His raised voice startled me. Even Jackson turned to face him.
“I mean, thank you for the eggs.” His voice sounded calmer as he moved out of the doorway and asked, “Are you going home?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“By yourself?” he asked with concern.
“It’s not far.” I said the words slowly, not hiding how ridiculous his question was.
“Yeah, no.” He shook his head. “I just … can you wait a second … for me to grab a shirt?” He stumbled over his words and then disappeared into his house before I could answer.
I looked down at Jackson. His head was turned quizzically up to me as if to say “That man is strange, right?”
I knelt and rubbed his ears. “Yes,” I whispered, “he is strange.”
A few moments later Luca practically ran out of the door, sliding on flip-flops as he tripped forward. When he realized I hadn’t moved, he slowed and shut the door.
“Ready?” he asked, as if I had been the one making him wait.
I moved forward along the path. He was beside me and Jackson in front of us.
“It’s nice of you to offer to walk me back, but I’m very capable of walking through my backyard by myself,” I said, wishing Luca was not beside me.
He laughed an uncomfortable laugh. “Of course you are,” he said, downplaying the strangeness of his behavior.
Walking me home would be one thing if we were friends or had any sort of relationship, but we weren’t and we didn’t.
“So why are you walking me through my backyard?” I asked, deciding not to let it go.
“You have a really big backyard,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied, “and I have yet to get lost in it.”
“I wasn’t worried about you getting lost,” he said.
“Then what were you worried about?”
“Nothing. What makes you think I was worried?” he asked, keeping his voice light as his eyes searched the trees around us.
What was he trying to see?
We reached the spot where the trail split.
“Thanks,” I said, ready for him to leave. “I can make it from here.”
He continued forward. “It’s a nice walk.”
“Is that why you stare at my house every night? You enjoy the walk?” I hadn’t meant to say that. I hadn’t meant to tell him I saw him there at night by the chicken coop. Nevertheless, it was the truth and the truth should be spoken.
He stopped. I continued forward a few more steps and then turned to face him, feeling bad, though I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t the one who stared at his windows every night.
“I didn’t realize anyone saw me,” he said, his voice embarrassed as he gazed at the ground.
“You aren’t invisible,” I said harshly.
His face became childlike. He looked like he might cry.
“I don’t think anyone else has noticed,” I added. Why couldn’t I be mean to this guy—this man who gawked at my windows?
“You didn’t tell your dad?”
I shook my head no.
“Why not?” he asked, his hands in his pockets, his eyes soft and timid.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He exhaled in relief. “Thank you for not telling him. He’d think I’m some sort of creep who stares at your windows.”
“Aren’t you?” I said, arms crossed, voice angry.
“I’m not watching your windows,” he said softly.
“Then what are you doing?” I said, holding my position.
His gaze met mine. His eyes were beautiful, the color of amber, but they were more than beautiful. They were thoughtful and honest, filled with sorrow and pain and a longing for something. I stepped toward him … it was like a reflex, my body wanting to be closer to the goodness I felt in him.
“There’s a part of me that wants to tell you,” he said, stretching his chin up toward the bright sun, his neck long and smooth.
When he lowered his eyes back to mine, some of the sorrow was gone. The goodness remained.
“I’m listening,” I said, forcing my voice to sound tough, far tougher than I felt.
“I can’t,” he said, apologizing with his tone.
“Why not?” My frustration returned. If he wasn’t watching my sisters and me, then why couldn’t he tell me the truth?
“It’s complicated,” he said cryptically.
“It would help me not think you’re a creep,” I said in honesty.
He cleared his throat. “It’s probably better if you believe I’m a creep.”
The leaves blew around my feet as the wind picked up, gliding down from my house to the trail we stood on. He shivered. Even in the sun, he was cold. Winter would not be easy for him.
He turned. I didn’t want him to leave. I shifted toward him.
“Wait,” I said.
He looked at me expectantly, like I had something to say. I didn’t. My mind was blank. All I could think was I didn’t want him to leave.
“Siena,” he said softly, “don’t go out after dusk.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer or even understand his words. He turned and began a slow pace toward his house.
Six
I stood, unmoving, until he disappeared into the depths of the trail.
When I reached my yard, I stopped where Luca stood every night. I’d never realized it, but there were only a few windows on this side of the house, at least for rooms we used. On the second floor there were the windows in my room and those in two guest rooms that never held guests. On the first floor the stone wall jutted out a bit, creating a little corner where there was a window on both sides; both were in my father’s office and one was permanently covered by a bookcase. The other had drapes he sometimes opened during the day and always closed at night. The only other window on this side of the house was for a closet. There were no drapes or shutters to cover it. Still, there was nothing in the closet worth watching and the closet door was always closed. If Luca moved farther up the hill, he could see part of our kitchen windows … but that was never where I saw him standing. And we pretty much always closed those blinds at night. Unless Luca was watching our vacuum cleaner, there was literally nothing other than a stone wall and partially dead grass to look at.
I climbed the hill to my house. The grass, or, really, weeds around me were kept short, thanks to my grandmother. Small wild strawberries grew throughout the lawn. Most were eaten by the chickens or occasionally by Jackson. One remained. I knelt. This strawberry had survived and was large enough for me to eat and actually taste its sweetness. I lifted it to my lips. My skirt became wet at the knees from the dew-soaked grass as I stared at my house. There was still nothing to see except stone. Did that change in the dark? Why did Luca say not to go out after dusk?
The kitchen door opened.
“What are you doing?” Gigi said while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
I stood. “Eating a strawberry,” I said, and threw the stem into the yard.
“I tried to catch you, but you were already down the trail,” Gigi said, holding the door open for me to enter. “Sam texted and said she was going to the store.”