by Red, Lynn
"What do you see?"
"Bunch of shacks," she said. "Pile of wood. You."
"What do you see aside from that?" Ryan dropped his maul in the thick, springy humus around his feet. "I'm going for something more philosophical, just to get to the point. I don't have much time for diddling around."
"What do you want me to say?" Jamie was starting to feel trapped, and when she felt trapped, she got defensive, prickly, and callused. "That I feel for you? That I feel for these people? I do, God damn it, I do. I'm not heartless, I just don't know what to do, Ryan!"
"That went to a place I wasn't expecting quite so quickly," he admitted. "They're not helpless. They're not pitiful and all that. They're old, some of them past a hundred. Hell, there's a tortoise up the way there," he pointed to a very small shack with an open roof. "He likes the sun, anyway, he's over two hundred. He saw the Civil War, and every damn thing else since. And you know what? About four this afternoon, he'll saunter down and have tea with my aunt and uncle. He grows it himself. Turtles are, you know, good at slow things."
Jamie sighed, a little more heavily than she might have meant. "You're not alone," she said. "There are people on your side. Me and Izzy for two, and I'm sure there's lots more, even Erik wants to help, we're just lost, and you stealing fucking cows and knocking over grocery stores isn't going to help anything."
"They need food, Jamie," he said.
Ryan’s gaze was so hot on her skin that she felt every breath, every thump of her heart. She was flustered, she was irritated at herself, but damn if she couldn't taste his lips without him even kissing her. She was burning hot, and wanting to feel him against her skin, to see if he wanted her as much as she did him.
And when he finally grabbed her shoulder, she knew. Those fingers, warm, strong, gripping her like velvet iron. She knew he felt the same thing, no matter how hard he was going to fight it.
He left his hand there for just a second before pulling it away, but even when it was gone, she felt the ghostly vibration of his heat on her skin. Ryan shook his head, slowly. "They need food more than I need..."
"Me?" she asked. "I can see it in your eyes. I felt it just now."
He turned away. "I can't," he whispered. "Not until I know they're safe. Not until—"
"You're a coward," Jamie said, coldly. "A beautiful, big-hearted, incredibly sweet, giant coward. You know what you're feeling. I know what I'm feeling, and I'm a big old wimp too, because I just let you turn away."
"You know what I am," Ryan said shortly. "You know who I am."
"I do?" she asked, stepping forward and grabbing Ryan. "The only thing I know about you is that you're willing to give up your whole life to help people, no matter what it takes. That's literally all I know about you, but for some reason, you got under my skin."
He chuffed a laugh, dismissively. "So you don't know me, but you're willing to make wild generalizations about my personality?"
There it was, Jamie saw, the grin from earlier. That cocky, slightly smug, absolutely disarming grin. She couldn't stand it, but every time he did that, it made her realize her own weakness. She recognized it, but had no idea where it came from, or why it was for him that she had these feelings.
The two of them stared at each other for a second, Jamie coming to grips with herself, and Ryan apparently wrestling with the same thing, judging from the way he kept moving his hand like he wanted to touch hers, but then backing away. Finally, he did, he laid his hand on top of hers, and let a grin crack his face. The corners of his eyes turned down as he squinted, slightly.
There it is, Jamie thought. His wall is cracking.
And for just a second, it did. The look on his face was pure. She could feel the passion radiating from his hand on top of hers, and then just like before, he clenched his eyes, smile lines wrinkling them at the corners. He shook his head and looked away before he opened them again.
"I need you to meet someone," he said.
"I shouldn't," Jamie started, but trailed off for a moment. "I shouldn't interfere with your life."
He turned back, one eyebrow cocked. "Who’s the coward now?" he challenged. "You're willing to talk about wanting to help these people, but you won't even meet them?"
The words stung. They bit deep, but underneath it all, Jamie knew he was right. She'd watched both her parents grow old and die, and it broke her heart. For a long, long time, she couldn't face reality. Her two years away from Jamesburg, to take care of them, were the hardest of her life, and when she returned, she was different. Everyone noticed, everyone asked, but she'd never let anyone in. She couldn't stand the fact that she'd gotten... scared.
