Amala walked slowly toward the west parlor, where she knew that doors opened onto a large patio that bordered the garden. She had often enjoyed the afternoon sun there herself. She entered the open door into the room, her footsteps completely silent on the carpet. She stopped when Henry came into view, lounging comfortably in one of the chairs that always remained on the patio during the summer months. Just the mere sight of him caused Amala to catch her breath. He looked different, but that was easily credited to the neatly trimmed beard on his face and the fact that she’d never seen him dressed that way before. She was glad to have a minute to take it all in while he was unaware of her presence. She found it funny that she could clearly recall how much she’d loved him and how difficult it had been to adjust to dissecting herself from his life and then to accept his marriage to her sister. But she could honestly say that her feelings were even more controlled and proper than she’d believed possible. Now that she was here, she knew that everything would be all right and, perhaps more importantly, that everything was as it should be—for all of them.

Amala finally stepped through the open doorway onto the patio, saying quietly, “Hello, Henry.”

“Amala!” he said with a gasp of surprise as he stood and turned and dropped his book all in a matter of seconds.

“Forgive me for startling you,” she said as their eyes met and memories flooded over her. He said nothing, and she could imagine him contending with the same memories. For a moment she feared he might revert to the kind of interaction they’d once shared when they were alone together, which would have been completely inappropriate for a married man. But it only took a second for her to realize that his countenance and demeanor expressed nothing but friendship and the love of a brother—just as it should. There was not even the tiniest hint of the attraction he’d once exhibited so readily. He’d changed, and Amala was glad to realize that she felt nothing of the awkwardness she had feared might be present between them.

“Amala,” he said again with a breathy laugh and hugged her tightly but briefly, the way he had done many times during his visits to her home when they had been around other people and they had wanted their relationship to appear as it had now become, like a brother and sister, like the dearest of friends. “You’re really here,” he added, stepping back to fully take her in with his eyes.