“Right.”
“How come Jecca’s never seen you?”
Tristan nearly choked. “You have to stop listening to other people’s conversations.”
Nell didn’t reply, just kept looking at him.
He gave in under the pressure. “When I met Jecca itI mren was by accident and it was pitch-dark,” he began. The whole story was innocent enough that he could tell a child. All he and Jecca had done was talk. He told Nell of the evenings he and Jecca had spent together, including the picnic by the lake.
Nell ran her straw about in her drink as she considered what he’d said. “Did you do any kissing?”
“That, young lady, is none of your business.”
Nell waited in silence.
“A little bit,” he said. “Not much.”
“So she’s never seen your face?”
“No, she hasn’t,” Tris said. “But I’m going to show up at Reede’s party and then she’ll see me.”
“I hope she likes your face. If she doesn’t, I’ll never get the playhouse painted.”
Tristan laughed. “Nell, you really know how to put me in my place. I hadn’t thought that she might not find me . . . appealing. Your mother thinks Reede is very pretty. Do you think Jecca might run off with him?” He was teasing.
Nell didn’t smile. “All the girls at school like Scotty because he’s so nice to look at, but he’s mean.”
Tris quit smiling. It seemed that his niece had something serious to say. “But you don’t like him?”
“No. I like Davey, who’s very nice, but he’s ugly.”
“I see. So what does all this mean?”
“I think it’s better if the outside and the inside match. I wish Davey could look like Scotty.”
Tris tried to figure out what she was saying, but then he got it. “You don’t think I should just go to the party in jeans and an old shirt like I’d usually wear to a barbecue, do you?”
“No.”
“Since Jecca has on a fancy dress, how about if we go to my house and I put on my tuxedo?”
“What do I wear?” Nell asked.
Tris took his cell out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Call Miss Lucy. We have a couple of hours before the party. She could probably make you a ball gown in that time.”
Not long after that, he and Nell were at Reede’s party and Tris was in a tuxedo. He’d enjoyed dancing with Jecca, but there was something more important. When she’d first seen him, it was as though she’d looked past what Miss Livie called his “exterior self.” For a moment, just a flash, it was as though Jecca was looking at his soul. He’d stood there and waited while she seemed to make up her mind about something—and Tristan had never felt so naked.
All his life women had come to him easily. At most, all he’d had to do was look at a woman with lowered lashes and she was by his side. This . . . ability of his had caused him problems in his practice, and he’d talked to his father about it.
“Professional!” his dad said. “ sa his practYou have to be professional both in and out of the office. Stay away from your patients. Find a girl that you’ve never held a stethoscope to.”
Tris had always followed that advice, even though at times it had been difficult. There’d been a patient, a young woman, divorced, with a three-year-old daughter who’d almost made him forget himself. When she’d moved away from Edilean he didn’t know whether to be glad or despondent. If she’d left a forwarding address he might have pursued her.
But now that he’d met Jecca he was glad he hadn’t. Neither that woman nor any other had looked at him the way Jecca did yesterday. For the first time in his life, Tristan had felt that his looks counted for nothing. He thought Jecca wouldn’t have minded if he’d been covered in burn scars. She was looking at his inner self, not the exterior.
That he’d passed her scrutiny—her judgment—was the most fulfilling thing in his life. He had passed through medical school based on what he’d learned. But Jecca’s test was based on what he was.
When he’d first seen her through the crowd, she’d been halfway out the door. It looked like the people of Edilean—mostly his relatives—had been ignoring her and she was leaving. He should have been angry about that, but instead, it made him feel more like she belonged to him.