Free In the Company of Others by Jan Karon Page B

view?’
    ‘Ah, no. Blocked by the beeches, I’m afraid. I’ve given you our prettiest room, really, with hardly a twig to obscure the scenery.’
    ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Unless you hear otherwise, we’ll stick where we are.’
    ‘Two of the travel club will be bunking together tomorrow to free up the room for your cousins. That was understood when the ladies booked.’
    ‘Musical chairs,’ he said.
    ‘Always.’ Anna ran her fingers through a reckless mass of red curls. ‘Forgive my appearance, Reverend, I’ve somehow not put the comb to my head this morning. It’s as much to keep as the garden.’
    She was a beautiful, big-boned woman, intense and present to the moment, with eyes that appeared to take in a horde of details and sort them at lightning speed. Their eyes met as he lifted the cup and polished off his coffee—she looked worn, conflicted, and for a brief moment made no effort to conceal it. He felt there was something she wanted to say to him—four decades of counseling had honed a certain skill at sensing trial behind the forced smile, the hard jaw, the stiff upper lip.
    ‘I hope you won’t regret not getting about ’til the cousins arrive. There are so many grand places to see—Ben Bulben, of course, and the lovely Knocknarea walk to Queen Maeve’s grave, and Lissadell House and Inishmurray Island, and, oh, the Tubbercurry Fair coming ...’
    She went on, dutiful in limning the list. Even if they could get about, he lacked the grit to look at anything grand or affecting just now—the view of the lake was enough. He’d never been much of a tourist, and anyway, he’d seen a lot of Sligo on the previous trip. A day in the library would be a banquet of sorts, with a jog by the lake in the afternoon. He had no idea what to do about Walter and Katherine showing up full of vim and vigor, unscathed, as usual, by jet or any other lag. Bottom line, James Feeney was in possession of their immediate future. If Cynthia couldn’t ramble over hill and dale, neither would he.
    He was leaving the dining room when Anna dropped a fork, which hit the wood floor, bounced, and skidded under a dish cupboard. He set the tray down.
    ‘I’ll get it,’ he said, dropping at once to his hands and knees.
    ‘No, no, please,’ she said. ‘Let me, please.’
    ‘I can see it, it’s right back . . .’ He tried to reach the thing, but it eluded him. ‘A broom,’ he said. Peggy had taught him the efficacy of the broom handle—useful for everything from removing spiderwebs in ceiling corners to adjusting a high-hanging picture on the wall. Anna supplied a broom.
    He retrieved the fork, embarrassed that he couldn’t shoot to his feet like a young curate. Halfway up, he took the hand she offered.
    ‘There,’ she said, smiling.
    ‘There,’ he said, handing over the fork.
    They burst into laughter, the nonsensical kind that felt good and didn’t strain anything in the process.
    He was passing through the library with the breakfast tray, noting that the fire had been poked up.
    ‘Yoo hoo, darling, over here. Scooted down the stairs on me bum, then found an umbrella in the stair hall and used it as a cane.’
    There she sat in a chair by the open window, looking up-for-anything. He was foolishly happy. ‘You heedless woman.’
    He set the tray on the lamp table and rounded up one of the several footstools and placed the tray on it and shook out her napkin and draped it across her lap.
    ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘’til your doctor hears about this.’
    ‘I’ve just heard about it from Maureen.’ James Feeney strode in from the hall with a pair of crutches and propped them against the wall. ‘Good morning to all. We have here a very clever woman. Stays off her foot, as the doctor ordered, and still gets about like a field hare. Did you rest?’ Feeney asked his patient.
    ‘Well enough, thanks—the little pills are a godsend.’
    ‘Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, I’ll have a quick look if you don’t