Chapter 9: Portland

The children's section of the library closed at six, and by seven I was alone in it, shelving picture books.

I heard the front door and knew who it was by the sound of his boots.

"You said not to come by the library," Kip said.

"I did."

"I'm sorry. I won't be long."

He stopped at the end of the aisle, with a big blue paper bag in his hand, and didn't come closer.

"My mother called," he said. "She told me she gave you the key."

"She did."

"You read the sixth letter."

"I did."

He nodded and let it sit.

"I'm taking a job in Portland," he said. "A theater. They need someone to rebuild a staircase. I leave on the thirty-first."

"The day after the gala."

"Yes."

I put a book on the shelf and then took it back down, because it was upside down.

"You're running away."

"I'm doing what you asked. I'm getting out of your way."

"I asked for thirty days. I didn't ask for a different state."

He held out the bag.

"It's your tea. The kind you like. You left it at the apartment."

I took it.

Our hands didn't touch. He was careful about that.

"The night nurse," I said. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because you'd have to believe me over him."

"Over Monty."

"I haven't earned that." He looked at the floor. "Ask her yourself. You'll know it when you hear it. You won't need me."

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