J. Jance: Long Time Gone

I don’t know how long I sat like that. Suddenly she jerked awake. “How long have you been up?” she asked when she saw me. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you,” I said. “Did anyone ever tell you that you snore?”

“You’re not exactly blameless on that score,” she said. “But I chalked it up to your meds. How long have you been sitting there?”

“A while,” I said.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I’m hungry enough I could probably tackle one of Ralph’s dead bagels.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Mel said. “When I went home to shower and change clothes, I brought you back some lentil soup from the Mediterranean Kitchen. That should be good for what ails you.”

I followed her into the kitchen and stood out of the way while she heated the food in my microwave, put it in a soup plate, and handed it over. (Had I been left to my own devices, I would probably have heated it in the styrofoam container and eaten it from same. I think I had forgotten I actually owned soup plates.)

“Thank you,” I said.

“I remembered how much you liked the soup the other night.”

“Not just thank you for the soup,” I said. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “But if you’re feeling better, maybe I should go so you can get some rest.”

“Rest?” I repeated. “I’ve been resting all day. When I fell asleep I had a houseful of company. Where’d they all go?”

“Home,” she said. “And that’s where I should be, too.”

“Stay for a little while,” I urged. “At least long enough for me to finish my soup, which is delicious, by the way.”

Mel sat down beside me and watched while I ate. It made me feel self-conscious. “You’re not having any?” I asked.

“I already ate,” she said.

So we sat there in silence for a while, but it didn’t seem that uncomfortable. In fact, it felt fine. It made me think about what Beverly had said-about my finding a life and a mate and doing something besides work. I thought about how it had been the last week-sharing work and coffee and soup and hospital waiting rooms with Mel Soames. It had been nice, far nicer than I would have thought possible.

I finished my soup and pushed the plate away. “The last thing I remember was Ralph Ames saying something about my going to Germany to pick up a new Porsche at the factory,” I continued.

“Sounds like fun,” Mel said. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to drive on the autobahn, where there’s no such thing as a speed limit.”

“You’d probably be good at it,” I said. “Take to it like a duck to water.”

“Maybe so,” she said with a smile.

The depth of that smile made me feel all warm and fuzzy. At first I thought the pill might be kicking in again, but even at the time, though, I was smart enough to wonder if it wasn’t something else altogether-something that had the potential for making my grandmother a very happy woman.

Anne Corley had been gone from my life for a long time. Mel Soames wasn’t.