I had so many questions. I could feel it, the current of the unsaid, circling the room, that thread of light between them still there somehow, still glinting. I wanted to try to understand what was going on. But Henry Lake turned before I could speak, his back to the light, his face in darkness, shielded again, all hat and beard and dark glasses. He took the glasses off and he and Novo looked at each other for a long time, and there was no speaking then. There was no breaking into that. Charlie Parker landed soundlessly on the table and settled down. Henry looked up at the painting of the dark-haired woman, her beautiful back, that tantalizing almost-turn.

“Is that her?” Novo said, and I said, “Who?” and Henry smiled. “Yes.”

“Who is she?” I said, and Novo said, “She’s beautiful.”

“Her name was Dulcie,” Henry said, and for a second the lights flickered under his skin, the way I’d seen my own skin shimmer, and his eyes filled instantly with tears.

“You?” I said to him. “You too?” But Henry said nothing, he just sat there, glowing and weeping.

“What is it, Henry?” I said. “Novo. What does he know?”

“I loved her,” Henry said, still looking up at her, still waiting, as if she might turn at any moment.

“When?” Novo asked. “How long?” and Henry sighed. “A moment. A lifetime ago. A whole lifetime.”

He looked away and wiped his eyes. “There was never enough time,” he said.

“For what?” I said, and that look passed between them again, all the things they knew and I didn’t. “What’s happening?”

“We have time now,” Novo said, sitting down on the sofa, pulling me toward him.

“But that’s your time,” Henry said. “You shouldn’t waste it on me.”

“Jude needs to know,” he said. “Do it for Jude.”

I had no idea what that meant, but I leaned into Novo and he put his arm around me, and Henry watched us. He smiled.

“Tell us about her,” Novo said. “Tell us Dulcie’s story. Come on. You know as well as I do that right now we have all the time in the world.”

FIFTEEN

Henry sat down, and Charlie Parker hopped onto the back of the chair, just behind him. Downstairs a door banged shut and another one groaned open and then it was pin-drop quiet while we waited for him to begin.

“There are so many doors between this life and my last,” Henry finally said, and Novo smiled.

“I could never remember them all.”

“It doesn’t matter how many,” Novo said.

“No. Just what’s on the other side,” Henry said, and his skin flickered again, and his eyes lit up. “I saw her first. Dulcie. I knew her before I met her. I think I always knew. But still. I was blindsided.”

“Where did you meet her?” I asked him.