The City of Mirrors (The Passage 3)

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t understand. Why did you do that?”

“Why don’t you pull into the driveway? We can have us a talk.”

She glanced around in confusion.

“You go on now,” he assured her.

Rather reluctantly, she turned the Denali into the driveway and shut off the engine. Carter stepped to the driver’s-side window again. The motor was making a quiet ticking sound. Hands locked on the steering wheel, Rachel stared straight out the windshield, as if afraid to look at him.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be doing this,” she said.

“It’s all right,” Carter said.

Her voice sharpened with panic. “But it’s not all right. It’s not all right at all.”

Carter opened her door. “Why don’t you come and see the yard, Mrs. Wood? Kept it nice for you.”

“I’m supposed to drive the car. That’s what I do. That’s my job.”

“Just this morning planted one of those cut-leaf maples you like. You should see how pretty it is.”

For a moment she was silent. Then: “A cut-leaf maple, you say?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded pensively to herself. “I always thought it would be just the right thing for that corner. You know the one I mean?”

“Absolutely I do.”

She turned to look at him. For a moment she studied his face, her blue eyes slightly squinted. “You’re always thinking of me, aren’t you, Mr. Carter? You always know just the thing to say. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend like you.”

“Oh, I expect you have.”

“Oh, please. I have people, sure. Lots of people in Rachel Wood’s life. But never anyone who understands me the way you do.” She looked at him kindly. “But you and me. We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

“I’d say we are, Mrs. Wood.”

“Now, if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. It’s Rachel.”

He nodded. “Anthony, then.”

Her face opened as if she’d discovered something. “Rachel and Anthony! We’re like two characters in a movie.”

He held out a hand. “Why don’t you come on now, Rachel? It’ll all be fine, you’ll see.”

Accepting his hand for balance, she exited the car. By the open door she paused with great deliberateness and filled her lungs with air.

“Now, that’s a wonderful smell,” she said. “What is that?”

“Cut the lawn just now. I suspect that’s it.”

“Of course. Now I remember.” She smiled with satisfaction. “How long has it been since I smelled new-mown grass? Smelled anything, for that matter.”

“Garden’s waiting on you. Lots of good smells there.”

He made a circle with his arm; Rachel let him lead the way. The shadows were stretching over the ground; evening was about to fall. He steered her to the gate, where she came to a stop.

“Do you know how you make me feel, Anthony? I’ve been trying to think how to say it.”

“How’s that?”

“You make me feel seen. Like I was invisible until you came along. Does that sound crazy? Probably it does.”

“Not to me,” said Carter.

“I think I sensed it right away, that morning under the overpass. Do you remember?” A feeling of distance came into her eyes. “It was all so upsetting. Everyone honking and yelling and you there with your sign. ‘HUNGRY, ANYTHING WILL HELP. GOD BLESS YOU.’ I thought, that man means something. He’s not just there by accident. That man’s come into my life for a purpose.”

Carter opened the latch; they stepped through. She was still clutching his arm, the two of them like a couple walking down the aisle. Her steps were solemn and measured; it was as if each one required a separate act of will.

“Now, Anthony, this really is lovely.”

They were standing by the pool. The water was perfectly still and very blue. Around them, the yard made an effulgent display of color and life.

“Honestly, I can hardly believe my eyes. After all this time. You must have worked so hard.”

“Wasn’t any trouble. I had some help, too.”

Rachel looked at him. “Really? Who was that?”

“Woman I know. Named Amy.”

Rachel pondered this. “Now,” she declared, raising a finger to her lips, “I believe I met an Amy not too long ago. I believe I gave her a lift. About so tall, with dark hair?”