Part 7
I turned so quickly that one crutch tip scraped sideways.
Caleb pushed away from the bench. He wore a dark wool coat with the collar raised, and the wind had reddened the edge of the scar along his jaw.
He held out a hand without quite touching me.
“Easy. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Then I saw who was sitting beside his left boot.
“Rook.”
The dog’s ears came forward at his name. He held his place, ignoring a pigeon that strutted within a few feet of him.
I laughed once, badly, and put a hand over my mouth.
Caleb looked down at him. “Go on.”
Rook rose and crossed the pavement at an unhurried trot. He stopped close, sniffed along the unfamiliar shape of my new braces, and looked up at me.
I lowered my hand.
He stepped against my right leg, warm and solid through the fabric of my coat. His chin settled just above my knee.
The crutch slipped from my hand and clattered onto the path.
I didn’t reach for it. I put my fingers behind his ear, bent as far as my back allowed, and let myself cry.
Caleb retrieved the crutch. He waited until I was ready before fitting its handle back into my palm.
“I thought you’d disappeared,” I said.
“I did, for a while.”
“Corbett said you’d gone somewhere he couldn’t discuss.”
“There were people behind Pike who needed attention.” Caleb watched a jogger pass before continuing. “The company moving the money is dismantled. I wanted to be sure no one was still looking for the courier.”
I drew back slightly at the word.
He saw it.
“That was their description,” he said. “Not yours.”
I rubbed Rook’s neck, concentrating on the places where the fur changed direction.
“On the train, you called me a mule.”
Caleb’s mouth tightened.
“I did. I shouldn’t have put their word on you.”
The apology came without qualification. He stood beside me while a gust sent a little whirl of leaves against the bench legs.
“They saw someone they could use,” he said. “That’s what they planned around.”
“And what did you see?”
He glanced at my crutches.
“You made it down that aisle when standing was costing you everything. Then all hell broke loose, and you stayed with us.”
“I couldn’t go anywhere.”
“I know the difference.”
Rook pressed his nose into my hand. I turned my palm up, and he rested his muzzle there.
Caleb watched him with the small smile I remembered from the train.
“He doesn’t spend his life sorting people into strong and weak,” he said. “He works out who belongs with him. You got there before I did.”
I looked down at the dog. A few hairs lifted along his neck in the wind, and I smoothed them with my thumb.
“Bellamy pleaded guilty,” I said. “Last week.”
“I heard.”
“Twenty-five years.” I had practiced saying the number in my apartment, but it still sounded unlikely in my own voice. “No parole.”
Caleb gave a short nod.
“Good.”
We stood quietly for a while. Across the pond, a groundskeeper was gathering fallen branches into a cart. The ordinary scrape of the rake was pleasant to listen to.
Caleb indicated my legs without looking at them too closely.
“How are they working?”
“Better.” I shifted my feet to show him. “They don’t make walking easy, exactly. Just possible for longer.”
“That counts.”
“The university team let me inspect everything. All the pieces, before they put them together.”
“Good people.”
“They were very patient.” I smiled. “I asked a lot.”
“As you should.”
I ran my hand down the outside of my coat, feeling the clean line of the new brace beneath it.
“Lighter, too,” I said. “And nothing inside that isn’t supposed to be.”
Caleb looked at me for a moment, then nodded toward the path.
“Don’t let them keep you indoors, Erin.”
“I’m trying.”
“Keep coming out.” His voice softened. “Let somebody else make room for a change.”
Rook lifted his head when Caleb gave a brief whistle. He left my leg reluctantly enough to make me smile, then returned to Caleb’s side and sat squarely beside him.
“Look after yourself,” Caleb said.
He turned down the path.
I watched them take a few steps before I found my voice.
“Caleb?”
He stopped.
“Is this the last time?”
Rook looked back at me first. Caleb followed his gaze, one hand resting near the dog’s harness.
“We don’t make a habit of staying in one place,” he said. “But we’re around.”
“That isn’t much of an answer.”
A smile touched his face.
“Next train you take, check for an open seat.”
He raised two fingers in farewell and walked on, Rook close beside him. The dog looked back once before the bend in the path took them out of sight.
I remained near the pond until the cold began to creep through my gloves. Then I settled both crutch cuffs around my forearms and checked the path ahead.
People were coming toward me: a couple with coffee, a woman pushing a stroller, the jogger returning from his circuit. I started forward before the way was completely clear.
The woman with the stroller moved aside. I thanked her and kept walking.