“We walked and talked and sometimes laughed, my arm across Ninon’s shoulders, hers around my waist. The air carried the scent of water and flowers. Ninon seemed to welcome the times when the drizzle strengthened to rain, forcing us to take shelter under a tree or a picnic pavilion roof, so she could rest. The walking seemed to wear her down, but she insisted on continuing. Near the Centre Island wharf we stopped at a café. “You should use the hand-dryer in the washroom to dry your hair,” I sugge...sted. Shivering, she replied, “Good idea.” I got a couple of big mugs of hot chocolate and took them to a table. In a few minutes she returned, sat and reached for her drink. I noticed the inside of her forearm was clear. The needle mark was gone. I didn’t ask about the blood test. She’d tell me when she wanted to. She took a sip of the chocolate, swallowed and shivered again. “That’s better,” she said. “I’m glad we came, even though the weather is lousy.” We watched a family of mallards waddle through the drizzle to the edge of the lake, then plop in and swim through the rain-dimpled water.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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