The Heart Heist

by Alyssa Kress

  Gary held his hands out to either side, refusing to accept the knife. "Please, Kerrin. For one thing, I don't know how."

  "So why doesn't Matt do it? They're mostly his fish."

  Gary appeared abashed. "I lost a bet."

  "A bet?" Kerrin shook her head. Men. Or maybe she should say, 'boys.' "I guess you shouldn't have made that bet, then, hey?"

  "Apparently not." His dark eyes suddenly had dancing red tints in them. "At the time it seemed like a sure thing. Come on, Kerrin." Taking her by the shoulders, he positioned her directly in front of the fish.

  Tingles went down her arms from his touch. "Oh, all right, Gary, I'll do the first one. To show you how. But you have to do the rest."

  "It's a deal."

  But it was clear after Kerrin made the first incision that Gary wasn't going to be cleaning any fish. From his position watching over her shoulder, he gave a muffled groan and turned aside.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, Gary, you couldn't possibly be that squeamish," Kerrin exclaimed.

  "Mmm." Gary went to the other end of the kitchen and dropped into a wood chair with chipped white paint. "I know it doesn't make any sense. Once it's filleted I'll eat the thing with pleasure."

  Kerrin looked at the knife in her hand and wondered if Gary's reaction had anything to do with the reason he'd felt so protective of Elaine. Christ, how did a man who got physically ill at the sight of a fish being cleaned survive in the atmosphere of a prison?

  "Oh, speaking of eating," Kerrin remembered. She bent over her task. "My parents want to know if you can come over to dinner some time next week."

  "Me?" Gary sounded nonplussed.

  "You. You are the town's only working teacher at the moment. Matt's in your class and I'm your boss. So I guess it makes sense to them to make some kind of friendly, social overture." Kerrin dumped the fish intestines into the garbage. "But don't worry, I'll make your apologies."

  Gary sat silent a moment, watching Kerrin. "You don't want me to come?"

  Kerrin's face warmed. "I didn't say that. You're the one who said you didn't want to come."

  "Did I? I don't remember doing that." Gary turned so that his legs had room to sprawl in Kerrin's direction. He tipped his head. "Do you want me to come?"

  "You can do whatever you want."

  "That's not what I asked. I asked if you wanted me to come. Can you answer that question?"

  Could she? Yes or no. It should be as simple as that. Kerrin bent further over the next fish, pursing her lips to control her expression.

  Meanwhile Gary rose from his seat at the table. The air temperature seemed to rise about a hundred degrees as he stalked toward her. The surface of her skin rippled as he came to a stop by her side. With one hand, he reached out and took her chin. He turned her head so that she had to look at him; she had to meet those dark brown eyes.

  "Can you answer the question?"

  Kerrin swallowed. All of the blood in her body seemed to have lodged below her throat, preventing her from breathing. She had the sensation of perching on the topmost curve of a high and wild rollercoaster.

  "Uh, wh ‑‑ what question?"

  He smiled. Those mobile lips of his curved in a way that totally enchanted her. "Good enough. Tell your parents I'll be there."

  He didn't let go of her chin, though, and the air grew heavy around them. Gary's lashes lowered and Kerrin knew he was studying her mouth. That knowledge made her knees do their famous marshmallow act. Memory of his previous kiss outweighed any apprehension.

  The doorbell rang.

  "That'll be Elaine," Gary announced, quickly stepping back. There was a flush under the tanned skin of his face.

  "Elaine?" Kerrin quickly shoved aside a peculiar mix of relief and disappointment. "What's she doing here?"

  He paused by the door, leaning on the jamb. "I'm hiring her to do my housecleaning and laundry. If that meets with the principal's approval?"

  Kerrin stared at him. So that's why he'd rented the house, as a vehicle for the job she'd suggested he give Elaine. Suddenly everything she knew about this man added up in a calculation that made perfect, crystal-clear sense.

  "It does," she replied hoarsely.

  With a curt nod, Gary pushed out through the door. Kerrin continued to stare, however, at the place he'd just been. The reflected aura of her astounding revelation hovered there.