Scared? Is that all it was? Was it just fear? Or was it seeing a little bit of that weakness they showed at the end... in myself?
"Come on," Ryan said, grabbing her hand.
It felt so good to hold his hand, although he was just leading her. This wasn't the sort of hand holding that happened at Sandra Bullock movies, or in the back of a car on a deserted road overlooking a river. But she wanted it to be so badly, and still, she didn't understand her own desire.
"No," she said, digging in her heels. "I can't. I just can't, I—"
His eyes were level when he caught her gaze. "You're scared," he said. "I shouldn't have called you a coward. That was wrong. I can see the fear in your eyes though. What is it? What's making you act like you just saw a," he trailed off, realizing that he'd stumbled upon the truth.
Jamie's mouth moved before she knew what she was saying. "My parents," she breathed. "They... I took care of them. They were so frail and helpless. They—"
"Frail, yeah," Ryan cut in, sensing that she didn't know what else to say. "People are frail. But helpless?" he shook his head. This was obviously close to home for him, too. "They're not helpless. Up until the very end, the very last, they aren't helpless. They've got spirit, they've got heart. Even if they can't feed themselves, Jamie, they're not helpless. They can give us strength."
She was just watching him. She hadn't even noticed that Ryan had taken both of her hands in his. But he was staying quiet, like he could sense that she had something to say, and he was patiently waiting for her to frame the feelings into words.
"I can't promise I won't cry," Jamie finally said. "And when we cry, it's a little weird. Blood tears, the whole thing."
“Trust me?” he gave her another one of those smiles. Those damn smiles with the dimple and the twinkling eyes and the whole thing. She wanted to hit him right in the mouth, or kiss him, but a lot of times for Jamie the impulse felt just about the exact same.
She took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "Do your worst."
-9-
“I don’t know what I was expecting, but this probably wasn’t it.”
-Jamie
The walk to the home of the couple - a pair of koalas who Ryan said had been together for about a half a century to that point, and, in the words of the big bear "will both die within a week of each other. They say it's because no one will hassle them to stay alive, but really it's because they can't imagine living without the other."
As soon as they rounded the well-worn dirt path to the small house, Jamie wrinkled her nose. "Next time I'm having sinus problems I'm coming here. What are their names?"
"Cora and Marmite," he said. "Or, well, Tom, but he goes by Marmite because... well, you'll find out."
Jamie shook her head, but couldn't help smiling as a very loud order to "fold the towels right or don't do it at all" wafted through the air and met her ears. That was accompanied by a very decided chugging sound from what she assumed was a washer or a dryer, judging by the noise.
"Cora?" Ryan called as he knocked on the screen door. The back door was wide open, and the closer they got to the house, the easier Jamie breathed. "Marmite? Cora? You two hear me?"
"Oh of course, you damn fool," came the voice of a very crotchety koala who sat with his feet propped up on the edge of a metal bucket.
"She's right about the towels," Jamie
said out the corner of her mouth. "Gotta go lengthwise first."
Ryan snickered without an ounce of sarcasm. That was enough to lighten Jamie's spirits a little. The hand he had on her back, just above where the neck of her tunic dipped low, also had her smiling enough to be obvious.
"I heard that," Marmite said, squinting one of his eyes.
He was definitely an ancient thing, though through the wrinkled skin and drooping ears, Jamie could see that he had a hell of a spirit. He whistled through his two front teeth, and slid his feet into the bucket. "Gout," he said. "Hell of a thing. Cora! Get in here! Ryan brought a girlfriend."
"Hey, now," Ryan said, defensively. "Not a girlfriend. Just someone who I wanted to meet you. She works down town, at the—"
Suddenly, Marmite's face got very drawn and sour, like he'd just drank a beer that was about six years past it's shelf date. Ryan sensed it and headed off the irritation. "She's not the enemy," he said. "She's trying to help."
