Than realized as he put down the glass of tea on the kitchen bar that Therese was praying to him again. Sometimes it was difficult for him to discern whether she was praying or speaking out loud, for when he was this close to her, as he was now, with her face less than two feet away, he could hear the voice and the prayers with the same pitch, clarity, and volume; whereas, from a far distance the prayers were clearer to him than speech. He also knew that she wasn’t aware that her prayers to him were heard, for she hadn’t yet accepted the fact of who he was. The human mind interested him in this way, in its ability to play tricks on its owner. As far as Than knew, gods were unable to achieve such feats of self deceit as humans.
Her prayers to him this afternoon, so different from earlier, went something like this, “You are such a breath of fresh air to me after all that’s happened. I hope you stay around a while. I hope I get to know you. You are so cute, Than. So cute and so sweet. What crystal blue eyes you have. What muscles. And the way you fill out your jeans, oh! Never mind! Stop it, Therese! Oh, don’t look at me like that.”
Than had to work hard not to react to the words she did not say out loud, but just now he found himself blushing and wanting badly to press his lips to hers like she had done to him that night they met.
He didn’t want to leave, especially with her silent pleading, but he had to give a few hours to helping his sisters track down the killer—after all, that was his selling point to his father in getting permission to come down here. He couldn’t neglect that duty.
“Thanks for the lunch,” he said. “It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome any time,” Carol said.
Than stood up from the bar stool as Therese took his empty bowl and glass and put them in the sink behind her.
Therese said, “I’m going for a walk with Clifford. If you’re not doing anything, you could come along.” Then she prayed, “Please say yes.”
Than stepped around the bar and looked through the window to follow Therese’s gaze. Her back was to him as she stood at the sink. He wondered what she was looking at. Then he heard her pray, “Save that tree. Don’t let it die.” He saw she was looking at an Elm, one of two that towered behind the house.
“Is that tree special to you?” he asked, again forgetting that she had made her request silently.
She turned to look at him in surprise. “What? Oh, yes. It’s got the Dutch Elm disease. My parents were going to try to save it. I guess I’d hate to see it die… too.”
Than awkwardly patted her shoulder where he had touched countless souls before on their journey down the river, but her warm skin and the tension between them made him uneasy. He looked out the window at the tree. He said, “I wish I could join you for your walk, but I have to go help my sisters with something. I’ll see you this evening, though, okay?”
“Darn,” she prayed in her head. “But I like that you help your family.”
He almost made the mistake of responding to this silent statement. “Thanks…again for the lunch, and for playing your flute for me,” he corrected himself. “I’ll see you later.”
Her hair smelled so fresh and her body felt so warm beside him, that he had a hard time pulling himself away from her company to the dreaded deed of hunting with the Furies.