  No, Kerrin thought. No, it wasn't possible. But she could swear she still saw the shadow of it, a knight's sharp-tipped sword, right there in the vinyl tile of Gary's kitchen floor.

  ~~~

  Matt could have killed whoever rang the doorbell. Just when Gary was finally getting a chance to be alone with his sister in the kitchen. Cursing softly, he wheeled swiftly for the door, abandoning his perusal of a very interesting book he'd found by Gary's telephone. It was just a local telephone directory, but there'd been two highly peculiar aspects about it.

  For one thing it was stamped: Property of WawaNeemah Hotel. Over that a second rubber stamp announced: PAID. Gary had apparently paid for a stupid telephone directory from the hotel.

  The other thing about the book that was strange was far more disturbing. In red ink Gary had started making notations beside every name in the book. The notations were either a "No" or a question mark. Some question marks were crossed out with "No" written beside them.

  Curious, Matt had turned to find his own family name in the book. He found two large "No"s and two regular-sized question marks. Four notations. Four people living at that phone number. Gary was making some kind of survey of every single person who lived in Freedom. Matt had just been pondering the possible reasons for such a study when the doorbell had rung.

  Now he reached up for the handle and swung the door open. A tall, slightly built girl stood on the porch. Her gray eyes widened considerably when she beheld Matt.

  "Elaine?" Matt frowned. "What are you doing here?"

  She took a step back, hugging her arms around her waist in a strange, self-protective manner. "Matt, wh ‑‑ what are you doing here?"

  "I was just about to leave." Matt hoped his imminent departure avoided having to explain that he'd been socializing with the teacher.

  Elaine straightened her shoulders a bit. "Well, Gary asked me to come help clean up. Nobody's lived here for at least six months."

  "And you are? I mean, helping him?"

  "It's a job, Matt."

  Just as Matt was trying to assimilate this unexpected information, Gary came striding out of the kitchen. There was a wide, friendly smile on his face as he approached. "Elaine, come on in. You know Matt, of course."

  Elaine and Matt shared a glance and both muttered appropriate noises in the affirmative. Matt watched Gary put a hand on Elaine's shoulder to guide her into the house. He saw the way Elaine's awkward stance relaxed under Gary's strong, brown hand.

  "I thought we would start in the kitchen," Gary was telling Elaine, "but I've got Kerrin in there doing a rather delicate operation on some fish."

  "Ms. Horton's here?" Elaine's glance went briefly, unreadably, toward Matt.

  "Yes, but she won't get in your way. In the meantime, maybe we better start in the back with the bedrooms, huh? And remember, you let me do all the heavy stuff."

  "Fine, Gary." Her voice was soft and submissive.

  Gary threw Matt a grin. "It's terribly demeaning to the male ego for a woman to show she has any muscles. Right, Matt?"

  Matt, with his elbows propped on the arms of his chair, folded his hands across his middle and frowned. "Right."

  Elaine threw Matt another swift look. She was figuring, no doubt, that Matt wouldn't be in the business of lifting anything for a woman, or even for himself. He had a sudden fantasy of Elaine watching in astonishment as he bench-pressed two hundred.

  "All right, Gary, the fish are done." Kerrin came bursting out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "And you owe me one. Oh, hi, Elaine."

  Elaine quickly dropped her gaze. "Hello, Ms. Horton."
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  Matt saw Gary and Kerrin exchange a look behind Elaine's downturned face. Part of him relaxed. Whatever was going on with Elaine coming over here was apparently no surprise to Kerrin.

  She now turned to Matt with a smile. "You ready to go?"

  "Sure." Trying to read his sister's face for what might have transpired in the kitchen was an impossibility. For once, that expressive face of hers wasn't giving anything away.

  "Uh, Kerrin. Just a minute before you go." Gary turned briefly to Elaine. "Why don't you go on to the back? I'll meet you there in a sec."

  Nodding, Elaine started down the hall.

  "Hey Matt! Wait a minute," Kerrin called, as Matt began the tricky negotiation of Gary's front porch steps by himself.

  "Leave him be," Gary's rasping voice commanded low in Kerrin's ear. "He can handle it."

  Kerrin kept her worried gaze fixed on Matt, who was balancing his chair between one wheel and an arm on Gary's rickety banister. Gary pulled her just inside the door.

  "That kid is stronger than I am," Gary stated, caging Kerrin against the wall. "Well, almost. Anyway, we didn't finish our discussion."

  As Kerrin recalled, their discussion had degenerated to a point where neither one of them had been talking and Gary had been staring at her mouth. Now he wasn't staring at her mouth, thank God, but his gaze was rather intently focused on her face, reading her expressions only too well.

  His lips curved upward a fraction of an inch. "I want to make something clear that might have been left a bit fuzzy. The other day in the library, when I told you I wasn't going to kiss you again ‑‑ ?" His smile broadened. "Well, I only meant that particular time right then. I didn't mean at any point further in the future."

  While Kerrin was still reeling from this announcement, he brushed his lips lightly against hers. The gesture brushed against every nerve ending up and down her back.

  She closed her eyes and put a hand to her mouth, but that didn't stop the rippling effect.

  "Good-bye, Kerrin," Gary said, a restrained and satisfied amusement in his voice. "See you Monday."

  Kerrin made an indistinct sound and scurried out the door. It was not, she understood, the way a sophisticated lady of twenty-seven years of age should act. When it came to men and kissing, however, Kerrin felt about as old and wise as her younger brother.

