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It was the day of the Luau in Pelican Town. As usual, the townsfolk had united to celebrate the arrival of summer together on the beach. An early evening glow had settled over the festival area, with glimmering rays of sunlight dancing on the water and turning the sand into grains of gold.
Harvey stood beside the drinks table, swirling the glass of tropical punch in his hand. It was not his usual beverage of choice – he would have typically gone for a glass of wine – but it was the Luau after all, and Gus had pressed the glass into his hands before he’d had the chance to object. The bartender had winked at him before dashing off to prevent Pam from making off with her seventh or eighth alcoholic beverage of the day.
‘It’ll put some hair on your chest, doc!’
Highly doubtful. Harvey had more than enough hair on his chest already and he was pretty certain that a single glass of punch was not capable of promoting the growth of body hair, but he obliged nonetheless. He took a deep draught of the sparkling drink and – oh, good lord. He spluttered, almost choking back up what he’d just downed. Just how much vodka had they added this year? He eyed the orange liquid suspiciously. Probably Pam’s doing. She seemed to make it her personal mission to sneak in bottles of spirits at every festival and add them to the punchbowls when no one was looking. Usually, she got caught before she added anything very strong to the mixture, but it seemed that this time she’d managed to infuse it with a rather potent dose of booze.
Harvey groaned. It looked like he was on drinks table duty this evening. He didn’t think Pam would try to add anything else, but, as they say, better safe than sorry. With a heavy sigh, he took the position behind the table.
The sun slowly descended toward the horizon. The food tables had long since been reduced to empty plates, but the lingering smell of Gus’s cooking hung deliciously in the air. It mingled with the smoke of the bonfire at the end of the beach, which cast flickering shadows on the sand, its flames crackling and spitting as they jumped from log to log. String lights surrounding the beach lit up like twinkling beads of amber against the dimming indigo sky. The rhythmic roll of the tide almost drowned into the background by the music and the buzz of conversation, occasionally interrupted by fits of tipsy laughter.
Harvey found that his spot behind the drinks table was a prime place for a bit of people-watching. For a shy man like himself, he found it difficult to initiate conversations with people – or, at least, when he wasn’t fulfilling his duties as their doctor – but he enjoyed being present at social functions. Sometimes, it was nice to just be around other people and simply observe how they interacted with each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the booth where Caroline was attempting to soothe Pierre, whose expression had remained sour ever since the Governor left. Harvey guessed that he had once again missed his chance to speak with him before Mayor Lewis whisked him away to the train station. A few yards away sat Maru and Penny with their backs against the wooden planks of Elliot’s hut, their shoulders touching as they whispered softly to each other. Over on the dance floor, Emily danced alone, her eyes closed as she shimmied in time to the music, completely oblivious to the world around her. Everyone else had either retired for the night or gathered in little clusters around the bonfire and the dance floor.
Harvey’s gaze travelled over the remaining festival-goers before coming to rest on the one face he couldn’t help but always seek out in the crowd: the Farmer.
She stood at the far corner of the dance floor, dressed in a tank top and a set of overalls that she’d washed especially for the occasion. She’d been pretty elusive at this year’s Luau, avoiding the suspicious glares of Mayor Lewis and the Governor after last year’s incident. With the soup- tasting event over (everyone was relieved to see that there were no purple shorts in this year’s soup) and Lewis off to bed, the Farmer had emerged from the sidelines to join in the fun.
Despite her slight dip in popularity last year, the Farmer was well-liked by most of the townsfolk. There was something very genuine about her; a warmth that drew people to her. She was kind and generous, and despite her mischievous streak and fondness for a good prank, her heart was always in the right place. Two years ago, Harvey could never have imagined that this stranger who arrived in the valley would come to mean so much to him. If a younger Harvey, who was decidedly nerdy and uncool, saw him now, he would be shocked to learn that a person like her actively went out of her way to befriend him. To be honest, it was a fact that surprised him even now.
He watched her as she chatted with Sam, Sebastian and Abigail, throwing her head back in hysterics at the conversation they were having. It seemed that Sam had said something characteristically daft if the eye rolls from the other two were anything to go off. Unfazed by his friends’ responses, Sam simply grinned and slung a casual arm over the Farmer’s shoulders as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.
