Love Literary Style

by Karin Gillespie

  Aaron returned, holding something wrapped up in a baby blanket. His boxers were soaked through, and his hair was plastered to his forehead.

  “What are you doing out here?” he said. “Get inside.”

  He sounded so authoritative, which was actually quite sexy. Laurie pointed to the blanket. “Is that Dusty?”

  “Into the bathroom,” he said, ignoring her question.

  Laurie followed, saying, “Why are we going into the bathroom?”

  Did he want another lovemaking session in the tub? Why bring the dog?

  “It’s the safest place,” Aaron said.

  He climbed in the tub, and Laurie joined him, although she wasn’t sure why they were riding out a thunderstorm in a bathtub. Whimpering sounds came from under the blanket.

  “This is Dusty.” Aaron pulled away the covering to reveal a trembling black puppy. “More formally known as Windust ‘Wavy Treat’ Mite.”

  “He’s adorable.”

  “He’s contraband. I’m fairly certain pets aren’t allowed. Please don’t tell the people in charge.”

  “I would never—”

  Thunder clapped. Both Aaron and the puppy quivered violently.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  It was obvious Aaron was not, in fact, fine. His face was the color of bone, and he was trembling so much she half expected him to fly apart. One clap of thunder followed another and another. Aaron whispered something under his breath to the puppy. A prayer? Laurie put her arms around him. His skin was damp from perspiration.

  “Everything’s going to be okay. It’s just a summer squall.”

  His eyes were wide and staring as if he was caught in a trance. Over the next few minutes the thunder went from a wall-shaking crash to a distant grumble, but Aaron’s shaking and frantic whispering didn’t subside. It seemed even worse.

  “I think it’s over, Aaron,” she said.

  “No. They come after thunderstorms. They make a low rumbling sound that gets louder and louder until it sounds like a locomotive passing through the house.”

  “What comes after thunderstorms? Except for strolls through puddles, which are always fun.”

  “Tornados,” Aaron said with a fierce whisper.

  “Tornados? I’m not even sure they have those in the mountains. What makes you think—?”

  “It’s coming. Did you hear that?”

  “I didn’t hear—”

  “Now!” Aaron balled up in the tub, his chest protecting the puppy. Laurie heard nothing, just Aaron’s ragged whispering and the slow drip in the sink faucet. The porcelain of the tub was cool against her bare legs. Her baby doll nightie kept riding up her back.

  Five minutes later she said, “Aaron. I really think it’s safe now.”

  “A little longer.”

  Laurie didn’t move. The smell of her honeysuckle soap competed with her peach body wash. Her legs started to cramp, and her stomach let out a low rumble. Aaron startled.

  “That’s just my belly,” she said.

  A few more minutes passed. Laurie said, “I have to stand up. I’m getting a Charley horse.” Also she was feeling a little claustrophobic.

  He didn’t respond. Laurie unfolded herself and stepped out of the tub, flexing her leg. Aaron lifted up his head.

  “Look. Dusty’s not even shaking anymore, and animals have a sixth sense for these things,” Laurie said. “Come on. I’ll make us some tea.”

  Slowly Aaron got out of the tub with Dusty in his arms. They both left the bathroom, and Aaron looked around warily as if he expected a tornado to steal out from under the bed or leap out of a closet.

  “It could still happen,” he said. His longish hair was sticking up in haphazard tufts. He was bare-chested and his skin gleamed milk-white in the lamp light. “You can’t see tornados at night.”

  “Let me check the weather on the computer.”

  She pulled up the weather map on her laptop; the storm system had moved away from the Dillard, Georgia area, the site of the colony. Aaron was looking over her shoulder. She felt the heat of him behind her and heard his uneven breathing.

  “Looks like we’re going to survive.” She got up from the desk chair. “Let me get that tea.”

  She put the water on and joined Aaron at the kitchen table. Dusty was on his lap, and he was staring out the window even though it was too dark to see anything. Without his glasses his eyes looked oversized and vulnerable.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  He nodded. One ear was poking out from his shaggy mane, and it was bright red.

  “Tea should be ready soon. It’s Sleepy Time and very calming.”

  “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

  “What’s a little overreaction among friends?”

  “When I was a child I used to live in Norman, Oklahoma with my mother and stepfather. Norman’s in the apex of tornado alley and…” He glanced away. “I’m sorry. I forgot. We agreed not to talk about our lives outside the colony.”

  “We can break the rule this one time. So you had a lot of tornados in Norman?”

  “Dozens every year. I can’t tell you how many times we had to go into the basement to ride them out, and it was especially terrifying when the tornado siren went off at night. It was often just my mother and me. My stepfather was always away on business trips.”

  “That does sound scary.”

  “You’d think I’d be used to them. But I was young when they happened. It’s embarrassing, but I guess I’m still traumatized.”

  Some adults were almost impossible to imagine as children, but not Aaron with his floppy hair and dreamy gaze; she could easily imagine the scared little boy inside of him, especially with a puppy snuggled on his lap.