"Trying," Marmite said. "Always trying. But never doing. Never helping us old, useless—"
"Lay off her, Marm," Cora said, shuffling out from the back of the house. "Forgive him, dear, he's just... well, bless his heart, he's gotten on in his years and thinks that means he can say whatever it is what comes to his mind. Any friend of Ryan's here is a friend of ours. Are you expecting?"
Jamie smiled and thanked her, and then opened her eyes wide when she realized what just got said. "I'm... I'm sorry?" Speechlessness and blushing were two things not normally part of Jamie Ampton's personality, but getting asked if she was pregnant out of the blue had those exact effects.
"I'm... wait, what?"
"Expecting, dear," Cora was smiling in the way only a grandmother can, "you know, with child. Bun in the oven, what is it they say these days? The name of that funny movie with that unfortunate looking fat boy and the cute girl? Marmite, what was that?"
"Knocked Up?" Ryan asked, helpfully. "That was a good one. Listen," he tried to steer the conversation to other topics, but that wasn't going to happen.
"Yes!" Cora smiled again. "That one. So, when are you due? And it is with Ryan, yes? I always thought he'd make a good father for a brood of cubs. Although, you're going to have to stop wearing such tight-fitting clothes soon, what with the bump and all."
Jamie was just staring, eyes so wide it almost hurt to keep them that way. "I'm not, er, I—"
"Are those wings?" Marmite said, squinting again.
"Of course they are, you damn fool," Cora said, whapping her husband on the back of the head. "She's a halfsie, anyone can see that. Rare things, those. Don't see them often."
Of all the things to get her blushing, that was the one. Pregnancy could be laughed off, hell, even being called Ryan's girlfriend and being advised to stop wearing clothes with slim-fits. But... that? The thing that had haunted her since she was old enough to realize she wasn't like everyone else? Why did that have to come up and why did it have to happen right then?
She felt her face get hot, and she felt anger well up. Not the time, Jamie, she told herself. She didn't mean anything by it. She is just talking. Calm the hell down.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Cora said, sensing Jamie’s discomfort. "I didn't mean anything by it, only that there aren't so many of you around. Used to be more. My best friend as a little girl was – was it the word I used?"
"No," Jamie said, her voice low. "It's just... I don't like to talk about it much."
"Oh humbug!" Cora said, smiling and chipper. She grabbed Jamie's arm and dragged her by it. "Come in here, I've got a photo album I want to show you. I don't have any way of doing all that Face business or the Tweetering. I've got old bones and do things the old way. Come on."
She shot a glance back at Ryan who just shrugged and smiled. He sat down beside Marmite with the bucket, and began to set up the chess board that the old koala had beside him, as Cora and Jamie disappeared. "Want to go a game or two, old man?" she heard Ryan say. "I'll go easy on you."
"Aw hellfire!" the old man swore in one of those cute, semi made-up swears that her own dad used to use in place of real ones. Just that was enough to get Jamie a little misty eyed, but she didn't have long to think about it before she was sat down in front of a massive old book that looked a whole lot like one of those coffee table bibles.
"Look here," Cora said. "I'm sorry dear, if you told me your name, I've forgotten."
She laid an aged hand on Jamie's shoulder and pushed her with a surprising amount of strength, down into the chair at the head of the very old and very well cared for dining table.
"Jamie Ampton, and no, you didn't forget."
"Very good," Cora said with a smile. "I'm Cora Dufresne. Tom doesn't mean all his anger. He's just... he's very protective, and, well, he's a lot like Ryan. But you could probably tell. The way you two were looking at each other, you've got a rare thing. Reminds me of us at your age."
Jamie cocked her head a little to the side. "I didn't know we were looking at each other."
Cora patted her gently on the shoulder. "Sometimes the most powerful looks don't have to be made with the eyes, you know. I saw how his hand on your shoulder made you relax when Tom started getting his cockles all riled up."
Jamie didn't quite know what to say.
"And I'm sorry about the baby thing. I just figured Ryan wouldn't bring anyone around to meet us unless he was planning to court her. He's like that, you know, he acts all rough and tumble, but he's as soft hearted as they come."
