By the third week, Elora was doing much better.
She could walk a short distance without much assistance.
She no longer needed me to bring every meal to her bedroom.
Sometimes she joined me at the kitchen table.
We even started having breakfast together.
It was nice.
I had grown accustomed to hearing her voice in the morning.
She would ask whether I had slept well.
I would complain about work.
Then she would tell me I needed to stop drinking coffee so late in the evening.
Ordinary things.
Comfortable things.
But the questions about my schedule continued.
One morning, while I was pouring coffee, she asked whether I had any plans for Saturday.
I looked at her.
"Not really."
"Will you be home?"
"Probably."
She stirred her tea.
"What about Sunday?"
I laughed.
"Are you arranging my weekend for me?"
She gave a small smile.
"No. I was just curious."
I sat down.
"Why do you keep asking when I'll be home?"
She looked at me for a moment.
Then she lowered her eyes.
"I suppose I don't like feeling as though I'm in someone's way."
I felt bad immediately.
"Elora, you aren't in my way."
"I know you say that."
"Because it's true."
She nodded.
I reached across the table and touched her hand.
"You can relax here."
She smiled.
But it didn't quite reach her eyes.
I didn't understand that expression.
I thought she was embarrassed.
I thought she was struggling with the loss of independence that came with an injury.
And I wanted to make things easier.
That afternoon, I went to work earlier than usual.
Before leaving, I checked whether she had everything.
Her medication was on the table.
Her water was beside the bed.
Her phone was charging.
I reminded her that I would probably be home around five.
She nodded.
"All right, sweetheart."
I left.
At around three, I received a message from her.
Are you still at work?
I answered that I was.
A few minutes later, another message arrived.
Do you think you'll be late?
I looked at the screen.
I didn't understand why she needed to know.
Still, I replied.
Probably around five, as planned.
She sent a simple thank-you.
I put my phone away.
There were several things I needed to finish before leaving.
But the messages stayed in my mind.
Why was she so interested in my movements?
I tried to find a reasonable explanation.
Maybe she wanted to avoid asking me for help when I was busy.
Maybe she wanted to know when to prepare herself for dinner.
Maybe she was simply lonely.
I chose the explanation that made me feel least suspicious.
That evening, I returned home at exactly five.
Elora was in the living room.
She looked at me as I entered.
Then she glanced toward the spare bedroom.
"You're home."
I put down my keys.
"I told you I would be."
She smiled.
"Yes. You did."
I noticed a small cushion lying on the hallway floor.
I picked it up.
"Did this fall?"
She looked at it.
"Oh, I must have dropped it."
I placed it on the sofa.
Nothing more was said.
A few days later, something else happened.
I had planned to go shopping after work.
But I changed my mind because I needed to finish some paperwork at home.
I arrived earlier than expected.
When I entered, Elora was standing near the spare bedroom.
She was holding her phone.
She looked up quickly.
Then she slipped the phone into her pocket.
"You're early today."
"Plans changed."
"Oh."
I smiled.
"Did you need anything from the store?"
"No, thank you."
I walked toward the kitchen.
As I passed her, I noticed that she was watching me.
Not in an ordinary way.
It was as though she had expected something else.
I turned around.
"Elora?"
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling okay?"
She nodded.
"I'm fine."
I believed her.
Or perhaps I wanted to.
That evening, I sat beside her while we watched television.
A commercial came on.
She turned the volume down.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you ever regret getting divorced?"
I looked at her.
The question caught me off guard.
I hadn't expected it.
"Sometimes I regret the years I spent trying to save something that couldn't be saved."
She nodded slowly.
"That makes sense."
I looked back at the television.
Then she spoke again.
"Do you think you would have stayed if things had been different?"
I took a breath.
"I don't know."
She didn't ask anything else.
I was grateful.
I didn't want to spend another evening thinking about Shane.
A little later, she reached for her tea.
Her hand trembled slightly.
I took the cup and placed it on the table.
"Careful."
"Thank you."
We sat quietly.
For a moment, I felt the same affection I had always felt toward her.
Whatever had happened between Shane and me, Elora hadn't caused it.
She had been kind when kindness mattered.
I didn't want to forget that.
The following morning, she asked whether I was going to work.
I said yes.
She asked whether I would be returning late.
I told her I wasn't sure.
Then she asked whether I could let her know if my plans changed.
I looked at her.
"Why?"
She hesitated.
"I just don't want to be surprised."
I nodded.
"All right."
I didn't think about it again until lunchtime.
I had finished an appointment early and decided to stop by the house.
I hadn't told her.
I opened the front door quietly.
The house was silent.
I called her name.
No answer.
I walked toward the spare bedroom.
The door was closed.
I knocked.
"Elora?"
There was a pause.
Then she answered.
"Yes?"
"It's me."
She opened the door.
Her expression changed when she saw me.
She looked surprised.
Then she stepped back.
"You're home already."
"Yes. I had a little time."
She nodded.
I noticed that the drawer beside her bed was open.
There was a small stack of papers inside.
I didn't look closely.
She moved slightly, and the drawer closed.
"Have you eaten?" I asked.
"Not yet."
"I'll make something."
"Thank you."
I went to the kitchen.
While preparing lunch, I found myself thinking about the way she had reacted.
I knew I was becoming suspicious.
And I didn't like that feeling.
Elora had never given me a reason to distrust her.
I reminded myself of that.
I reminded myself of the afternoon she had held my hand after my divorce.
I remembered her words about Shane.
I remembered all the times she had called simply to ask whether I was doing well.
I decided I was being unfair.
After lunch, I helped her arrange her pillows.
She asked whether I had any plans for the next day.
I answered that I might visit a friend.
She nodded.
"Will you be gone long?"
"Probably a few hours."
"All right."
I looked at her.
She was smiling.
But the smile disappeared when I mentioned that I might return earlier.
I noticed.
I said nothing.
That night, I lay awake longer than usual.
The house was quiet.
I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
I thought about the questions.
The phone messages.
The way Elora seemed unsettled whenever I arrived unexpectedly.
I tried to connect them.
But I couldn't find a clear reason.
Perhaps she was planning something.
Perhaps she wanted to surprise me.
The thought made me smile.
Then I felt foolish.
Why would she need to know my schedule to surprise me?
I turned over and closed my eyes.
The next morning, she seemed cheerful.
She asked whether I wanted tea.
I told her I had already made coffee.
She laughed.
Then she asked whether I would be working the entire day.
I paused.
"Yes, Elora."
She nodded.
"Have a good day."
I picked up my bag.
"Thank you."
At the front door, I turned back.
"Do you need anything before I leave?"
"No."
"Call me if you do."
"I will."
I stepped outside.
The door closed behind me.
And for the first time, I found myself wondering whether Elora was waiting for me to leave.
I hated that thought.
So I pushed it away.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: As Her Leg Improved, I Thought Our Arrangement Was Almost Over, Yet Her Questions Became More Frequent Just When I Expected Them to Stop
I Thought I Was Simply Helping a Woman Who Had Never Stopped Treating Me Like Family, But Something About Her Request Stayed With Me
Part 3 of 20
