Page 11 of Redeem

I couldn’t be lonely. I had sought my solitude, had welcomed it. It was the thing I craved above all others. But this time with Ciprian had, for the first time in years, made me consider something different.

His presence had made the day better, faster, more pleasant. I tried to think of something else that might account for the difference, but Ciprian was the only difference.

My days had moved with the same rhythm for years, an intentional decision on my part. But this one with him had been undeniably better. The actions had been the same, me focused on a project for the house, but I wasn’t brooding, wasn’t thinking about the past, planning for the future.

During those hours I had been in the moment, with him, just being.

I turned off the kitchen sink, listening as the pipes rattled. I’d need to replace them eventually, but I hoped they’d hold out a little longer. Once the worrying rattle passed, I moved to the refrigerator, my mind again taken with thoughts of the day.

I’d had fun, and I’d been in the moment. It was so simple, yet so mind-blowing.

I never did that, always thought about what I had lost, what I would never allow myself to lose again. But today, I’d just been there in someone’s presence, no pressure, no expectations.

I had loved it.

And that was scary.

I decided to ignore that for the moment, knowing there was no way I could manage to untangle the messy thoughts that my realizations about the day had opened. Instead, I made lunch. Turkey sandwiches and carrots. I frowned as I looked at the spread, momentarily wondering if he’d find the meal acceptable and then forcing myself to pretend it didn’t matter.

I loaded the plates and a couple of sodas onto a tray and then walked outside. There had been so many rare events today. It had been years since I’d shared a meal with another person.

Not since…

Thankfully, the screen door slammed and jarred me out of that direction of thought. “We can sit up here if you’d like,” I said to Ciprian, who stood at the base of the porch steps wiping his hands dry.

I looked away before he responded, again wondering what had come over me, trying to figure out what about this man reached out to me so.

Six

Ciprian

“Thank you, Dana,” I said when she lifted the plate laden with food toward me.

I meant the words sincerely, as sincerely as I had meant any others I’d ever said. They were also a bitter meal, her hospitality only making my guilt that much more acute.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her face dropping ever so slightly as I took the plate from her.

“What is it?” I asked. Something had changed in the few minutes we’d been apart, and I immediately wondered what was on her mind, wondered if it was something I’d said or done, wondered if she had somehow guessed why I was here.

Her face twitched and then broke into an easy smile, one that made my heart skip with the radiance of it.

“You say my name funny,” she said.

I tilted my head in question, the panic of moments ago fading with this curious new direction of conversation.

“You say ‘Dan-ah,’” she said.

“Is that wrong?” I asked, frowning.

“Wrong? I guess not. But everyone else says ‘Day-nah.’ Like ‘day’ and ‘night’ you know?” she said.

I frowned slightly, then said, “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t really hear the difference.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. I think I like it.”

Her smile lingered for a moment, and I braced myself for follow-up questions about the faint accent I still carried. But a moment later, she flinched like she’d been shocked and then looked down and took a bite of her sandwich.

I looked at her for a moment longer, staring at the dark curls that had fallen from her ponytail and now lovingly caressed her jaw. With great effort, I turned my eyes away and looked out at her property, wanting to give her a moment free from my gaze.

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