“That is more kindness than I deserve.”
“No.” Noah’s voice sharpened slightly. “It isn’t kindness. It’s only the truth.”
I walked Elias to the corridor.
His wife came to him immediately. She was smaller than she had appeared from the room, silver-haired and fine-boned beneath the bright red coat. She slid her hand into his with the tenderness of someone who had been keeping him upright for days.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“There is nothing to thank us for.”
“There is.”
Elias looked past me toward Noah’s room.
“Will he recover?”
“His injuries are healing.”
“And his memory?”
“We don’t know yet.”
His brow drew together. “I thought he remembered you.”
“He knows who I am now.”
The distinction did not settle immediately.
Then understanding spread across his face.
“He doesn’t remember your life together.”
“No.”
His eyes flooded again.
“I took that too.”
“You did not decide for this to happen.”
“That doesn’t change the result.”
“No.”
I could have lied to comfort him.
I did not.
“He asked to meet you,” I said. “That meant something to him.”
Elias nodded.
“I’d like to hear how he’s doing. Later. Only if it wouldn’t be intrusive.”
“Call the yard in a month.”
His expression shifted with surprise. “You would allow that?”