Something stirred inside Harvey, a strange feeling that tangled and knotted in the pit of his stomach. Heat rushed to his ears, and his fists clenched at his side. He couldn’t stop staring at the arm that was draped so nonchalantly around the Farmer’s shoulders. A tiny voice in the back of his mind grumbled, 'That should be me.’
No. Harvey flexed his hand, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling. No, this is wrong, he told himself. You have no right to her, no right to feel this way at all.
He’d had this conversation with himself several times over the past few months. These feelings were irrational, inappropriate, and unprofessional. He’d tried so hard to suppress them, to pretend they didn’t exist, but to no avail. They crept into his every waking moment, the thought of her all- consuming. It was the way she looked at him with such warmth, the crinkle of her eyes when she smiled. It was her going out of her way to give him the first batch of pickles she’d made. The proud look on her face as she handed him a jar. It was how she carried herself with easiness and good humour as though the burden of restoring her grandfather’s farm did not weigh heavy on her every day. How could he not think of her?
But it was hopeless, and he knew it. The Farmer deserved more than him anyway. She was in her mid-twenties and sparkled with youth and life and vigour. Meanwhile, he was a tired, weak man, a plain Jane, rapidly approaching middle age. His hair, while still thick and full, was threaded with silver and styled to conceal the deep frown lines on his forehead. The Farmer enjoyed spending evenings at the Stardrop, playing pool and chatting to the other residents. His idea of a fun evening was painting model planes with a glass of red. For Yoba’s sake, a late night for him was staying up until ten doing paperwork, whereas he knew for a fact that the Farmer often toiled deep in the mines until the small hours of the morning, a habit he’d expressed disapproval of during several of her clinic visits.
That was another thing: he was her doctor. That fact alone raised many issues and gave multiple reasons why pursuing anything beyond a professional relationship was inappropriate. The lines were blurred enough already – being the doctor of such a small, rural town made it hard to distance himself from others so completely. His feelings for the Farmer had to take the back seat. Even the thought of exploiting his position to satisfy his own desires, regardless of how strong they were, made Harvey feel nauseous.
No, the Farmer was off-limits. She was much better suited to someone like Sam, someone closer in age and more energetic – someone who didn’t have access to every detail of her medical history. Not to mention, he was a lot cooler than Harvey could ever hope to be. Not everyone can rock a hairstyle as impressive as his.
Harvey brooded in silence, watching as Sam grinned at the Farmer and said something with a teasing look on his face. The Farmer responded to him with a raised eyebrow which was followed up with a sharp poke in the side, earning her a squeal from Sam as he squirmed away from her, much to the amusement of the others.
The music abruptly changed to a new song with a powerful beat, an anthem that practically demanded to be danced to. Harvey noticed the Farmer’s face light up as she glanced towards the dance floor where Emily was still dancing solo. She nudged Abigail and indicated to Emily, and although he couldn’t hear her, Harvey could read the question on her lips:
‘Come dance with me?’
It looked like none of the three friends were in the mood to join the Farmer on the dance floor. Despite her best efforts to convince them, the Farmer eventually shrugged her shoulders in defeat and made her way over to Emily by herself, bidding a playful farewell over her shoulder with a wave.
It soon became clear that while the Farmer harboured a number of useful skills, dancing was not among them. The corners of Harvey’s mouth twitched as he watched Emily attempt to show her some moves which the Farmer then tried to replicate. The phrase 'two left feet' didn't even begin to capture her lack of grace. It was like witnessing a baby giraffe's first steps; there was no coordination to her movements. She just swung around with flailing arms, barely keeping in time to the music. Poor Emily looked as though she was fighting back the urge to laugh (or perhaps sob) as she tried to catch the Farmer’s hands before they smacked her in the face.
But, despite the Farmer’s objectively terrible dancing, there was no doubt that she was having a blast. She whooped as she twirled Emily around on the dance floor, her laughter almost as loud as the music. Her friends on the sidelines watched the display, visibly amused by her antics. Noticing this, the Farmer motioned to them to join in. When it seemed they were taking too long to decide, she strutted over to them, grabbed Abigail and Seb’s hands and pulled them onto the dance floor. Not wanting to be left out, Sam quickly joined them too, and soon, the four of them and Emily were jumping up and down and bellowing along to the song.
