Later Grant found her crying behind the storehouse.
He was nearly sixty now.
Beard gray.
Shoulders still broad.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Good answer.”
She laughed.
“You remember?”
“Everything.”
He put one arm around her.
Eliza leaned into him.
“She asked permission.”
“For seconds?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I gave her more.”
Grant nodded.
“Seems right.”
Eliza looked at him.
“You pulled out a chair.”
“What?”
“That first night.”
“Yes.”
“I thought that was when you saved me.”
Grant's face changed.
“Eliza—”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“You didn't.”
He relaxed.
She continued.
“You just made room.”
Grant looked toward the dining room.
“That seems better.”
“It was.”
At sixty-five, Grant still watched Eliza's mouth.
She caught him during supper.
“Really?”
He looked innocent.
“What?”
“Forty years.”
“Of?”
“Staring.”
Grant smiled.
“I remain interested.”
Samuel, now forty-nine and unfortunately visiting, groaned.
“Please stop.”
Eliza laughed.
Grant leaned closer.
“You keep looking at me like that—”
Samuel stood.
“No.”
Rose laughed.
Grant continued anyway.
“Neither of us is getting much sleep tonight.”
Matthew covered his ears.
Nora shouted from the kitchen:
“You've been saying that for decades!”
Eliza turned red.
Grant looked delighted.
“Still works.”
“It absolutely does not.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Eliza kicked him beneath the table.
Later that night, after everyone slept, Grant found her brushing her hair.
He stood behind her.
“Does it?”
She met his eyes in the mirror.
“What?”
“Still work?”
Eliza smiled slowly.
“Close the door and find out.”
Grant did.
Age changed desire.
It did not erase it.
Their bodies softened.
Ached.
Needed patience.
Humor became more important.
So did asking.
Perhaps especially asking.
Grant never stopped.
“Comfortable?”
“Want me closer?”
“Want me to stop?”
Eliza once laughed during a kiss.
“What?”
He asked.
“You still ask.”
“Yes.”
“After forty years.”
“Yes.”
She touched his face.
“Good.”
Grant died at seventy-four.
Not suddenly.
His heart weakened through one winter.
By spring he spent most afternoons near the kitchen window.
Eliza sat beside him.
Three days before his death, he asked:
“Hungry?”
She smiled.
“You're dying and still asking that.”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”