Ned took a bite of the apple, unhappily. He heard, “I’m sorry, Meg, you have to allow us to worry. You can’t stop that any more than we can stop you going.”
He thought about heading back outside. Wasn’t sure he felt good about hearing this. His stomach was tight again.
“Ned’s fine,” his father said. “A bit jet-lagged. Yes, of course he’s concerned, tries to pretend he isn’t.” A pause. “I think he likes the set-up well enough. Who knows at that age? He’s made a friend already, it seems.” Another silence. “No, he hasn’t started his essays. Honey, we’ve been here three days.” He stopped again. “Yes, I’m working. Doesn’t mean—”
His father stopped, and then, surprisingly, laughed.
Edward Marriner’s laughter was different when he was talking to his wife, Ned realized.
“He’s out on the terrace with the others,” he heard, and moved back through the kitchen door, to be out on the terrace with the others.
Melanie glanced up. She didn’t wink or anything, just looked at him.
A little later he heard his father call his name and he went back in and took the phone. His dad walked away.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey! How are you?” The connection was pretty good. His mother sounded the way she always did.
“I’m cool. Nice house. A pool and stuff. Come visit.”
She laughed. “Wish I could. Send me jpegs. There’s a satellite link at our base.”
“Okay. So, hey, you all right?”
“I’m fine, sweetie. Busy. There’s lots to be done.”
“I’m sure.”
“They badly need doctors here.”
“I’m sure,” he said again. “Well, all right, okay then, good talking. You take care.”
“Ned?”
“Yeah?”
A little silence. “I really am fine.”
“I believe you.”
A small laugh; he knew that laugh. “Make your father believe me.”
“Not easy, Mom.”
And that was about as much as he intended to say. She was smart, though, she was really smart, and he could tell from the silence that she was trying to think how to reply. “Leave it, Mom,” he said. “Just keep calling.”
“Of course I will. Dad says you’ve made a friend.”
“Yeah, I’m quick that way.”
Another silence, he was a bit sorry about that one.
She said, as he’d been pretty sure she would, “Ned, don’t be angry. Doing this is important for me.”
“Sure,” Ned said. “And you’re doing a lot of good. Stay cool, keep phoning. Don’t worry about us. I’ll get started on my essays soon.”
She was silent again, he could hear her breathing, far away, could picture her face right now.
“Bye, Mom,” he said, and hung up.
It had become necessary to get off the line. He stared down at the phone and took a few deep breaths. He heard his father come back in. He turned around. They looked at each other a moment.
“Damn it to hell,” said Edward Marriner.
Ned nodded. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Exactly.”
His father smiled crookedly at him. “Watch your language,” he murmured. And as Ned smiled back, he added, with a rueful shake of his head, “Let’s go for dinner. I’ll let you have a beer.”
they went to a bistro on the road east, a place out of town towards the mountain, but not so near as to worry Ned about what had happened earlier.
Melanie had picked the place. She had about twenty restaurants in her notebook: phone numbers, specialties, hours. Probably all the chefs’ names, Ned thought. In green ink.
Everyone else had some kind of special asparagus appetizer, and fish, but Ned stayed with steak and frites, a chocolate mousse after, and was happy enough. His shoulder hurt but he’d known it would. His father did actually offer him half a beer but Ned passed. He didn’t much like beer.
His new cellphone rang as they were walking back to the car.
“Damn,” said Greg. “Damn! I knew it was a hotdate. How does he get chicks to call him so fast?”
“Better swim trunks,” Melanie said.
“Right. And how would she know that?”
“Women know these things,” Melanie said. It was dark in the parking lot, but Ned was pretty sure she winked at him.
The stars were out by then, winking themselves in a blue-black sky, and the moon, nearly full, had risen while they were inside. He walked away from the others, his sandals crunching on gravel, and answered the phone.
A woman. Not Kate Wenger.
“Hello, is this Ned? Ned Marriner?”
Not a voice he’d ever heard. Speaking English, slight British accent.
“It’s me. Who is this, please?”
“It is you. I’m so glad. Ned, listen carefully. Did anyone hear you ask that question? You need to pretend you’re talking to someone you know.”
“Why do I need to do that?”