When Da got sick and Ruth and Ma begged me to come home, I said that I was tied to a contract and was needed there, and since there was nothing I could do for Da, there was no point in coming home. But that wasn’t the point, was it? They’d needed me and I’d let them down. I’d let Ma down too when she was dying, knowing full well that all she wanted before she died was an explanation for what I’d done and to see me one last time. Even that, I couldn’t do for her. I just couldn’t face up to how badly I’d let her down.

Riaan interrupted my thoughts. “Are you okay, Delilah?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You seem a million miles away again. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, sorry. It’s just been a tough eight months.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Riaan asked.

Suddenly, I did. So badly.

I wanted to tell him about Daniel’s death and the emotional ice-age it had brought on, freezing my feelings and making them so numb that I was only distantly aware of them. I wanted to express how I’d realized that shock is a kindness that your body grants you; how it allows you to distance yourself from the kind of heartbreak that would otherwise cleave a jagged hole down your center, one big enough for you to fall through and never claw your way out of again.

Instead, I said, “I’m fine. Really. There’s nothing to tell.”

“Okay,” he said, looking like he didn’t believe a word of it. “Did Ruth tell you I’ve been checking in on you?”

“Yes, she did, and I appreciate it. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch to thank you. It’s been a bit crazy, what with the Coetzees and Ruth and the baby.”

He was quiet for a moment and then tentatively said, “She mentioned that you lost someone? Which is also why you’ve been so upset?”

I nodded.

“Was it . . .” He trailed off and then looked away. “Was it the priest?”

The priest.

I froze, unsure how to answer, when Riaan said, “Look, never mind. It’s none of my business. I actually came here for a reason . . . a specific reason, I mean . . . not just to stop by for a chat.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to the site on Sunday, the one at Gladysvale, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me for the day? It’s a fun outing and you learn a lot in the process. And I’ll pack a picnic basket for afterward so we can have lunch. It’s very pretty there and I think you’ll enjoy it—at least I do . . .” He was rambling, which is how I realized how nervous he was.

“Are you asking me out?” I teased, trying to defuse his discomfort.