  She placed a hand over his. “Everyone has something like that. I’m actually claustrophobic. Don’t stick me in a tight place.”

  “You seemed to be fine in the bathroom.”

  “It was getting to me after a while.”

  “And I guess you’re also afraid of spiders?”

  “Spiders? Shoot, no. I grew up in an old house and spiders lurked in every corner and cranny so—”

  “But you screamed when you saw the daddy longlegs.”

  Heat flowed up Laurie’s neck. “To be honest, that was a trick to meet you.”

  “Really?”

  Laurie nodded. “Now you know all my wily ways.”

  The tea kettle sounded

  “Saved by the whistle,” she said.

  She prepared the tea and placed a cup in front of Aaron.

  “This might be too personal, but I’m curious. What were you whispering to Dusty in the bathroom?”

  Aaron colored, as if embarrassed. “I was reciting from a book called Words of Comfort; it included works by Keats, Emerson and some others. Every time we had to take shelter in the basement my mother would read from it. A couple of selections were short enough to commit to memory.”

  “Which one were you whispering in there?”

  “It was a hymn from George Matheson.”

  “Will you recite it for me?”

  “You don’t want me to do that.”

  “I absolutely do. I adore recitations. They’re so sweet and old-fashioned.”

  Aaron closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling. He said, “There is an Eye that never sleeps, beneath the wind of night. There is an Ear that never shuts, when sinks the beams of light. There is an Arm that never tires, when human strength gives way. There is a Love that never fails, when earthly loves decay.”

  Laurie let the words soak in her brain cells for a moment. Her favorite part was “A love that never fails.”

  “It’s lovely.”

  “I’ve
been reciting it for so long the words have almost lost their meaning. I’m not sure I believe much of it. I’m a pragmatist.”

  And I tend to be the opposite, Laurie thought. “Do you still have the book?”

  “It was lost a long time ago.”

  “Maybe your mother has it?”

  “No.” He swallowed and gazed at his bare feet. “She died.”

  He looked terribly sad, and Laurie’s heart leaped in his direction. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s been a number of years, and I’m not particularly close to my father. So I do miss her. ”

  “I actually lost my parents in a car accident when I just a toddler.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It is, but sadly I don’t remember them. My grandmother raised me, and she passed almost three years ago. She’s the one I miss.” Laurie decided not to mention Jake. Who wanted to have a fling with a widow? It wasn’t very sexy.

  Aaron put a hand over hers. They were both silent. The mood had gotten unexpectedly serious. He seemed to realize that and said, “I didn’t mean to bring up sad topics.”

  “No. It’s fine.” But changing the subject would probably be wise, considering the temporary nature of their relationship. “Why don’t you tell me how you came across that cute fur face in your arms?” Laurie said brightly.

  Aaron told the story, and Laurie watched him as he petted Dusty—he was so gentle and affectionate with the pup—and she felt a twinge of longing that didn’t fit in with their fling.

  Laurie gave her head a little shake as if to chase away her sentimental thoughts and suggested they celebrate the end of the storm by having another go-around under the covers.

  “Lights out so we won’t traumatize Dusty.”

  Aaron eagerly nodded and she shouted, “Last one to bed is a rotten—”

  “Egg?” When people used clichés, Aaron had a habit of finishing their sentences for them.

  “No! A rotten chicken neck smells much worse. That’s why people use them to catch crabs. Last one to bed is a rotten chicken neck.”

  Laurie ran to the bed and pounced on it, giggling, and Aaron joined her. They started kissing and the heavy mood dissipated.

  Seven

  Laurie was teaching Aaron how to do the Carolina Shag, a dance that originated in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. He’d never heard of the shag, but then again, he’d never been worldly about pop culture. Nor had he ever danced with a woman, but he was enjoying it and found he was surprisingly agile, despite his limp.

  She asked him about his limp when they first met, and he gave his standard answer: One of his legs was slightly longer than the other. Not true, but that’s what he told everyone, and yet the night of the thunderstorm he’d been briefly tempted to tell her more. She’d been so kind that night. Emma always chided him for his fear of thunderstorms. “Buck up, girlie,” she’d say.

  The front door of Laurie’s cottage was open, and a breeze infused with the smell of cut grass cooled their skin. Dusk pushed the sun into the horizon, reducing it to a purple-orange smudge. The diminishing light threw Laurie’s face into shadows but a few stray strands of hair around her face were lit as if electric. She was singing “Carolina Girl” in a soft soprano, the chirps of crickets her only accompaniment.

  The floorboards creaked as their feet pattered across them; the homey smell of their fried pork chop supper still clung to the air.

  “I have a surprise for you later,” Laurie said. She was breathless from the exertion of the dance.

  “What is it?”

  “No hints. You’ll have to wait and see.”

  Aaron had a surprise for her as well. He wanted to see if she might consider getting together some point after their colony time was over. The thought of never seeing her again was unimaginable.

