by Marie Hall
Briley held the rod absolutely still, barely breathing, his excitement palpable. Gerard reached into the cooler and took out a piece of ham. He ripped the lunchmeat in half and dropped it into the water with a small plop.
“What are you doin’?” Briley asked.
The ham bobbed on the surface for a moment before sinking slowly in. A silver flash streaked through the water. Briley shrieked. “The minnow. It’s back. Give me a net,” he demanded.
Gerard reached for the green net, and with a swift flick of his wrist, slipped the unsuspecting fish into it. It flipped and flopped, thrashing violently.
Briley cooed and dropped the rod. It thunked on the bottom of the boat. His hands shook as he reached for the net. “It’s so little.” He giggled, and tickled the silvery fish’s belly.
The thing was no bigger than Betty’s pinky finger and she knew they’d have to toss it back.
Gerard nodded. “I think it’s ticklish.”
Briley snorted. “Fish ain’t ticklish, Mr. Gerard.”
Gerard’s eyes widened into a shocked expression. “Non? But see it is dancing under your touch.”
“Naw,” Briley jutted out his jaw, “it’s gaspin’ for air. Here now,” he patted the teeny fish one last time. “I just wanted to say hi. Now it’s time to go back.” He dipped the net back into the water and the fish slid out, taking a moment to right itself before zipping off, disappearing beneath murky waters.
He dusted his hands on his mud stained jeans and grinned, exposing the small gap between his front teeth. “Aunt Betty, I got my costume,” he said, so matter of factly it took Betty a second to follow, then she clapped her hands excitedly.
“Me too! MoComic-con, baby!” They sang in unison and Gerard groaned.
“Next weekend. You’re still taking me, right, Aunt Betty?”
“Yup.” Betty shoulder bumped Gerard. “What was that groan for?”
“Is that not the geek stuff you’d mentioned earlier? With the two men in spandex on your yellow card?”
“Oh yeah,” Briley fist pumped.
She nodded, grinning hard. “And you’re coming.”
A large black bird swooped from one tree branch to another, knocking some fat brown seed pods off the tree. It landed with a loud plop into the water. The ripples reached out to their floating boat.
Gerard groaned louder. “I thought you’d say that.”
“Daddy bought me my Spiderman custom already,” Briley said.
“Amazing or Symbiote?” she asked.
Gerard’s face scrunched into a confused mask.
Briley must have noticed, because he clapped Gerard on the shoulder and very patiently explained that Amazing had bright red and blue colors, and the symbiote suit was covered in black slime from outer space that made Peter Parker kind of crazy.
“Indeed,” Gerard said, then peeked over Briley’s shoulder at Betty with an help-me expression in his eyes.
She covered her mouth to ward off the threatening giggle. But as Briley continued to explain the entire history of Spiderman, and Gerard’s eyes started to glaze, she finally decided to put him out of his misery.
“Monkey butt, time to read. You know you have to get in at least thirty minutes a day.”
“Aww, Aunt Betty, do I have to?” he sighed, and set his lips into a heavy pout, hanging his head.
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to read to you.” She crossed her arms. “But only if you brought the adventures of the amazing boy wizard.”
He nodded, and grabbed his book bag, digging around. “Yup. But I want Mr. Gerard to read to me.”
“Non!” Gerard sliced his hand through the air. “I don’t read.”
“Aww, come on,” Briley shoved the massive tome into Gerard’s hand. He pointed midway in the center of the page with his chubby finger. “Chapter 14. I did a lot…,” he stressed the word with a roll of his eyes, “of reading last night. 10 whole pages!”
Betty clapped, but she was no longer smiling. Gerard was staring at the page with a look akin to horror. Even his breathing seemed rapid and hard. He’d done this the other night when she’d shoved her book into his hands.
Briley sighed. “I’ll start then. The friends...” Briley tasted the word, pronouncing each slowly and precisely, stuttering over particularly hard ones.
“Pha… pha--tom…”
Betty peeked. “Phantom.”
“Phantom.” Briley nodded and took a deep breath, half parts relief and half exasperation. “Your turn, Mr. Gerard.” He thrust the book back onto Gerard’s lap.
Briley had taken five minutes to read the first paragraph. In that time a white ring had spread around Gerard’s mouth, and the instant Briley turned the reigns over, the vein in the side of his neck jumped.
Betty chewed on her lip. He couldn’t read. Why hadn’t she picked up on that before? Maybe because the man was plenty smart. She didn’t want to humiliate him, and opened her mouth to tell Briley he must do it, but Briley spoke up first.
He looked at Gerard with a thoughtful look. “You can’t read, can you, Mr. Gerard?”
The muscle in Gerard’s cheek ticked. Betty held her breath, gazing at him, hoping he’d look at her. But he refused to acknowledge her.
Briley’s smile was huge. “I can’t read real good neither. Tell you what, Mr. Gerard, how ‘bout we try my favoritest book ever.” Gently he took the book from Gerard’s tense hands.