Suddenly, as though compelled by the Farmer’s wild enthusiasm, everyone seemed to descend onto the dance floor. Penny and Maru, Haley and Alex, Robin and Demetrius, Elliot, Leah, and even Shane – all of them were bopping along to the music. The rest of the townsfolk wandered over from the bonfire to watch the fun, their faces alight with smiles.
Gus, having returned from taking a rather drunk Pam back to her trailer, sidled over to Harvey.
‘You’re not joining?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Harvey shook his head with a light huff. ‘No, I don't think they want me out there – you know, creaky knees and all.’
Gus let out a bark of laughter.
‘Don’t make yourself sound so old – you’re not even forty yet!’ he exclaimed, slapping him on the back. ‘Go on, cut loose a bit. Have some fun! Yoba knows you need it.’
Before Harvey could ask Gus what he meant by that, his gaze suddenly locked with the familiar twinkle of the Farmer’s eyes across the floor, and the sentence dissipated on his tongue. An impish grin crept to her lips as she started to dance towards him, swaying her hips in time to the music – well, almost in time. Harvey’s heartbeat quickened as he watched her draw closer, transfixed. She stopped a few paces from him and began to mimic swinging a rope above her head, smiling innocently.
Harvey's eyes widened as she held his gaze.
She raised an eyebrow.
He shook his head just a fraction.
The corners of her eyes crinkled in unbridled glee before she threw the invisible rope in his direction and began to pantomime pulling him in.
Heat flushed in Harvey’s cheeks. What should he do? He turned to Gus for guidance. The older man simply chuckled.
‘Looks like you’re wanted out there after all,’ he said. ‘Go on, doc. Don’t keep her waiting!’ And he shoved him towards the Farmer.
Harvey lost his balance as he stumbled forward. He scrunched his face, braced for impact, but a pair of hands seized his shoulders and kept him from face-planting into the sand.
‘Whoa, I didn’t pull you that hard!’ The Farmer said, a tease in her voice. She helped haul him upright again, then stood back, a hint of concern in her gaze. ‘You all right?’
At this point, Harvey was aware that his cheeks had advanced from pink to beet-red. He didn’t know whether to be grateful to Gus or completely and utterly mortified. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bartender observing the both of them over a bottle of beer, his moustache curling upwards smugly.
Live a little! He mouthed and gave Harvey an encouraging thumbs up.
Harvey sighed and turned back to the Farmer, who was watching him with her head tilted.
‘All good,’ he said, brushing himself off and giving her a bashful smile. ‘No damage done aside from some bruised pride.’
‘As long as that’s all it is,’ the Farmer said, her shoulders easing back slightly. The mischievous twinkle returned to her eye. ‘Hopefully, a little bruised pride won't keep the good doctor from joining the dance, right?’
A smirk stole its way onto Harvey’s face. ‘I don’t know... It might exacerbate the issue.’
The Farmer rolled her eyes. ‘Or,’ she suggested, grabbing his hands. Harvey’s heart fluttered. ‘It could help turn your mind to other things, like killing it on the dance floor with me. Dancing is the cure of all ills, as they say.’
‘Do they say that?’ Harvey had to shout over the blaring music as he let her drag him to the middle of the floor, holding tightly to her hands.
‘No, but they should!’ she yelled merrily in reply.
It took a few moments for Harvey to find his rhythm, but he was quickly swept up by music and the Farmer’s infectious energy, and before long, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Gus was right. It had been a while since he’d let off steam and done something like this. He spun around, arms moving in sync with the music, imagining that he was dancing out of reach of the worries that threatened to ruin his mood. There was no room for anxiety here, only joyful, uninhibited movement.
Even with a crowd of friends on the dance floor, the Farmer kept returning to dance with him. She would catch his hands, and together they twirled around the dance floor, nearly careening into Robin and Demetrius and cracking up as they tripped over their own feet. Her laughter was the melody of his soul. No wine in the world was so rich or as intoxicating as her laugh, and he was drunk on it. Everything else faded into the background, even the unspoken tension that loomed—an awareness of a boundary crossed that left Harvey questioning whether it could ever be uncrossed. Here, now, under the stars, it was simply him and the Farmer, dancing together like nobody was watching. Nothing else mattered.
