to his thought. And he had responded to hers.
That was enough of a shock to make him drop his hands and step back. What was he doing? What were they doing?
And he was glad he had broken the contact when the door of the shed opened. Whirling, he found himself staring at Polly Kramer.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No. We were just coming back to the house,” Matt managed to say, hearing the thick quality of his own voice and not quite able to meet the older woman’s eyes.
“Are you all right?” Polly asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair. “Yes.”
Polly turned back to the house, and Matt waited a beat before asking Elizabeth, “Does your head hurt?”
“Yes. What do you think that means, Doctor?”
He laughed. “I can speculate, but I don’t know.”
By mutual agreement, he turned and walked out of the shed, and she followed. He didn’t have to see her to know she was walking behind him.
He wanted to talk about what had happened between them. The sexual pull. The memories. And something even more startling. Actual words exchanged in their heads.
“You heard what I said?” he asked.
“Yes.”
There was no need to explain he was talking about the silent exchange.
“I turned the chili down,” Mrs. Kramer said when they stepped into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth answered. She went straight to the pot, stirred it and tasted.
“How is it?” Matt asked, his voice still sounding not quite normal.
“Good.”
“We should eat,” Mrs. Kramer said. “You two sit down, and I’ll serve.”
“I can get us all a glass of water,” Matt said, thinking it was a lame comment. But everything felt stilted now except the intimacy of being with Elizabeth.
“We can serve ourselves from the stove,” Mrs. Kramer said.
They all did, then sat at the table, which would be a perfectly normal thing to do, except that nothing would ever be normal again.
That was a pretty exaggerated way to put it, but Matt knew it was true.
“Where are you from?” Elizabeth asked him, startling him by breaking into his overblown thoughts.
He struggled to deal with the question. “New Orleans.”
“What did your parents do?”
“My dad was an oil company executive. My mom sort of did the country-club thing. They live in Santa Barbara, California, now.”
“Were you an only child?”
“Yes,” he answered, thinking that his mother had told him she’d had a lot of trouble getting pregnant. She’d been torn between wanting another child and not wanting to go through the rigors of a fertility clinic again. Although that had been her decision, she’d made it clear that he hadn’t been the loving son she’d wanted. But he didn’t tell the women he dated any of that.
“Did you grow up down there?”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth was staring off into space.
“What?” he asked.
“New Orleans.”
“What about it?”
“I remember stuff about the city. I mean I can picture...Jackson Square,” she said.
“You’ve probably seen pictures.”
“I think I’ve been there. And the French Market.”
“Okay.”
He waited for her to give him more information, but she only shook her head. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
“We’ll assume you’re right.”
“If it’s true, it gives us something in common.”
He nodded, wondering if it was important, and why it might be.
“Do you know how to cook pain perdu?” he asked.
“French toast?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s easy.”
“What about gumbo?”
“I have a general idea of what’s in it, but I’d have to look up a recipe if I wanted to make some.”
“Most people would, I think.” He looked at Elizabeth. “Where are you from?”
The answer to the question lurked below the surface of her mind. “Nice try,” she murmured.
“I thought I’d give it a shot.”
They were all silent for several moments while they ate.
“Well, this chili is delicious,” Mrs. Kramer said, as she spooned up more of the beans and beef mixture.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth answered.
Again they resumed eating, and Mrs. Kramer broke the silence once more as they finished the meal. “How did you get so far north?” she asked Matt.
“I went to medical school at Hopkins. After...” He stopped and glanced at Elizabeth. “After Africa, I decided Baltimore was as good a place as any to practice medicine.”
“You intend to settle down here?” Mrs. Kramer asked.
He involuntarily glanced at Elizabeth again, thinking that everything they said had a double meaning or a subcontext that only the two of them could really follow.
“I...don’t know.” He cleared his throat, changing the subject abruptly as he looked at Elizabeth. “Do you want to try hypnosis?”
“What?”
“With many people, it can help recover memories.”
“You mean now?”
“After we finish eating.”
“You know how to do it?”
“I had a class,” he said. “We could try it.”
Elizabeth gave that some consideration. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Just
