Chapter 5 — The Man Who Stayed in the Dark

Water filled Evelyn’s mouth.

She tried to draw breath and found none.

Something struck the side of the car.

A hand caught her coat.

She could not tell whether she was being pulled up or dragged farther down.

Then a voice said her name, and she woke choking into a pillow.

“Evelyn. You’re in your room.”

A nurse’s hand rested on her shoulder.

She pulled away.

The darkness stayed.

It had stayed for six months.

Sometimes she woke expecting the ceiling of her childhood bedroom. Sometimes the white hospital lights.

Every morning, she had to remember all over again.

“Do you want some water?”

Evelyn shook her head.

The nurse waited.

“Your new companion is coming today.”

“I didn’t ask for one.”

“I know.”

“Then tell him not to.”

“He’s already downstairs.”

Evelyn turned her face toward the wall.

The man knocked.

Nobody at the rehabilitation residence knocked anymore. They announced themselves while opening the door, as though blindness had made privacy unnecessary.

He waited.

Evelyn said nothing.

After a while, he knocked again.

“If you’re asleep, I’ll come back.”

His voice was rough.

Not simply low. Damaged, as though each word scraped on its way out.

“I’m awake.”

“May I come in?”

“Would you leave if I said no?”

“Yes.”

She listened to the silence beyond the door.

“Come in.”

His footsteps stopped several feet from the bed.

“I’m Luke.”

“Do you have a last name?”

“Not one you need to use.”

“That’s an odd introduction.”

“I’m not very good at them.”

Something rustled.

“I brought breakfast.”

“There’s a kitchen downstairs.”

“I was told you didn’t like their eggs.”

“I don’t like eggs.”

“That explains it.”

She almost smiled.

It annoyed her.

He set a tray on the table.

“Toast. Pear slices. Tea.”

“How do you know I like pears?”

“Rosa told me.”

Of course.

Evelyn pulled the blanket higher.

“Tell Rosa I’m alive. That should satisfy her.”

“She knows.”

“Does Nathaniel?”

Luke did not answer immediately.

The pause was familiar.

So was the careful way he moved the table toward her without letting it strike the bed.

“He knows you’re here.”

“I asked whether he knows I’m alive.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell him to stop sending people.”

Luke’s chair scraped softly.

“If you want me to leave, I will.”

She turned toward him.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you keep sending breakfast back.”

“That’s a terrible reason.”

“It’s the one I have.”

He came the next morning.

And the next.

He never told her to be grateful.

He did not praise her for taking three steps farther down the corridor.

When she spilled tea, he handed her a cloth before cleaning the floor.

When she asked where something was, he described its location instead of taking her hand and placing it there.

After a week, she began waiting for the knock.

She hated that, too.

One afternoon, he brought a small radio.

“I thought you might want some music.”

“I have a phone.”

“You throw it at people.”

“Only once.”

“I thought I’d give you something cheaper.”

Evelyn laughed before she could stop herself.

The sound felt strange in her throat.

Luke went quiet.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You sound pleased with yourself.”

“I am.”

He switched on the radio.

A woman was explaining how to remove stains from a carpet.

Evelyn listened for a moment.

“This is your idea of entertainment?”

“I was hoping she’d explain the tea.”

She held out her hand.

“Give it here.”

His fingers brushed hers.

She became still.

There was a ridge of rough skin along his thumb.

A small scar near the knuckle.

Her hand closed before he could withdraw.

“Were you injured?”

“A while ago.”

“How?”

“An accident.”

“You have a lot of those?”

“Enough.”

Evelyn released him.

The radio host moved on to furniture polish.

Neither spoke until the segment ended.

Luke asked her to walk in the garden.

She refused for three days.

On the fourth, he said, “You don’t have to enjoy it.”

“That’s an excellent invitation.”

“You might hate it. At least you’ll have something new to complain about.”

She sat up.

“I don’t complain that much.”

He said nothing.

“Luke.”

“I’m trying to think of a polite answer.”

She held out her hand for the cane her mobility instructor had given her.

He did not take it away.

Outside, she followed the edge of the path while he walked beside her.

He told her where the benches were.

He warned her about a low branch.

When she asked what was blooming, he said, “Something purple.”

“That narrows it down.”

“I can ask.”

“Don’t. I prefer your confidence.”

They stopped beneath a tree.

Evelyn touched the bark.

It was warmer than she expected.

“How long have you worked here?”

“I haven’t worked here before.”

“Then why did they hire you?”

Luke shifted beside her.

“I knew someone who could recommend me.”

“Rosa again?”

“Something like that.”

Evelyn traced a crack in the bark with her finger.

“People keep doing things for me without asking. They decide where I live, who stays with me, what I’m ready to hear.”

“I’ll ask.”

“You just did.”

“I’ll keep asking.”

She turned toward his voice.

“Don’t promise things because you think I need to hear them.”

“All right.”

“No speech?”

“No speech.”

For once, she stayed outside until the nurse came looking for her.

Claire visited on Fridays.

She brought updates about the case, requests for signatures, and news of Audrey’s lawyers.

Audrey had claimed she had fled after receiving threats and had been afraid to return.

Evelyn’s confession complicated everything.

The altered messages complicated it further.

Claire had not stopped challenging either.

“Do you want me to come more often?” she asked.

“No. You have other clients.”

“I also have a car.”

Evelyn smiled faintly.

“Friday is enough.”

“Who’s helping you here?”

“Someone named Luke.”

“Do you like him?”

Evelyn considered the question.

“He listens.”

“That’s a start.”

Claire placed Evelyn’s phone in her hand.

“I’ve put my number first in your favorites again. Don’t let anyone tell you I’m unavailable without calling me yourself.”

“I won’t.”

After Claire left, Evelyn kept the phone beside her pillow.

The storm came after midnight.

Evelyn was returning from the bathroom when something struck the window.

Glass shattered.

She froze.

Wind swept through the room, lifting papers from the bedside table.

Something sharp stung her ankle.

She stepped backward and hit the chair.

The darkness seemed to close around her.

“Luke?”

No answer.

She could not remember how far she was from the bed.

“Luke.”

Her voice grew louder.

The door opened.

Fast footsteps crossed the room.

“Evelyn!”

She knew that voice.

Her hands rose before he reached her.

“Nathaniel?”

He stopped so abruptly that his shoes scraped against the floor.

Rain blew across her face.

For several seconds, she heard only their breathing.

Then he said, roughly, “It’s Luke.”

She reached toward him.

His hand met hers.

“Your voice.”

“I shouted. I shouldn’t have frightened you.”

Evelyn’s fingers moved over his wrist.

The pulse beneath them raced.

“Where were you?”

“In the hall. I heard the window.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I need to get you away from the glass.”

“Don’t leave me here.”

“I won’t.”

He lifted her only after she nodded.

She rested against him as he carried her through the doorway.

His chest moved unevenly beneath her cheek.

In the next room, a nurse cleaned the cut on her ankle.

Luke remained beside the bed.

Evelyn held his sleeve throughout.

When the nurse left, she still did not let go.

“Are you going to tell me I’m safe?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you wouldn’t believe me.”

Her throat tightened.

“What will you say?”

“That I’m sitting here. You can keep hold of my sleeve. If I need to move, I’ll tell you first.”

Evelyn lowered her head.

Tears slipped onto his wrist.

He did not wipe them away until she turned toward him.

“Why are you doing this?”

His thumb paused beside her cheek.

“Because I couldn’t bear it if you stopped asking me to stay.”