Page 26 of Nora's Kraken

Opening the door to my Range Rover where it’s parked down the street, I help her inside and close the door behind her before climbing in the driver’s side.

“Where to?” I ask, starting the vehicle before typing the address she gives me into my phone’s GPS.

Another pulse of relief as I see how far it is to her home. Not only for the additional time it affords us together, but because she won’t have to make the long trip by bus.

Our conversation as we leave downtown and head for her neighborhood is light, slightly impersonal, but a welcome change of pace after the fraught end to our time at the aquarium. Nora seems to relax a little, too, now that she’s not being forced to deal with topics far heavier than should be allowed on any first date.

She tells me about the work she does at Tandbroz as a shift manager, some of the new release books she’s been enjoying, the drink she ordered the morning I saw her at Second Cup.

A job she likes, but doesn’t love, if the tone of her voice is any indication. Epic fantasy and cozy romance. A hot chai latte.

I tuck each detail away, hoarding them like the avaricious creature I am. I’m greedy for this woman, for every little part of her, and I can’t dredge up even the slightest sense of shame for treasuring anything and everything she’s willing to give me.

The sky opens up with a deluge of rain mid-way through our drive, and I’m more thankful than ever she’s trusted me enough to see her home safely.

When we finally make it to her neighborhood, Nora directs me down a tree-lined boulevard. It’s a quiet street filled with older homes, and the one we’re parked in front of has been converted into apartments. The area seems safe, though I can’t help but squint out into the dark, rain-soaked night, looking for anything that seems out of the ordinary.

Inside the car, we’re cocooned in soft, percussive sound and darkness as the rain continues to fall. In the engine’s hum and the warmth from the car’s heater, it’s a small pocket of privacy made just for us. Nora’s still settled back against her seat, looking at me with a question in her eyes, but not making any move to get out of the car.

I’m not going to rush her. I’d stay here all night if she wanted to, talking or just looking at her. It doesn’t really matter.

“Thank you,” she says finally. “For tonight. I’m sorry it got a little… heavy there, toward the end. But I had a nice time.”

It’s a lukewarm compliment, or at least it seems to be in the face of everything I’m feeling.Nicedoesn’t even begin to cover it. Not by a thousand leagues.

“No apologies,” I tell her quietly. “I had a wonderful time with you. And I’d like to see you again, Nora. Although I think you already know that.”

Saying I’d like to see her again is the understatement of the century. The millennia, probably.

When she doesn’t reply, I dare to press a little more. “Is that something you might want as well?”

Nora looks up at me with big, uncertain eyes. “I… yeah, I think I do. But there are a few things about my life that make this… complicated.”

She seems to consider what else she wants to say, and with no desire to rush her, I wait quietly and patiently.

“Mr. Blair mentioned that you have a knack for getting to the bottom of a problem. For knowing things.”

I nod slowly, feeling the ax of the consequences I probably deserve for invading her privacy hanging over my head.

“And what do you know about me?”

It’s no use lying to her, not when I’m so determined for there to be honesty between us. Though I’m not proud of myself, I fess up.

“I know you once were involved with Daniel Sorenson. And I know you used to go by the name Nora Wheeler.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all. I now know a bit more about Sorenson than I ever would have cared to, but there’s a lot more information available about him than there is about you.”

Nora is quiet as she considers that. No force on Earth could compel me to speak again, to offer some other explanation or any excuses for my behavior, not until she has the chance to say what she needs to.

Outside, the rain continues to pelt the top of the car and the windshield, muffled sound that fills the spaces between us.

“That part of my life is over,” she says finally. “But it’s still something I struggle with every single day. Things with Daniel and I… they ended badly.”

From the weight of the pain and exhaustion in her tone, I suspect that’s another colossal understatement.

“He…” she starts, and then trails off, a flash of shame on her features. “He tried to find me. A few years ago. I left without telling him where I was going or giving him any way to contact me. But a friend from DC who did still have my number called and let me know that he… didn’t take it well.”

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