“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
* * *
*Beau*
“I would just like to point out, every one of that woman’s sentences contained an even number of words.” Shelly’s hands opened and closed on the steering wheel, like she was trying to get a better grip.
This was the first complete thought she’d spoken since threatening Christine St. Claire’s eyelids with a TIG welder, and she made it sound like the woman could not have committed a more outrageous offense than speaking exclusively in even-worded sentences.
I cleared my throat and nodded. “Noted.”
Never mind that Christine’s parting words advocated that I beat Shelly.
No. Never mind that. Because if I thought about that, then the rage would swell within me all over again.
As soon as they’d left, Shelly locked up the shop in a frenzy, pulled me to her car, and we took off. I was also in a frenzy of a kind, wanting to tear something apart, ruin and wreck and destroy. I couldn’t fathom that I’d talked myself into giving that woman the benefit of the doubt. What the hell was wrong with me?
Duane’s words from weeks ago echoed between my ears: Don’t set yourself on fire trying to keep others warm.
It was a hard lesson to learn, but I knew with a stunning conviction that I’d just learned it.
Shelly drove past the turnoff for her road, taking us on a long, roundabout way to her place. I realized belatedly that she was making sure we weren’t being followed.
The sound of her barking dogs welcomed us as soon as we exited her car, and they burst forth as usual as soon as she opened the door.
The one named Laika began licking my hand in earnest and most of my wrath melted away. I crouched low, dodging her doggy kisses, and rubbed the back of her ears. She looked at me like I was her human, and that’s honestly all it took.
“I am in love with this dog.”
Shelly was petting and patting Ivan’s head, watching me with Laika. “Can you grab the leashes?”
“Yeah, sure thing.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Shelly disappeared for a bit and my mind zeroed in on the mundane process of leashing the dogs, focusing solely on that singular activity. And after I was finished, my mind blanked. I stared at the trunk of a white oak tree and thought about absolutely nothing.
When she returned, she held out her hand for their leads. Instead, I took her fingers in mine and we set off.
The sun had just set. I took a moment to admire the reds, oranges, yellows, and purples of the surrounding forest in the fading light. The witching hour, where the Earth was lit with the afterglow of sunset. The song of the summer cicadas was gone, their symphony replaced with the sounds of crickets at dusk, celebrating the coming night.
When had autumn arrived so completely? And where had I been? Asleep? When had I become inoculated to the beauty of my surroundings? When had I started taking my blessings for granted?
“Last week, Bethany Winston was my mother.”
Shelly’s hand squeezed mine. “She is still your mother.”
I nodded at that, deciding it was exactly the right thing for her to say, and we kept on walking.
* * *
I woke up in darkness and didn’t know where I was.
It took me several seconds to realize I was still at Shelly’s and I’d fallen asleep in her bed. Reaching forward and blinking against the night, I saw her side was empty.
We’d taken the dogs on a long walk, neither of us feeling inclined to fill the silence, which suited my mood just fine. Back at her cabin—I’d officially upgraded the place from shack to cabin—I set the table and fed the dogs while she put the finishing touches on dinner.
While we ate, she talked about art school. I told her about the first car I’d fixed up—a 1978 Lincoln Continental—and then we did the dishes together. She put on an old record of Johnny Mercer’s greatest hits for background music.
When the first notes of “Skylark” came on, I dried my hands, and pulled her away from the cabinet and into my arms.
She tilted her head back, giving me a look of consternation. “I do not know how to dance.”
“No matter, I know how.” I kissed her nose and took the lead. “Pretend you’re a noodle.”
Shelly arched an eyebrow. “A noodle?”
“Spaghetti, the already cooked kind.” I slid my cheek against hers and we glided around the small space. I was careful to take short, swaying steps until she relaxed. Then I spun her out, reeled her back, and dipped her.
And that made her laugh.
Something in my bones reset at the sound of her laugh, something fundamental. Maybe the notion that joy was still possible, and that I could provide it despite who my parents were. Despite that I’d come from bad.
After “Skylark,” we slow danced to “Fools Rush In,” and “Come Rain or Come Shine.” But when “Jeepers Creepers” came on, Shelly made a face. Peering up at me, she wrinkled her nose in distaste, and that made me laugh.
“I guess I should get going.” I used my index and middle finger to gently push several strands of her long hair away from her forehead.
“Why?”
I searched her features. She was honestly curious. I’d just opened my mouth to say something about being tired, and it getting late, and needing to work tomorrow, when she cut me off with a quick kiss.
“Stay.” She kissed me again, just as quickly. “I won’t make any attempts to seduce you. Tonight.”
My mouth dropped open and I blinked once. “Excuse me?”
“You are excused, but not to leave.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re planning on seducing me?”
“Not tonight,” she confirmed, and then added, “maybe next week.”
Laughing incredulously, I shook my head at her. “This subject comes up a lot with you.”
“Because I spend a lot of time thinking about it. And so do you. Also, I’m clean and have an IUD to prevent pregnancy. Are you clean?”
Pregnancy?
“Clean?”
“Are you?”
“Clean? Yes. Yes, I am. I’m clean.” I continued shaking my head, now completely bewildered. “You are unbelievable.”
“No, I’m not, I’m honest. That makes me very believable.”
“I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Read me a book, but brush your teeth first. I have extra toothbrushes under the sink. When’s the last time you had a dental checkup?” Not waiting for my answer, Shelly turned and scurried out of the living room.
I got the impression she expected me to follow her. I also got the impression she was nervous, which was what had propelled her scurrying.
That’s basically how I ended up in her bed, teeth brushed, and asleep. I’d been reading Great Expectations aloud while she snuggled against me. When she took over, I’d fallen asleep to the soft cadence of her voice.