  Dusty barked and a voice said, “Where did you come from, sweetie? Dogs aren’t allowed on colony grounds.”

  Aaron stopped dancing. A woman with a choppy blond bob and owlish glasses stood in the doorway. She bent down to give a tail-thumping Dusty a pat on the head. He recognized her as the director of the colony.

  He hoped she didn’t put him on a colony blacklist or turn them away. There were only two nights left.

  “I’m sorry about the dog,” Aaron said. “I just got him, and uh, well…”

  Laurie scooped up Dusty. “He’s an abandoned dog and needs to bond with his new family. Could you leave this dear little face behind?”

  “It is a dear little face, but…Well, I suppose it’ll be okay, so long as you don’t let anyone else know—”

  “You’re such a peach.” Laurie flashed her most dazzling smile. “Would you like to join the party? I made margaritas.”

  Aaron wished Laurie wasn’t so welcoming. Tonight he wanted her all to himself. Their time together was running out.

  “I don’t want to be a crasher,” the director said.

  Too late, Aaron thought.

  “The only reason I’m here is because I ordered a copy of your book, Laura, and I was wondering if you might possibly sign it for me. I’d be very grateful.”

  “Please call me Laurie,” Laurie said. “And you really want my autograph?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. I’d be honored!”

  Such modesty, Aaron thought. As if she’d never signed a book before. That was one of the qualities Aaron adored about Laurie—her ability to still get excited about the smallest of things. She was the least jaded literary writer he’d ever met.

  The director withdrew the book from a bag and handed it to Laurie.

  Laurie cocked her head, looking bewildered. “I’m sorry. What’s this?” “Your book.”

  “No, it’s not. There’s not a speck of pink on the cover.”

  “But—”

  “And this book looks so serious.” Laurie studied the cover. “Plus it’s written by Laura T. Leer.”

  “That’s not you?”

  “No. I’m Laurie Lee. And my middle initial is K for Kay.”

  “And you’re sure this isn’t your novel?”

  She laughed. “I think I’d recognize my own book.”

  “I’m confused…” The director blinked behind smudged glasses. She wasn’t the only confused person in the room. What was going on? Aaron thought.

  “When I got the acceptance letter from the colony I noticed my name was spelled wrong,” Laurie said. “Do you suppose there was a mix-up with the letters?”

  “I don’t know,” the director said. “I have a secretary who sends them out.” The brusque way she said “secretary” made Aaron believe the employee was going to pay dearly for her mistake.

  “Maybe whoever wrote the colony acceptance letter sent it to me instead of this Laura Leer.”

  The director glanced back at the book, which was titled Torpor in the Suburbs. She took a moment to digest the news. “Oh my.”

  “I guess that means the scholarship and the acceptance to the colony was supposed to go to Laura Leer. Not me.”

  “What an inexcusable error,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. I feel bad for Laura T. Leer. She’s the one who missed out.”

  “Still I…can’t believe this happened…” The director remained in place, as if uncertain about her next move. Moths pummeled their soft bodies against the porch light outside. The sound of cicadas rose and fell.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your evening,” she said, backing out of the duplex.

  “You’re sure you don’t want a margarita?” Laurie said. “They’re strawberry.”

  “No, thank you. Good night.”

  The director departed. Laurie dropped into the sofa and flung her long legs over one of the arms.

  “Crazy. Can you believe t
hat?”

  Aaron didn’t reply. He was still trying to process what just occurred.

  “It was fun being a scholarship-winning writer while it lasted.” She jiggled her foot and her flimsy gold sandal dropped to the ground. “But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to think about it. No sense in ruining our evening together. We were having too much fun.” She gave him a seductive look and crooked her finger. “Why are you so far away? Come here.”

  Aaron gingerly approached. The woman he’d grown to know as Laura T. Leer nuzzled up against him, and he felt the soft down of her cheek.

  But now it felt like a stranger’s cheek.

  “You seem tense,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “To be frank I’m…discombobulated.”

  “Why?”

  “I too thought you were Laura T. Leer.”

  Her pale eyebrows knitted together, creating a pink spot in the middle of her forehead. “You did?”

  “Hers was the name on the colony flier.”

  “I never saw that flier; it’s probably in my bag somewhere. I’m forever losing stuff. So who is this Laura T. Leer person anyway? The colony director acted like she was the new Danielle Steel.”

  Aaron had no idea who Danielle Steel was. He listed Laura T. Leer’s accomplishments, and a twinge of loss accompanied each one.

  “A genius?” Laurie laughed so hard her face turned red. “They give out awards for that?”

  “They do.”

  She let out a low whistle. “And you thought I was her? I’m flattered, but honestly if you’re that gullible I’ve got a state park I can sell you.”

  “Well, I—”

  “This is hysterical!”

  “Actually hysterical is not a synonym for humorous,” he said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Laurie smiled. “You know what this is?”