  ~~~

  From a position just outside Gary Sullivan's bedroom door, Elaine could see her teacher and the school principal framed in the hall opening. She saw the way Gary caged Ms. Horton against the wall; saw, but didn't hear, the whispered, flirtatious exchange, and then that light, butterfly kiss. Elaine put a hand to her lips, just as Kerrin did, almost feeling the kiss herself.

  God, how she longed for something like that, something tender and affectionate. A word would be enough, though Elaine had to admit she dreamed of kisses. Not from her teacher, of course. True, Gary was a knight in shining armor, rescuing her from her dad the way he had, but he was way out of her reach and besides, he was totally ga-ga over Kerrin. Everyone knew that.

  Elaine stepped through Gary's bedroom door and moved toward the window that looked over the backyard. She pulled aside the curtains. Just as she'd suspected, the windows were filthy with old rainwater. She stayed there, gazing at the view of the old oak tree standing in the overgrown lawn. In her mind's eye, though, in her usual way, she saw something else altogether.

  Matt Horton. Good Lord, she'd nearly had a heart attack there on the porch when he'd opened the door. It was the wholly unpredicted realization of a long-cherished fantasy and, of course, she'd blown the whole thing. He'd looked at her with those beautiful golden eyes of his and she'd barely been able to look back at him, let alone speak a word. Matt was the most fascinating male creature Elaine had ever seen. Bar none. The fact that he was confined to a wheelchair only heightened his allure. Naturally.

  And Matt thought Elaine was about as interesting as a knot of wood, which is just how she'd behaved. Like a knot of wood.

  Funny how things always turned out so differently when she was just imagining them. Then everything went smoothly and she came out terribly cool and collected, with an aristocratic smile and just the right words.

  Something made Elaine turn her head. Gary was standing in the doorway. She straightened abruptly.

  "Um, the windows," she said. "They have to be washed."

  Gary shifted his gaze toward the paned glass. Elaine sensed indecision.

  "The rest of the house will never look quite clean unless the windows are," she explained. She had a sudden, comforting vision of Gary bringing Kerrin into this house, once Elaine had fixed it up all nice for them.

  He gave a curt nod. "Okay, you've sold me. So, how much extra is that going to put me back?"

  "Oh, nothing extra," Elaine hastened to assure him. He was already paying her an exorbitant price just for housecleaning.

  He grinned broadly. "Don't be absurd. Everyone knows cleaning ladies don't do windows."

  Cleaning ladies. Somehow Gary made the profession sound dignified, almost exalted. This was so absurd she actually smiled. "We'll argue terms later. In the meantime I could use a bucket."

  "Yes, ma'am. Oh, and Elaine?"

  "What is it?"

  "Don't get too carried away on the windows. I'm only going to be here till the end of the summer. After that the windows are really Marge Hellman's problem."

