This Very Moment

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “I never did thank you for that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You and Nicole were my friends when I needed some, and I wanted to contribute in any way I could to that friendship. As sort of a payment, I guess.”

  Now Bill’s hands gripped hers. “No need. You did so much already. You were her friend when I was here studying. She talked about you all the time.”

  “Those were good days,” Kylee said. “What came after . . . I . . .” She trailed off.

  They fell silent, but it was a comfortable silence, one that didn’t send sharp pains through Bill’s gut. He wondered fleetingly if the mind-numbing loss and agony would have been different after Nicole’s death if Kylee—or someone like her—had been there to mourn Nicole with him. Nicole’s parents lived far away, and Bill’s own parents had died years before. His brother Jourdain had been there, of course, but he was soon wrapped up with the woman who would become his wife. Jourdain had found religion as well and had tried to use his new church’s doctrine to help Bill, but he had wanted no part of it.

  “Where have you been these past years?” Bill asked Kylee now, unable to keep the question in. “I mean, have you been fundraising all this time?”

  Her smile dimmed, and for an instant he thought he saw a pain as deep and far-reaching as his own. “For all but about six months,” she answered, her voice hollow. “I was married briefly, but it didn’t work out.”

  Bill knew there was much more but didn’t feel he had the right to invade her privacy. Her revelation answered his question as to why she had never again tried to contact Nicole. She had obviously been occupied with her own problems.

  “All these years I thought you two were happy,” Kylee continued. “I really did.” Her hand glided along his bare arm, soft and comforting. “If I had known, I would have been there.”

  He placed his hand over hers. “I know that now. Thank you.”

  After another brief silence, Kylee withdrew her hand and slid back to her side of the couch. Bill was relieved to have his own space returned to him, and yet . . .

  “Well, I guess I’d better go and let you get to bed,” Kylee said. “We can’t have you falling asleep during your surgeries, can we?”

  “I don’t do many surgeries on Sunday.” He suddenly didn’t want her to leave. Despite his dread that she would ask for something he was unprepared to give, her presence had filled the loneliness he endured daily.

  Kylee laughed, coloring slightly. “Oh yeah, that’s right.” Her eyes wandered over the room, as though searching for a new topic. “Really nice place you have here. A little bare but very spacious and open. Tell me, do you still draw? Where are all your drawings? You know, for a while there, I thought you might give up medicine for the arts.”

  “Not a chance, it was always a hobby.”

  “You know, those children could use a plastic surgeon,” Kylee said. “I mean they have someone already, but I don’t know his qualifications. If I raise the funds I think I will with the TV ads, we’ll need more doctors.”

  Bill choked on his drink. For a brief instant he heard Nicole scream, and in his mind he saw the burned child in Kylee’s video. “No,” he said shortly. “I can’t be involved. I have too heavy a load as it is.”

  Kylee stared at him, her eyes wide at his terseness, but she didn’t pursue the matter further. “Okay. So where are your drawings? You do still have them, don’t you? Will you show them to me?”

  Bill nodded, and though he didn’t want to show them to her or see them himself, he felt obligated to Kylee for his outburst. Besides, he would do anything to change the subject. “Come on.” He led her into the corridor and up the stairs, giving her the grand tour along the way.

  “This is nice,” she said. “But what’s this room for?”

  “It’s supposed to be an exercise room.”

  She laughed. “Everyone knows doctors are too busy to exercise—unless it’s tennis or golf.”

  “Ha! You’d be surprised. About a half a dozen surgeons I know go every night to the gym.”

  “You’re a member of a gym?”

  “I don’t go much.” Bill headed for the closet.

  “You know, this would make a good art studio,” Kylee commented. “I bet it gets great light with those windows.”

  Bill smiled, not admitting that he had once shared the same notion. He tugged at a box in the corner of the closet, bringing it to the center of the room. Then he brought out a stack of larger drawings that he had propped inside the closet between two pieces of thick cardboard. He blew off the dust before taking out the first drawing.