The moon rose higher in the night sky as the dancing continued. Eventually, Harvey collapsed in the sand, dripping with sweat, his chest aching from laughing and the impromptu physical exertion.
‘My days,’ he panted as the Farmer sank to the ground next to him, looking equally flushed and out of breath. ‘I’m pretty sure my legs are about to give out. How are those guys still going?’
He gestured to the remaining people on the dance floor: Emily, Maru, Penny, Sam, Sebastian and Abigail. Most of the other townsfolk had withdrawn themselves, either to bed or to the bonfire.
‘Well, I think we’re all several drinks down at this point,’ the Farmer said, smiling as she watched Sam try to leap-frog over Abigail. ‘They’re still riding out the buzz.’
Harvey exhaled. ‘Just as long as they don’t end up at the clinic with DUI-related injuries.’
The Farmer gave him a confused look. ‘Why would they be driving anywhere?’
‘No – I meant, Dancing Under the Influence.’ Harvey paused. ‘It was a joke.’
She humoured him with a chuckle. ‘A bad joke.’
'Gosh-darn it.’ Harvey snapped his fingers in mock dejection. ‘My side gig as a comedian is a bust, it seems.’
‘A comedian side gig,’ said the Farmer, raising an eyebrow. ‘Does the doctoring job not pay enough?’
‘It could be better, I guess. I mean, I have a pretty stable income from a certain someone who comes in every other week with a mine-related incident.’
He shot her a pointed glance, which she met with a teasing scoff.
‘Got to keep you in business somehow,’ she said, lounging back with her arms above her head.
‘How generous of you.’
A comfortable silence filled the space between them. Harvey could have easily stayed out here on the sand all night, enjoying the pleasure of the Farmer’s company while the Luau continued in the background. However, the logical part of him knew that it was already late, and he had a pile of medical reports waiting for him to write up tomorrow morning. Not to mention, he was completely wiped from all the dancing, and if he drifted off here on the soft sand, he was certain that his back would have a lot to say about it when he woke up. As much fun as the night had been, it was time to draw it to a close.
‘Well, I think it’s time for me to turn in,’ he said finally, stretching his stiff limbs and getting to his feet. ‘I’ve got to be up fairly early in the morning, and it’s already–’ he looked at his watch and spluttered ‘– ten to twelve?! Good lord, when did it get so late?’
The Farmer hid a giggle behind her hand. ‘Past your bedtime, doc?’
Harvey smiled ruefully. ‘Unfortunately so. Part of getting older is discovering that your bedtimes are getting earlier and earlier. You know, I used to pull all-night benders when I was in college, and I’d still go into lectures the next morning – bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, if a little hungover. Now I can barely function if I get anything less than eight hours sleep.’
‘Pfft, I can’t imagine you on a bender,’ said the Farmer, sitting up to look at him, eyebrows lifted. ‘Doctor Harvey Becker, former party animal. You think you know someone.’
A smile tugged at his lips. ‘Full of secrets, I am.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ conceded the Farmer, nodding in amusement. With a graceful stretch, she lifted her arms high above her head, letting out a long, languid yawn. ‘Y’know, I think I might tap out as well. All that dancing has worn me out.’
‘Not surprised, to be honest.’ Harvey held out a hand to help her to her feet, which she accepted gratefully. ‘You really put your all into it.’
‘Yep, and I’m going to feel it tomorrow, that’s for sure.’ The Farmer straightened up from brushing herself off and glanced at Harvey enquiringly. ‘Want to walk back with me?’
As if he would say no.
After waving goodbye to the remaining people on the beach, the two of them wandered back over the bridge and into town. Dim orange light from the lampposts lit the pathway as they headed towards the town square, shedding soft shadows that shrouded their faces. All the while, Harvey and the Farmer talked to each other about their days ahead, keeping their voices low to avoid disturbing their sleeping neighbours.
Despite how selfish he knew it was to feel like this, Harvey couldn’t help but wish that this night would never end. He listened with a tender smile as the Farmer spoke, recounting the day's events with a contented gleam in her eyes. How he loved her passion, how animated she got when she was happy. She was joy and light and he hoped he’d never have to experience the world without her in it.
