Free You Are Not A Stranger Here by Adam Haslett Page A

said only what was needed. That she too had been attracted to Ben made perfect sense. Hillary crossed the room and stood with her hands on 73
    Owen's shoulders. He could feel the warmth of her palms through his cotton blazer. Unusual, this: the two of them touching.
    "It'll be curious, won't it?" she said. "To see him so briefly after all this time."
    "Yes."
    Twenty-five years ago he and Hillary had moved into this house together. They'd thought of it as a temporary arrangement. Hillary was doing her student teaching; he'd just started with the firm and had yet to settle on a place. It seemed like the beginning of something.
    "I suppose his wife couldn't come because of the children." Her thumbs rested against his collar. She was the only person who knew of his preference for men, now that Saul and the others were gone. She'd never judged him, never raised an eyebrow.
    "Interesting he should get in touch after such a gap,"
    Owen said.
    She removed her hands from his shoulders. "It strikes you as odd, does it?"
    "A bit."
    "I think it's thoughtful of him," she said.
    "Indeed."
    In the front hall, the doorbell rang.
    "Goodness," Hillary said, "he's awfully early."
    He listened to her footsteps as she left the room, listened as they stopped in front of the hall mirror.
    "I've been with a man once myself," Ben had said on the 74
    night Owen finally spoke to him of his feelings. Like a prayer answered, those words were. Was it such a crime he'd fallen in love?
    A few more steps and then the turning of the latch.
    "Oh," he heard his sister say. "Mrs. Giles. Hello."
    Owen closed his eyes, relieved for the moment. Her son lived in Australia; she'd been widowed the year before. After that she'd begun stopping by on the weekends, first with the excuse of borrowing a cup of something but later just for the company.
    "You're doing all right in the heat, are you?" she asked.
    "Yes, we're managing," Hillary said.
    Owen joined them in the hall. He could tell from the look on his sister's face she was trying to steel her courage to say they had company on the way.
    "Hello there, Owen," Mrs. Giles said. "Saw your firm in the paper today."
    "Did you?"
    "Yes, something about the law courts. There's always news of the courts. So much of it on the telly now. Old Rumpole."
    "Right," he said.
    "Well . . . I was just on my way by . . . but you're occupied, I'm sure."
    "No, no," Hillary said, glancing at Owen. "Someone's coming later . . . but I was just putting a kettle on."
    "Really, you don't have to," Mrs. Giles said.
    "Not at all."
    75
    T H E Y S AT I N the front room, Hillary glancing now and again at her watch. A production of Les Miserables had reached Perth, and Peter Giles had a leading role.
    "Amazing story, don't you think?" Mrs. Giles said, sipping her tea. The air in the room was close and Owen could feel sweat soaking the back of his shirt.
    "Peter plays opposite an Australian girl. Can't quite imagine it done in that accent, but there we are. I sense he's fond of her, though he doesn't admit it in his letters."
    By the portrait of their parents over the mantel, a fly buzzed. Owen sat motionless on the couch, staring over Mrs. Giles's shoulder.
    His sister had always been an early riser. Up at five-thirty or six for breakfast and to prepare for class. At seven-thirty she'd leave the house in time for morning assembly. As a partner, he never had to be at the firm until well after nine. He read the Financial Times with his coffee and looked over whatever had come in the post. There had been no elaborate operation, no fretting over things. A circumstance had presented itself. The letters from Ben arrived. He took them up to his room. That's all there was to it.
    "More tea?"
    "No, thank you," Owen said.
    The local council had decided on a one-way system for the town center and Mrs. Giles believed it would only make things worse. "They've done it down in Winchester. My sister says it's a terrible mess."
    76
    "Right," Owen said.
    They had