THAT WASN’T EMBARRASSMENT
I gave Lily a lemon square and left her with a coworker from accounting. Then I stood near the dessert table trying to convince myself nothing strange had happened.
A grieving child saw something familiar. That was all.
Except Gerald had reacted like a guilty man. His face hadn’t shown surprise. It had shown recognition — as if Lily had spoken the exact sentence he’d been afraid of hearing.
So I went looking for him.
He was standing near the pergola with Trent, his business partner. I slowed before reaching them.
Trent was laughing. “So you’re really doing it?”
Gerald said something I couldn’t hear.
“The whole second floor?” Trent continued. “You’re rebuilding all that space for a family?”
My steps stopped.
A family?
Gerald had never married. No children. His parents lived out of state. His sister’s kids were nearly grown.
Who was he rebuilding his house for?
Then something worse happened. A light from the patio shifted across Gerald’s head, and I saw the thing Lily had been staring at.
THE TINY COMPASS
Behind his ear was a small tattoo. A compass rose. No bigger than a coin. Still slightly pink around the edges.
My entire body went cold.
Nathaniel had the same tattoo. Exactly the same. Same design. Same place.
He’d gotten it at nineteen, on that old trip to Lake Thornwood. He used to joke that Gerald was supposed to get one too, but backed out at the last minute.
Nobody noticed Nathaniel’s tattoo very often. Lily did. When she was little, she’d sit on his shoulders and trace it with her fingertip. When he carried her to bed, she’d touch it while falling asleep.
To Lily, that tiny compass was part of Daddy.
And now Gerald had one.
“Oh my God.” I said it louder than I meant to.
Gerald turned. The second his eyes met mine, his expression changed. He knew exactly what I’d seen.
“Claire?”
“I need to leave.”
“What happened?”
“I forgot something.”
“You just got here.”
“I told someone I’d call.”
He frowned. “You didn’t have a sitter tonight.”
I stared at him, realizing how badly I was lying. “I have to go.”
I collected Lily and drove home.
THE BOX OF PHOTOGRAPHS
After Lily fell asleep, I pulled a plastic storage container from the closet. I’d avoided opening it for almost a year.
Inside were photographs from Nathaniel’s life before me. College. Road trips. Cheap diners. Bad haircuts.
Then I found Lake Thornwood. Nathaniel standing outside a tattoo shop, nineteen years old and grinning, a square of gauze taped behind his ear.
I flipped to another photo. Nathaniel and Gerald at a diner. Gerald laughing, head turned, ear completely visible.
No tattoo. Nothing.
I remembered Nathaniel’s teasing. Gerald had chickened out.
Then another thought hit me. Gerald had started wearing his hair slightly longer around six months earlier.
Six months.
I said it out loud.
The next morning, I went to his house.
“SHOW ME YOUR EAR”
Gerald opened the door in sweatpants and an old T-shirt. The dark circles under his eyes told me he hadn’t slept either.
“I thought you might come.”
I stepped inside. Nathaniel’s old travel mug sat beside the coffee machine. Suddenly I hated seeing it there.
“Turn around.”
Gerald sighed. “Claire.”
“Please.”
He turned his head. In the morning light, the compass was even clearer. Fresh enough that I could still see faint redness.
“When?”
He knew exactly what I meant.
“Six months ago.”
“Why?”
His jaw tightened. “I should’ve told you.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Gerald looked down. “Because I felt ashamed.”
“Of what?”
He sat at the kitchen table. I stayed standing.
“Nathaniel was your best friend.”
“I know.”