‘Looked like you had a blast tonight too, doc,’ she said, nudging him in the arm. ‘Where have you been hiding those slick moves?’
A blush crept up Harvey’s neck. It was okay, he told himself. The Farmer already knew that he attended the exercise classes at Pierre’s on a Tuesday and sworn herself to secrecy. He had no need to hide or be embarrassed.
‘Oh, um. You know... dance aerobics class,’ he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘We’ve done a lot of Zumba lately as well.’
‘Oh really?’ The Farmer looked up at him, a complete lack of judgment in her eyes. ‘That sounds pretty fun. Maybe I should come along and brush up on my moves a bit. I mean, you saw my dancing tonight. You know, I think I might have actually made Emily cry.’
Harvey covered his laugh with a cough. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’
The Farmer gave him a sceptical look.
‘Well, okay – maybe your rhythm needs a bit of work. And maybe also your footwork.’
‘So everything basically,’ the Farmer laughed. ‘Let's face it: I’m a terrible dancer. And I legit think I saw Emily go off and shed a few tears on Haley’s shoulder.’
Harvey grimaced.
‘What?’
‘That might have been after you whacked her in the chest while you were spinning,’ he told her.
The Farmer put her hands to her mouth. ‘I didn’t even notice. Oh Yoba. I hope I didn’t hit her too hard.’
‘In my expert medical opinion, I’m sure you didn’t.’ Harvey patted her on the shoulder. ‘At worst, you winded her slightly. She’ll be fine. Just... maybe hold off on the aggressive windmill arms when you’re dancing with other people from now on.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ the Farmer said, letting out a long sigh. ‘Well, accidental physical assault aside, the important thing is we had fun.’
‘Indeed,’ Harvey agreed, mirroring her sigh. ‘I haven’t had that much fun at a Luau in a long time. I think I needed it.’
A soft smile spread across the Farmer’s face as she looked from him to the ground. ‘Me too.’
They reached the clinic and stopped in front of the door. As he fumbled in his pockets for his keys, Harvey felt a sense of longing overcome him. He’d indulged himself too much being in her company already; continuing this venture would be irresponsible of him, just plain greedy. And yet...
Despite his better judgement, he turned to the Farmer, a question on the tip of his tongue. To his surprise, she was already looking at him with a similarly wistful expression.
Harvey swallowed and hugged his arms to his chest, suddenly unsure of what exactly he was going to ask her. He could feel her observing him with those wide eyes, waiting patiently for him to speak.
‘Would you, erm...’ he began, wincing at his hesitancy. ‘Would you like me to walk you back to your farm? It’s pretty dark.’
His face immediately screwed up. How pathetic did he sound? She didn’t need him to walk her back; she was more than capable of protecting herself. Why did he ask her then? Was he asking for too much? He definitely was. This was a mistake.
Words began to tumble out of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to imply that you can’t walk back by yourself, I just thought it would be the polite thing to ask, and you really don’t have to – aaahhh!’
A haunting screech startled him out of his anxious spiel, and he jumped backwards as a winged shadow glided over their heads. The creature flew over to a nearby tree where it settled on a branch, the light from the lampposts revealing the terrifying monster to be... an owl.
Heat flared across Harvey’s face as he realised how ridiculous he must have looked to the Farmer just then. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure and gather his thoughts.
‘Sorry,’ was all he could manage.
The Farmer’s lips twitched in a barely contained smile but she quickly altered her expression to something reassuring.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ she said in a soothing tone. ‘Owls are sneaky little bastards. They scare me all the time. And as for you walking me back home –’ she added, fixing him with a gentle smile. ‘– I’d very much like that. But I can see you’re shattered, so, for your sake, head on up to bed. I’ll be all right walking myself back.’
Even though he knew she was right, Harvey’s heart still sank in his chest. It’s better this way, he told himself.
Tentatively, he raised his eyes to hers. ‘Are you sure?’
She made a nonchalant hand gesture. ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ve got a sword if things go pear-shaped.’
‘You have a sword on you right now?’ Harvey’s eyes travelled briefly over her frame, unable to work out where she might be concealing a weapon. ‘Where?’
