She turned to her side, stared at his face. A slow guilt passed over her in the form of a deep sadness. She reached over and traced his chin, his unshaven cheeks.

“I’m sorry you don’t understand why I can’t help you with your project,” he said.

She looked away. “I don’t.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, but I love you.”

“I love you, too. And, no, I don’t understand why you can’t help, but I don’t understand a lot of things right now.” He wouldn’t pursue this subject; he probably hadn’t even heard her.

He brushed the hair from her forehead. “Well, we have a party to give, guests coming.” He stood and stretched.

“Yes,” Amy said. “Guests coming.” She sat up and shivered.

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-one

Nick stood in the closet doorway, where he could see Eliza’s reflection in her vanity mirror. She leaned forward, wiped below her eyes, brushed upward against her eyebrows, then lifted tweezers from her flowered makeup bag to pluck one stray hair from the outside line of her perfectly arched brows. Can’t have anything out of place now, can we? Eliza was a beautiful woman, not much different from the beautiful girl he’d married. She was what people called “well-preserved,” as she should be, considering all the time and money she spent on herself.

She did draw attention—she and her family. He was lucky, men told him. Watching her was almost like observing a stranger. Then, as if a fist had been shoved into his stomach, he realized he really didn’t know her at all. He bent over with the force of this knowledge, with the intensity of wondering to whom he was married. She had loved him well these years, loved him in spite of himself, taken care of their life, their children; but he didn’t know her, and he wasn’t sure he loved her.

This thought, this truth, came so clearly to him, he wondered why the words had never formed in his mind even before Amy had reentered his life. Amy had been a force beneath everything he felt, but had not been fully present until now.

He and Eliza had never discussed Amy after he left the jail. The day he was released, he’d asked Mr. Carreira, one more time, if he had heard from Amy. “Nick,” the lawyer said, “I think you need to let this go.”

“No,” Nick had replied, knowing Amy was coming, still coming.

The damn lawyer had looked up, staring everywhere but at Nick. “Eliza did a little research, found out she is engaged to some hometown boy.”