Met my best friend there and she took me to the Lakes once. It was really pretty.”
How had he not known she’d spent time in England? “Pretty is about right. It’s nothing like the scale of the US but for a kid who lived in a city, the lakes and mountains were incredible. I guess it’s where I got my love of the outdoors from.”
“Why did you move to the US?”
“Mum got offered a job in New York. We talked about it, but I was ten, what did I know? I said I didn’t mind going because I knew America had better theme parks.” Anna laughed softly. And because he enjoyed the sound, enjoyed her attention, he carried on the conversation as they made their way round the zoo, Anna taking selfies of them in front of all the enclosures. He talked about times he’d not thought about for years. Memories of his mum that warmed him from the inside.
By the time they made it back to the condo it was early evening.
“How do you feel about shepherd’s pie?” He asked as they took off their boots. He placed his neatly by the door. She dumped her furry ankle boots haphazardly onto the rest of her pile of shoes.
She straightened and looked at him in confusion. “Sorry?”
“I think I can remember how to do it, if you fancy it.”
Her head cocked to one side and she gave him a cool study. “Does that mean you’re not going for a walk tonight?”
It had never taken her this long to forgive him. “It means I’m sorry I disappeared on you last night. I needed to clear my head.”
“Because of what happened—”
“You know why,” he interrupted, not wanting another discussion on the subject. Once was excruciating enough. “Shepherd’s pie, yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Right.” He started towards the kitchen.
“Do you want some help?”
He didn’t think he could manage to be in the same room with her and not want to pin her to the wall with his hips. “Thanks, but I’ve got this.”
He enjoyed a measure of quiet, of calm while he chopped and sliced, peeled and diced, then slid the pie into the oven. A measure of quiet too, when he retreated to his room to catch up on his emails. Spam, a reminder to renew his car insurance. Nothing from the one person he wanted to hear from. It had been two weeks since his interview. He’d been warned it might take a while, but any sane person would have to conclude they didn’t want him.