  “Oh, these are beautiful! Exactly like I remembered. Look at this one. It’s Nicole the way she looked after catching that big fish. It’s perfect.”

  “She hated that drawing. She said she looked too smug.”

  “But that was how she looked that day.” Kylee’s green eyes were bright and sparkled with amusement. “Remember how she teased us about not catching any?”

  “I didn’t use a hook,” he confessed, with a laugh. “I thought if we didn’t catch any, we could make do with your bread.”

  “Good one. I never thought of that.”

  They thumbed through the charcoal and pencil drawings, laughing as they remembered adventure after adventure. Bill hadn’t looked at the drawings since he had packed them away after Nicole’s death because he’d thought it would bring too much pain. Yet with Kylee it was bearable and even comforting. For the first time, he felt as if Nicole were near, though he knew she was gone forever.

  The moment shattered when Kylee pointed to a drawing of a young girl with long dark hair and expressive dark eyes. “Who’s this?”

  Bill’s smile faded as he recognized the drawing he had done five years earlier, the only one he had drawn since Nicole’s death. There was more to the girl in the drawing than innocence; there was something ethereal, or perhaps fragile. He admitted to himself that he had captured his subject perfectly.

  “Pauline.”

  “Who is she? She looks like an angel.”

  “She was—if you believe in that sort of thing.” For a moment Bill debated whether or not to say more. “Her brother was caught in the subway bombing in Paris, the one that took Nicole’s life. Her parents managed a café nearby and came running when they heard the noise from the bomb. Their children were coming home from school on the train, and they all made it out safely—except their oldest boy who got trapped in the debris when he went back to help someone.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He sustained kidney damage and nearly died, but he recovered and eventually received a transplant.”

  “How did you come to sketch her?” Kylee looked again at the drawing. “She’s so serious, and yet I can see the love in her eyes.”

  “She saved my life that day.” Bill heard his own voice as though from far away. “I was kneeling on the ground by Nicole’s body, knowing that my life had ended. I felt so alone. Alone enough to lie down beside Nicole and die. Then this little girl runs up to me and throws herself in my arms, hugging me and saying words I couldn’t even understand because I was in such shock. She cried with me as though my pain were her own, and suddenly I knew I was going live. It might not be much fun, but I was going to live.”

  Kylee was silent, and it felt good to talk, so he continued. “Pauline’s mother and aunt were helping out with the other bombing victims, even while awaiting news about their own son. I helped them get a lady to an ambulance, and then went back to Nicole. I don’t remember much else of that day, just Nicole and little Pauline’s face. I never saw her again. I drew this from memory.” He glanced at Kylee and found her staring at him, tears in her eyes. “I did send my brother later to her house with Nicole’s ring, the one I gave her our last year in grade school.”

  “The one that spelled out love?”

  “That’s the one. I wanted Pauline to have it. She had as much love inside her as Nicole had.” Bill’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Fun
ny thing is that Jourdain met Pauline’s aunt that day, and not long after that he joined their church and married the aunt.”

  “He married this girl’s aunt, yet you never saw her again?”

  He nodded. “I left France about then.” He wished he could stop there, but he couldn’t. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Pauline’s dead now. Two years ago, Jourdain sent me back the ring.”

  “How?” Kylee’s touch on his arm was gentle.

  He sighed wearily. “AIDS. She was born HIV positive. Her parents died of it after she was born, and she and her sister were adopted by their aunt and uncle—their other aunt, not the one Jourdain married. They had three or four other kids already, including the boy who was hurt in the subway. When they adopted her they knew it was only a matter of time until Pauline died.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kylee said. “I guess that explains the look on her face. She is an angel.”