A cheeky grin rose to her lips and she waggled her eyebrows. ‘That’s a secret.’
Harvey let out a snort, his earlier embarrassment melting away.
‘All right,’ he said, feeling a smile growing on his face. ‘I won’t pry. But at least give me a ring when you get in so I know an owl hasn’t taken you hostage or anything. You have my number, right?’ He asked as an afterthought.
Chuckling, the Farmer nodded. ‘You’re actually on speed dial. For emergencies and, well, all things doctor-related,’ she amended hurriedly. ‘Just in case. We both know how clumsy I can be.’
‘You are a little bit disaster-prone,’ Harvey agreed, his heart warming at the thought that he was the first person she would call if she was in trouble –
even if that was partly because he was her doctor.
‘Well, then. I’d best be off.’ The Farmer arched an eyebrow at him as she turned to go. ‘And you’d better be off to bed, Doctor Becker, before you turn into a pumpkin. Farmer’s orders.’
‘Turn into a pumpkin? That’s quite a rare phenomenon,’ Harvey teased. ‘And don’t you mean “doctor’s orders”?’
‘I’m a farmer, not a doctor – that’s you,’ she replied, rolling her eyes dramatically. ‘Trust me, I know all about turning into pumpkins. I am one half the time.’
With a warm smile, Harvey watched her take a step toward the path that led to her farm. But just as she began to walk away, she paused, her head tilting slightly as she glanced back at him. For a moment, an unreadable expression danced across her face, and then she was turning back, closing the distance between them. In one swift movement, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek before she turned on her heels and darted away, calling out behind her.
‘I’ll call you when I get in!’
Harvey stood frozen at the clinic door, his breath caught in his throat as he watched the Farmer disappear into the shadows. He brought his fingers to where the warm press of her lips still lingered on his skin, grasping onto the memory before it faded. Then, after a minute, he unlocked the door and headed inside, trancelike.
At some point, he stepped into his apartment, barely registering the click of the door shutting behind him. It was like he was in a dream as he moved through his rooms, preparing himself for bed. Every now and again, he would reach up and touch his cheek in disbelief, wondering if he had imagined the entire evening.
It was about ten minutes after he’d got in that Harvey’s rotary phone rang, snapping him out of his reverie. He scrambled over to it, snatching up the receiver eagerly. ‘Hello?’
The Farmer’s familiar voice crackled down the line. ‘I regret to inform you that I am dead in a ditch.’
Harvey paused, his tired brain almost convinced by her words for half a second before he recognised the deadpan cadence of her voice.
‘Oh dear, what a shame,’ he remarked, matching her vacant tone. ‘And you were so young too, with so much potential.’
‘I know,’ the Farmer agreed sorrowfully. ‘You’ll make a speech at my funeral, right?’
‘Of course. I’ll even shed a few tears for you.’
Laughter rang through the receiver. ‘Aww, that’s so thoughtful of you. And you’ll wear all black?’
‘Oh yes, and a mourning veil as well, you know, to really nail the look.’
Both of them descended into giggles, and for a moment, Harvey felt like a teenager again, twirling the wire in his fingers and kicking his feet.
After a brief pause to catch their breath, the Farmer exhaled a placid sigh. ‘I just want to thank you for such a fun evening. I had a lovely time with you tonight.’
‘What are you talking about? You were the one who dragged me in and made tonight so enjoyable,’ Harvey protested. ‘I would still be standing at the drinks table if it weren’t for you.’
‘Well, if I recall correctly, Gus helped a little with that,’ she said, her smile audible even over the phone. ‘He gave you the push to join me. I can’t take all the credit.’
‘I suppose that’s true,’ Harvey said musingly, making a mental note to thank the barkeeper at some point.
‘Anyway, I still think I owe you some thanks,’ the Farmer continued, and her voice suddenly sounded shy. ‘I really enjoyed dancing with you.’
Harvey’s heart fluttered with warmth. ‘I enjoyed it as well. And every moment after.’
Quietness settled over the line, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. After a few seconds, the Farmer spoke again, her voice soft. ‘Well, I’d better let you get to bed. Goodnight, Harvey.’
‘Sweet dreams,’ he replied, with deep tenderness as he said her name. He heard her chuckle as she put the phone down with a click.