Free The Memory of Us: A Novel by Camille Di Maio

to choose.”
    “God has blessed me with much. It’s a small thing for me to give in return.”
    Again, he’d had the last word. How could I come up with a smart retort when he said things like that?
    We continued to talk, and I was blissfully unaware of the time. He asked me more about my school plans, and I asked what Durham was like. I told him about Lucille, and he entertained me with some Irish jokes. I basked in the glow that I felt from being near him.
    “Do you think we’ll get in trouble for being here?” he asked.
    “No, this is the Eckleys’ barn. They’re visiting family in Formby right now. Besides, they owe Father a favor, so I don’t think they’d mind.”
    “What favor is that?”
    “Some developers wanted the land, and Father petitioned his friends in the city government to let the Eckleys keep it. He says it’s because there’s too much development, but I think it’s because they export a lot of wool from their sheep farm in Knowsley and store it in his warehouse until it’s ready for shipment.”
    “That’s a little cynical.”
    “That’s business for you. Still, he does like his open spaces, so maybe there’s a little truth in it. It’s a good thing we live on the park.”
    “Oh, I completely agree. Ideally, I would love to live out in the country. Just me and the hills and the silence. What about you?”
    I couldn’t exactly tell him that I couldn’t imagine living more than five blocks from a good dress shop. “Oh, absolutely,” I said instead. “Hills and silence? What else could one want?”
    The livestock had long since become used to our presence and stopped looking at us altogether. Although one of the cows eyed me with suspicion, as if she disapproved of my white lie.
    I could see that we were each stifling yawns, but neither made a move to leave. At one point, he lay back against the stall and closed his eyes. I thought that he might be sleeping. I curled my knees up to my chin and put my arms around my legs, avoiding the painful area. Head on my arms, tilted to the side.
    I looked at him, so still. Handsome. Good. Funny. He was so wonderful with Charles. He was unlike any other man that I knew, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to him. Was this what love felt like? Or the beginning of it? I dismissed that thought, rationalizing that I had known him for too little a time.
    I stayed in the same position, even as my joints stiffened. How I would have liked to sit next to him, to ask him the things that burned inside of me. To hear him tell me that he liked having me here.
    Why didn’t you bid on me? I can understand, with the priest thing, if you didn’t bid on anyone, but you did. “Why didn’t you bid on me?”
    He shifted and I gasped—had I said that last part out loud? I hoped that he hadn’t heard. It couldn’t have been more than a whisper.
    Still lying down, he said, “So you noticed that.”
    No turning back. I didn’t try to hide the resentment in my voice. “Of course I noticed it. I saw you bid on Anne and Irene and Melody. I didn’t even know that you knew them. But you didn’t bid on me .”
    “I didn’t know them.”
    “That’s not an answer.”
    “That’s the best one that I have.”
    “No, it’s not. Why did you bid so low on them and then stop? Why did you leave when my name was called?”
    “You really want to know?”
    “Yes.” We were almost yelling now. “Yes,” I repeated in a whisper.
    “I bid on them because I figured that raising the money was important to you. I didn’t expect to win with those bids, but I wanted to drive up the price to help you—to help the cause.”
    He always surprised me with his answers.
    “But that doesn’t answer my other question.”
    “Which was?”
    He knows perfectly well what my other question was, but he’s going to make me repeat it.
    “Why did you bid on them and not me.” It was more of a statement, a small accusation, than it was a question.
    He didn’t answer immediately,