  Bill didn’t reply, but turned to the next drawing, a lake scene. “This was Nicole’s favorite.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Slowly Bill’s peace returned. He found Kylee’s presence intoxicating and wondered at the emotions inside him. Already he had shared more of himself with her than with anyone since Nicole. Her laughter was infectious and her concern genuine. He didn’t want the evening to end, despite the painful memories many of the drawings evoked.

  “I know it’s terribly late, but how about I get us a snack?” he asked when they were nearly through the box of drawings.

  “I am hungry,” she admitted. “As good as Julius’s food is, I’m always too nervous to eat much at those banquets.”

  Bill climbed to his feet. “You didn’t look nervous.”

  “I was.” Her eyes glistened as she stared at a portrait of Nicole in her doctor’s smock, holding a newborn infant. She met Bill’s gaze. “Thank you so much for showing me these. This might sound corny, but I somehow feel redeemed for not being there. Like I’m able to say goodbye.”

  Tears pricked at the back of Bill’s own eyes. “You’re welcome.” He left the room quickly, allowing them both time to compose themselves. He knew exactly the right the snack to make. It was a little sweet, but it would fit the moment. Now if only he had all the ingredients.

  * * * * *

  Kylee smiled gratefully as Bill left the room. Here she had come to help him mourn Nicole and she was the one who was crying. She wiped her tears and thumbed through a few more drawings. Most were nature scenes, but there were many portraits as well. Nicole was often the subject, and each drawing of her told Kylee how much Bill had loved her. Many of the early ones, when Nicole was the little girl next door, were crude, but the later ones were very good. If he had cared to, Kylee was sure Bill could have done well in the art world. But then, Kylee believed that most people would be good at anything they put their minds to. It was simply a matter of combining determination and dedication, qualities her ex-husband Raymond had never possessed. She discovered too late that he wasn’t able to face trials without crumbling. Looking back, she knew it was inevitable that he would leave her. The memory brought a terrible anguish that overshadowed the sweet thoughts of Nicole.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up a drawing of a woman sleeping on a couch. She blinked twice and held the paper closer. She was looking at herself. Kylee instantly recalled the night it must have been drawn. She had been at a benefit dinner and had been too tired to drive home. Nicole’s apartment was closer, and since Kylee had a key, she had opted to stay at Nicole’s as she had often done before. Nicole was out with Bill that night, who was back from the States on a school break, but Kylee knew her friend wouldn’t mind. She sat down to watch a little TV, but her eyes grew heavy, and she had fallen asleep on the couch. Bill must have brought Nicole home sometime later and seen her there. Had he gone right home to his brother’s apartment and drawn the scene from memory?

  In the drawing Kylee was lying on her back, one arm above her head, face relaxed, her features softened by shadows. Kylee thought she looked more beautiful than in real life, and her heart took on a curious rapid beating. Did Bill see her that way? Then again, perhaps she had been more beautiful back then, before Raymond had stolen her belief in love. Certainly she had been more innocent and carefree. Maybe that was what made the drawing so special.

  Pleased but embarrassed, Kylee hid the drawing under the stack she had already seen. She stretched out on the floor to uncramp her legs while she waited for Bill. Exhaustion settled over her. For a brief moment she closed her eyes.

  * * * * *

  After rummaging through his entire pantry to find a half-full sack of marshmallows, Bill finally returned to the room with his battered serving tray full of s’mores, fresh from the toaster oven—only to find Kylee asleep on the floor. In repose, she looked much younger than her thirty-two years. She was beautiful and vulnerable, though a bit more guarded than when he had known her in France. Had her husband done that to her?

  He gingerly removed her silver high heels. When she didn’t stir, he picked her up gently, carried her to his room, and laid her on the bed. As he tucked several of his quilts around her, he thought she would wake, but she sighed and snuggled deeper into the warmth of the bed. That she didn’t stir further told him how exhausted she must be. He watched her for a moment before leaving with a blanket under his arm. Tonight he would sleep on the couch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kylee awoke in the morning with a general sense of confusion. Where was she? Then she remembered. “Oh, no,” she muttered. What had Bill thought about her falling asleep like that?

