A Knight Of The Word

“Hey, Nest,” Robert Keppler said.

He stood with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and one tennis shoe bumping nervously against the worn threshold. “You going to invite me in or what?” He gave her one of his patented cocky grins and tossed back the shoulder-length blond hair from his angular face.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“You mean like, ‘here at eight o’clock in the morning,’ or like, ‘here in Hopewell as opposed to Palo Alto’? You’re wondering if I was tossed out of school, right?”

“Were you?”

“Naw. Stanford needs me to keep its grade point average high enough to attract similarly brilliant students. I was just in the neighbourhood and decided to stop by, share a few laughs, maybe see if you’re in the market for a boyfriend.” He was talking fast and loose to keep up his confidence. He glanced past her toward the kitchen. “Do I smell coffee? You’re alone, aren’t you? I mean, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Jeez, Robert, you are such a load.” She sighed and stepped back. “Come on in.”

She beckoned him to follow and led him down the hall. The screen door banged shut behind them and she winced, remembering how Gran had hated it when she did that.

“So what are you really doing here?” she pressed him, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen table as she reached for the coffee-pot and a cup. The coffee steamed in the morning air as she poured it.

He shrugged, giving her a furtive look. “I saw your car, knew you were home, thought I should say hello. I know it’s early, but I was afraid I might miss you.”

She handed him the coffee and motioned for him to sit down, but he remained standing. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you,” she said pointedly.

“You know me, I don’t like to rush things.” He looked away quickly, unable to meet her steady gaze. He sipped gingerly from his cup, then made a face. “What is this stuff?”

Nest lost her patience. “Look, did you come here to insult me, or do you need something, or are you just lonely again?”

He gave her his hurt puppy look. “None of the above.” He glanced down at the real estate papers, which were sitting on the counter next to him, then looked up at her again. “I just wanted to see you. I didn’t see you all summer, what with you off running over hill and dale and cinder track.”

“Robert, don’t start.”

“Okay, I know, I know. But it’s true. I haven’t seen you since your grandfather’s funeral.”

“And whose fault is that, do you think?”

He pushed his glasses further up on his nose and screwed up his mouth. “Okay, all right. It’s my fault. I haven’t seen you because I knew how badly I messed up.”

“You were a jerk, Robert.”

He flinched as if struck. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“You didn’t?” A slow flush worked its way up her neck and into her cheeks. “My grandfather’s funeral service was barely finished and there You were, making a serious effort to grope me. I don’t know what that was all about, but I didn’t appreciate it one bit.”

He shook his head rapidly. “I wasn’t trying to grope you exactly.”

“Yes, you were. Exactly. You might have done yourself some good, you know, if you’d stuck around to apologise afterward instead of running off.”

His laugh was forced. “I was running for my life. You just about took my head off.”

She stared at him, waiting. She knew how he felt about her, how he had always felt about her. She knew this was difficult for him and she wasn’t making it any easier. But his misguided attempt at an intimate relationship was strictly one-sided and she had to put a stop to it now or whatever was left of their friendship would go right out the window.

He took a deep breath. “I made a big mistake, and I’m sorry. I guess I just thought you needed... that you wanted someone to... Well, I just wasn’t thinking, that’s all.” He pushed back his long hair nervously. “I’m not so good at stuff like that, and you, well, you know how I feel.. “ He stopped and looked down at his feet. “It was stupid. I’m really sorry.”

She didn’t say anything, letting him dangle in the wind a little longer, letting him wonder, He looked up at her after a minute, meeting her gaze squarely for the first time. “I don’t know what else to say, Nest. I’m sorry. Are we still friends?”

Even though he had grown taller and gotten broader through the shoulders, she still saw him as being fourteen. There was a little-boy look and sound to him that she thought he might never entirely escape.

“Are we?” he pressed.

She gave him a considering look. “Yes, Robert, we are. We always will be, I hope. But we’re just friends, okay? Don’t try to make it into anything else. If you do, you’re just going to make me mad all over again.”

He looked doubtful, but nodded anyway. “Okay.” He glanced down again at the real estate papers. Are you going to sell the house?”