  As he turned and left the room, Elaine watched her germinating dream of Gary and Kerrin making it a permanent home shatter into sad little pieces. True, most teachers didn't last in the small town, most were on their way somewhere bigger and better. But Elaine frowned at the open doorway and remembered the way she'd seen Gary lower his head over Kerrin's a moment ago. For a man on the move, Gary Sullivan was sure acting settled.

  ~~~

  Kerrin knew there was only one thing to do when she was feeling like this, and it involved Humphrey Bogart. Fortunately, she was not reduced to begging her family's indulgence in letting her watch her DVD of "To Have and Have Not" yet another time. There was a Bogart festival going on at the Bishop Rep Movie House, gasoline in the car, and her usual state of absolutely no plans on a Saturday night.

  But Kerrin wished she'd checked the schedule before impulsively setting out on her mission. In red plastic letters, the marquee in Bishop announced that tonight was the gangster classic, "High Sierra."

  Great. Just what she needed. A movie about a gangster on the run from the law. Standing in the colorfully paved outer lobby of the theater, Kerrin didn't make a move to buy a ticket. Instead she glared up at the glassed-in poster of Bogart, a pistol in each hand as he faced down the posse that had him holed up in the mountains. Damn, but the man even looked like Gary!

  "Kerrin?"

  The elegant voice froze her in her spot. Oh no. It wasn't possible. He'd gone away, back to Boston. He wasn't supposed to come back. Slowly Kerrin turned to face the man who'd been her nemesis last winter, the one she'd been so sure was her white knight.

  He was back. Nevertheless, she decided to question the evidence of her eyes. "Victor?"

  He was smiling. His perfect, golden Greek smile, the one that used to turn her heart over in her chest. Now her heart only gave a chagrined little kick. Victor had made it very clear last January that he thought her little town pathetic and the entire Owens Valley provincial. He was on his way to tenure at Harvard in cultured New England. Somewhat desperately on his way, Kerrin recalled, counting on this documentary of his to pave the road. What the hell was he doing back here?

  "I just got off the phone with your father," Victor now told her in the cultured accent that didn't sound nearly as beguiling as it had last January. "But he didn't mention you were on your way to Bishop." Victor gave a brief glance up at the Bogart poster. "I should have guessed you'd end up here, though. You always did like Bogie, didn't you?"

  Victor gave her a conspiratorial smile. Suddenly the fact that Victor Bothmann knew something so personal about her made Kerrin a little
ill. Had she actually confessed something so near and dear to her heart ‑‑ to Victor, of all people?

  "Shall I buy us tickets?" Victor asked, touching her arm. His touch was firm, but didn't send little shivers of electricity up her spine the way that Gary's did. Victor's touch never had sent little shivers of electricity, come to think of it.

  Kerrin looked at Victor, feeling more at ease. "To tell you the truth, I think I may have seen this film one too many times."

  "Wonderful. Then we can talk. Let me buy you a cup of cappuccino." Victor's gaze was attentive. But now Kerrin had Gary's gaze with which to compare it. There was no comparison. Victor's expression was devoid of the animal sensuality never far beneath Gary's surface.

  How could she ever have dreamed that Victor was interested in her?

  But as she took a seat across from Victor at Bishop's one, city-style café, she understood her mistake. Before Gary, she hadn't a clue about the true nature of physical desire. She'd confused it with the persistent, even oppressive, diplomacy Victor was now handing out. Ignoring his coffee, he insisted she relate the mundane details of the past six months in Freedom. He drank up her highly edited narrative as though this were the most intriguing recital he'd ever heard.

  Kerrin imagined this was exactly how Victor must behave with the university faculty committee. Perhaps he was practicing on her.

  Gary, Kerrin thought with respect, wouldn't have bothered pretending. If he thought something was bullshit he'd come right out and say so. He was, in his own way, remarkably honest. He wouldn't say something he didn't mean.

  And then the moment Kerrin had been trying to put out of her mind, the one she'd driven seventy-five miles to forget, popped right back into her brain. Gary had told her he was going to kiss her again, and Gary didn't say things he didn't mean. Rivers of hot and cold slid down her insides.

  "Kerrin," Victor asked with a slight frown. "Are you all right?"

  Kerrin looked up, sensing with rue that color was rising in her cheeks. "I'm fine. Just fine." She cleared her throat. "Ahem. you haven't told me what you're doing back in the Owens Valley." It certainly wasn't because he liked the place.