  She pushed off the blankets, feeling the cooler air of the room assail her bare legs. The sequined gown had worked its way up to her waist, and she pulled it down, frowning at the wrinkles. She hoped they would come out with dry cleaning.

  She went into the master bathroom to splash water on her face and rub the smudged mascara from beneath her eyes, wishing she hadn’t left her purse in the car. The extra set of makeup she kept in it would have come in handy. Oh well. She ran her hands quickly through her hair, restoring it to some semblance of order. Now to find Bill and take her leave. There was a lot she had to do before church that morning.

  Peeking into the exercise room, she saw the drawings still lying on the floor. A tray of foil-wrapped objects and a tea kettle of milk had been set nearby.

  “S’mores!” she exclaimed, grinning. The milk was likely unusable, but the s’mores might still be good. She picked one up, opened it, and tasted the contents. They were cold, but with a little toasting, they should be edible. Carrying the tray, she walked down the stairs and into the spacious kitchen where she found a toaster oven. “Perfect.” She turned it on and slipped the s’mores inside.

  She had seen no sign of Bill. Where was he? She headed for the sitting room and found him lying on the couch, stretching. “Hey, sleepy head,” she said. “How about s’mores for breakfast?”

  Bill groaned and sat up. “Only you could eat something that sweet for breakfast.”

  Kylee laughed. She did have the biggest sweet tooth of anyone she knew. “Oh, come on, Bill. Try it.”

  “Okay, as long as it’s not fish. I guess.”

  “Do you have anything I could wear? I know it’s pretty, but I’m really sick of this gown. Do you know how it feels to walk like a mermaid for a whole day?”

  He grinned, cocking his head back to look up at her. “I’ll find you something. It might be a little big, but . . . tell you what, pick out whatever you want.”

  They turned off the toaster oven and went upstairs to his closet. Kylee chose a long-sleeved striped polo that went halfway to her knees and a pair of gray sweats with a draw string. She changed in the master bathroom and when she reappeared in the bedroom, Bill smiled.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  She scowled. “Tell me right now!”

  “I was just thinking that you looked gorgeous in that dress, but now you look adorable.”

  Kylee
sighed. “Puppies are adorable. Never mind, let’s get downstairs before our breakfast is ashes. Even with the oven off the s’mores still might burn.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want bacon and eggs? I thought all Americans ate eggs or pancakes for breakfast. Don’t you know how to make pancakes?”

  She smiled at him sweetly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make them for dessert.”

  And she did.

  “I’ve never tasted such wonderful pancakes,” he said, pouring a stream of syrup over his third stack. “You’re a good cook,”

  She grimaced. “It was the one thing my ex knew how to do well. He loved good food, and I learned from him. Funny thing is, I actually enjoy it. Cooking, I mean. It’s therapeutic.”

  “Cheaper than a shrink.”

  Kylee pulled one leg up to her chest as she sat on her chair, leaning her arm over it to reach her food. “I hear ya.”

  After breakfast, Kylee glanced at his clock. “Uh-oh. I’ve got to get going. I have to teach Sunday School in an hour and a half. It’ll take me nearly an hour to get home and I need to shower and change.” She bounced to her feet and grabbed her folded dress from the extra chair. “Where did I leave my shoes? Okay if I return your clothes later?”

  “Sure,” Bill replied. “But since when did you get religious? I don’t remember you ever attending any church.”

  “I’ve been going for a while now.” She purposely avoided his gaze. He was right; she had never frequented any church, despite Nicole’s occasional invitations. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it some time. But not now. I have to get going.”

  Kylee wasn’t ashamed of her faith, quite the opposite, but she definitely wasn’t ready to explore her past with Bill, and the painful events that caused her to find religion—at least not yet. Though she should probably explain how her religion tied in with meeting his brother in France. Not that it would make a big difference to him.