Gerard sat silent as stone, blinking and licking his incisors, still refusing to look at her.
Briley pulled another book out and sat it on Gerard’s lap. He opened to the first page and pointed to the word. “My teacher says you gotta taste the sounds.” He puckered his lips. “A little steam engine,” he began, “had a long train of cars to pull.” Briley paused. “It don’t work if you don’t say it with me, Mr. Gerard.”
Swallowing hard, Gerard finally looked down at Briley and repeated his words-- slowly, methodically. His mouth forming the letters with hands visibly shaking.
“I think I can,” Briley said.
“I think I can,” Gerard repeated.
“I know you can,” Betty whispered, heart trapped in a throat burning with tears.
Chapter 13
Her soft body wrapped around his like a warm hug. Gerard hadn’t wanted her in his bed tonight, hadn’t wanted to remember the humiliation of revealing he couldn’t read. Of knowing she viewed him as less than, just like Belle had.
Her breaths were soft on his bare chest, tickling the hairs, and he rubbed her back. He’d not talked the rest of the day and she’d not forced him. After they’d dropped Briley off he’d gutted the trout they’d caught and prepared their dinner in silence. Once they’d eaten, he’d cleared the dishes, and she’d walked off. Betty hadn’t asked him to watch yet another one of her awful Manga cartoons, and he’d left for his room, knowing this night she’d not join him. An hour later he was almost asleep when she crept into his room, pulled the sheets back, and snuggled up to him. That’d been three hours ago.
Why would she come? He was beneath her, intellectually inferior. His chest ached.
“I’m not stupid, Cherie.”
She rolled over. Wide guileless eyes stared at him. “I never thought you were.”
“You’re awake?” he sighed, sitting up when she disentangled herself. He propped his head against the pillow, and stared out the window at the full moon that lit the room in its silvery glow.
She brushed her fingertips against the corner of his lips, forcing him to look back at her. Betty smiled, full lips curving into a sexy tilt, and he clenched his jaw, not wanting to want her. Not wanting to know her anymore.
“I know you’re not stupid,” she said softly.
He shook her hand off. “I never needed to learn. Where I’m from, where I live, it’s not expected and generally frowned upon. A man is to be out hunting, providing for his family. One who sits and reads is considered vain and lazy.”
She shook her head. “Gerard, I’m not j
udging.”
“She did!” He snapped, shoving his face into hers. In some way wanting to see her eyes fill with fear, wanting her to leave, to run off, to forget he existed. That all the humiliations, one heaped upon another, would cease when she forgot him.
Betty jerked his chin. “I’m not her. I’m Betty Hart. I don’t judge.”
He snarled. “Of course you do. You judged me from the moment you met me.”
“Hey,” she smacked him on the chest, “probably because you were trying to play tonsil hockey with me, makes a girl jumpy.”
He shook his head. “You make no sense.”
She sighed. “Gerard, I didn’t know you. But today, seeing you with Briley, how patient you were, how gentle…”
The pendant on her chest began to glow, bands of deepest indigo swirled like newly cut amethyst in the sunlight, and his pulse jerked hard, blood rushed to his ears. She did not stop talking, did not seem to notice what he’d seen, what had stirred hope like a seedling shooting from within the earth. The pendant still glowed in red and gold, but now there was purple, and the anger abated with the knowledge. Betty was falling in love with him.
Remembering his goal, he channeled his focus, knowing he must forget his anger.
“…you made him feel special. It’s not often he gets to teach a grown up to read. Thank you.” Then she kissed him.
A chaste peck on his cheek, but it was the first time Betty had ever initiated a kiss. Her touch burned fire, and he wanted to rub the spot where her lips had pressed against him.
Black hair tumbled around her pale shoulders like shadow. Like a moth drawn to its glowing demise, Gerard touched the silky strand lying across her breast. She shivered, her mouth parted, and the world around them melted into oblivion.
Gerard wanted to freeze this moment, remember it always. The way her pink belly shirt exposed her navel, how her nipples puckered-- presenting themselves like jewels to his waiting mouth. He licked his lips, wishing he could do more than touch her hair.
“Would you like to learn?” she asked, her sultry voice made him tremble.
He nodded, not knowing why he wanted to, only knowing he needed to. Needed to feel whole, needed to feel she saw him as more than an ignorant brute. “Yes, Cherie , I wish to learn.”
Chapter 14
Betty pointed to the book-- at the picture of the little girl smiling at a running dog. “See spot run,” she repeated slowly.
“Dammit,” Gerard growled and flung the book off the kitchen table. “This is stupid.”
Betty sighed and walked to the spot on the floor he dumped the book, she picked it up and opened it again. She wasn’t angry or even annoyed with him. It was humiliating for him-- she knew-- for her to see him this way. A man like Gerard couldn’t bear her thinking him weak. Not that she saw him that way, but perception was reality, at least in his mind.