Jamie unconsciously brushed one of her tendrils of hair back behind her ear. "I've gotten that from him, but you want to know what's funny?"
"Hmm?"
"I only met him a few days ago. He came into the courthouse and stared down the town alpha. Then I saw him at a friend's field trying to boost a cow, and I bit him."
Cora was giggling. "He does things that get him in trouble. He always has, but he means well, Ryan does. He thinks we need more help than we do. We let him believe it. Gives him a purpose, you know?"
Jamie was, once again, unable to come up with anything to say, intelligent or otherwise.
"When Tom and I met, we were both on the run from families that weren't... well, not supportive, let's put it that way to keep things friendly. We fell in together, and were married a week later. Every one of our friends told us we were crazy, but here we are. Fifty years later. Fifty one," she corrected herself.
"And it feels like a hundred and eighty!" Marmite shouted from the other room.
"Oh, shut up with that," Cora shouted back, though there was a smile on her face. "No one wants to hear an old koala bellyaching!" Then she turned back to Jamie. "Now look here, see this one?"
"With the tail? Is that a dingo-shifter?"
"Mm-hmm. That's Adelaide. One of my very best friends. We grew up together. Lost touch over the years, but she'll send a letter every so often. When I, well, we, I suppose, moved to Jamesburg to settle down a little, she was still sewing her wild oats."
"And she's a... well, she's like me?"
"Oh yes, and it bothered her just like it does you. Are your parents the same?"
"They're dead," Jamie said flatly. "Oh, you meant half... no, they were both regular old folks. Well, as regular as we get, you know."
Cora was smiling, with a look of distant reminiscence on her face. "She always thought the same as you - that being different, you know, it was bad somehow. But it isn't. It took her a very long time to figure that out. I don't think it was until she met... well, until she met someone who looked at her the same way I noticed Ryan looking at you. There's someone for all of us, you know. Someone for all of us to grow old together with, to pester and pick on and jabber with. Someone that will take care of us when we're sick and make us laugh when we're sad."
Jamie found herself nodding along with the things Cora was saying. "Who is that?" she asked, pointing to a very grumpy looking old man. "Marmite?"
"Oh no, dear, that's his father. Apparently with koalas, the grumpiness is genetic."
She chuckled softly and reached over for a stick of something that she began to chew on. "Sorry for the eating, it's just that we have to do it all the time."
Jamie shook her head. "No, no, I understand. Eating for me is something best kept in the dark." She didn't really mean that as a double entendre, but there it was. And there, a few seconds later, was Ryan.
"You show her your deepest secrets?" Ryan asked.
Cora looked at him with a very cross, grandmotherly face. "Now don't you know how rude it is to barge in when two ladies are chatting? You've no idea what you'll overhear."
Ryan raised his hands in a defensive gesture, but they were both smiling. "Old man beat me twice already, says he won't play me again because it makes him dumber."
Cora was shaking her head.
"Anyway, I'm guessing it's about time for us to head out, anyway. Don't want to take up any more of your time. “Thanks for showing her the pictures. What did you look at anyway?"
"Oh, just some old memories. Good ones. The kind that make you smile when you think about them, even though you know those times are long gone."
Ryan gave Jamie a questioning look, but Jamie just shrugged. She let her shoulders relax when his hand went there, although this time, she was conscious of what Cora told her when they first walked into the kitchen. Maybe she's right, she thought. Maybe...
Ryan was leading her away, and at some point, the hand on her shoulder turned to an arm draped around her, lightly, but enough that she felt the safety of the weight against her neck. They waved, Cora and Marmite waved back, and Ryan and Jamie walked in silence for a time, back to the wood pile where all this started.
"Why'd you take me to meet them?" She asked, turning him to face her and studying the lines of Ryan's face. "I was expecting something to convince me of the dire need to move faster with whatever we're going to do... but it wasn't, was it?"
His smile told her all she needed to know. "It's hard for me to imagine a life like that," he said. "That sort of contentedness."
