Free Keeping Secrets by Suzanne Morris

then?
    What did she look like?
    Like Emory, of course—they made an attractive match.
    But at the Menger, where we’d been so happy together.
    Nonsense.
    I pulled up an encroaching vine, felt the little suction cups pop under my hand as I loosened it, inch by inch, from the earth. The vines climbed all over up the trees, along the ground, up the fence nearby. Who did they think they were?
    Why, Emory, why?
    Nathan stopped by and looked at the vines clutched in my hands. “You can hardly kill them,” he observed.
    â€œWhat?” I glanced up.
    â€œAt home when I was a kid, we had a big tree right in the center of the front yard. The vines grew up the trunk and all through the branches. Dead of winter, the tree would be bare, but the vines would be thriving still … it looked so odd.”
    â€œNathan, does Emory know the tango?”
    He looked perplexed. “I have no idea.”
    â€œI think he’s doing it, with Aegina Barrista. Would you go to the Menger next Friday, and see?”
    â€œElectra, I can’t just—”
    Then a thought flashed like a beacon. “Of course, you must know where Emory was last Friday afternoon. Think, where?”
    He paused. “Why, at the office of course—”
    â€œYou’re positive?”
    â€œLet me think.” (An interminable pause as he studied the ground.) “He did leave early, though, to go by the bank on some busi—Electra, listen, I’m sure you are wrong about this.”
    â€œOh, Nathan, could you just check next Friday?”
    â€œMe? But why?”
    â€œYou could so easily explain your looking for him if he were there and he saw you—a pressing business matter. And then I’d know the truth and have some time to … gather … to …”
    â€œDon’t cry, Electra.”
    â€œPlease, help me.”
    â€œWould that be helping? I mean, I just couldn’t risk it, really.”
    I looked at him squarely then. Beads of perspiration covered his forehead. His eyes were wide, intense.
    â€œYou’re a coward!”
    â€œNo, you don’t understand …” He was drawing away and backing toward the house, arms held out, entreatingly. “I can’t, you see …”
    Presently I recovered and turned to look up at the house. He was inside, watching me from the window. Poor frightened fellow, strange shadow of a man. I threw a rock into the water and watched the ripples spread.

8
    Nathan and I shared dinner alone that evening.
    Every sound of knife grating across meat, spoon stirring in a glass, fork scraping plate was deafening. We soon gave up and faced each other.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I began. “You see, I’ve tried so hard to please Emory but … today a lady at the coffee said—”
    He looked away.
    I ran my tongue across my mouth. “If there is something going on behind my back, you could tell me and I swear to you I would not let Emory know where the information—”
    â€œI know of nothing,” he said, staring at a fixed point across the room.
    I sighed. “All right. I don’t suppose you could imagine what it’s like to—”
    His hard glance shot through my words. “But I could … I could imagine more than you think.”
    â€œWell then, just tell me, was there ever anything between Emory and Aegina Barrista? My suspicions are based on more than what I overheard today.”
    â€œWhy don’t you ask him?”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI just can’t, that’s all,” I said. I could not tell him the true reason was that, since I had forbade Emory to mention my past, I had no right to trespass on his unless I was certain he had failed to leave part of it behind.
    As I hesitated, Nathan studied me, then queried earnestly, “You’re afraid to ask him, aren’t you?”
    â€œOf course not … I just … don’t want to