“Gerard, it’s how you’ll learn. Trust me. Simple repetition, learning how to properly stress your vowels. It’s how we all learned to read.”
“It’s a kids book. Nursery rhymes. I’m a man,” he pounded his chest. His very bare, naked chest. The man seriously had a thing against clothes.
Then again, when they looked as yummy as he did, clothes were definitely optional. Betty grinned, and patted his hand. He gripped her fingers, giving it a tender squeeze and her heart tilted.
“You put that brilliant mind to good use and hurry up and learn then.” She picked up his mug of tea and took a sip. He narrowed his eyes. They’d fallen into strange habits lately-- Betty taking swigs of his breakfast tea, and he eating her leftovers. She kind of liked it-- no scratch that-- she loved it. Loved seeing him in the morning, cuddling up to him at night, Betty was growing way too used to it, and didn’t want to think about what would happen when their month was up. Thankfully, that wasn’t for another two and half weeks and fourteen hours.
Not like she’d been keeping count or anything.
“I’ve gotta go to work.” She checked her watch. “How do I look?” She twirled, her pastel flower printed dress hugged her calves and made her feel sexy. Lately her wardrobe had taken a huge upswing from jeans and sweaters, to dresses and hip hugging skirts.
He looked her up and down, a slow perusal that made her thighs tingle and her nipples harden.
Gerard smirked. “You are fortunate I cannot drag you to the bedroom, mon petite.”
Stomach taking a serious nosedive, she tripped over her feet and headed to the door. Wishing like hell he could. She wasn’t fortunate at all, because at this point she felt just as cursed as him.
“I’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder, running from him, from the temptation of a forbidden fruit and the very real knowledge that when this was all over, she’d be lucky to have a still beating heart.
His laughter floated behind her.
***
Betty missed him. She kept sneaking glances at the wall clock. Two hours left. She wanted to call, just to hear his voice. But what would she say? ‘I miss you. You’re so hot. Let’s have wild sex.’ Which of course could never happen.
“I swear time goes slower when you keep staring,” Trisha’s sharp voice penetrated through her pity party.
Betty dropped her head into her hands and leaned against the desk. The library was empty. Only one customer in four hours. Why stay open when no one bothered to come anymore?
Or course she shouldn’t think that because this place paid her bills, but seriously.
Trisha’s green gaze bored holes into her skull. Betty pried open an eye, unable to ignore the mile long stare anymore. “Yes?”
Full red lips set into a stern line of disapproval. “Dish. Now.” Trisha planted hands on her hips and tapped her high heeled foot on the carpet. “Who is he, and when did you meet him?”
Hmm… to tell the truth, or not tell the truth, that was the question. Trisha was in a fighting mood, her small hands were balled into tight fists, and a hurt look glinted in the depths of her malachite eyes.
Not truth. Definitely, not truth. Betty stood. “What are you talking about, Trisha?” She pulled a drawer out and rifled through it, pretending to suddenly be in desperate need of a sticky note.
“You are the worst liar in history,” Trisha flattened her hand on the desk, “you know I know, so let’s stop playing, and just tell me. I can’t believe we’ve been best friends for twenty years, and you can’t trust me with this.” Her words were sharp and sliced Betty deep, she winced, knowing she’d been a bad friend.
Betty sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I knew what you’d do.”
“Do what? What can I do when I don’t know anything?” Trisha threw her manicured hands high, shrugging with exaggerated anger.
“I kept him,” Betty whispered, pulling out the yellow sticky note and doodling on the pad, anything to keep from looking up.
“Him?” Trisha questioned, and then sucked in a breath when understanding dawned. “The hottie from the library?”
“Mmm.” Betty bit her lip.
“No you didn’t!” Trisha slapped her arm. “The dude that was all busted up, the French dreamboat that gave me a serious case of--” she stopped talking when Betty glanced sharply at her. Trisha cleared her throat. “That guy?”
Betty rolled her eyes. “Yes, that guy. Now tell me how stupid I am.” She grabbed her throbbing pendant, the thing hadn’t stopped pulsating since the fishing trip yesterday. It was just this side of warm, almost hot against her breast. And she’d noticed in the mirror this morning that it now shone with more threads of purple than red.
“You’re stupid!” Trisha growled. “He could be dangerous.”
“He’s not,” Betty asserted with a swift shake of her head.
“How do you know?” Trisha lowered her voice into a sharp hiss.
The bell above the door pinged as the second customer of the day-- an elderly man-- walked in and headed straight toward the civil war era section.
Betty waited until he was well out of earshot
before answering. “I just do, okay.”
When Trisha got really mad, she’d grab her hair and twist it up into a tight bun. The more tight it got, the madder she was. She wound her hair so tight, her eyebrows pulled back. “Next you’re gonna be telling he’s asked for your hand in marriage.” Narrowing flinty eyes she said, “he hasn’t, has he?”
