She was a thief in their midst, and no one paid any attention.
My lips pulled into a crooked smile, pride filling me as Pim slowly switched from meandering daydreamer to focusing on the task I’d given her. I’d expected her to complete the thievery sooner, but either she hadn’t found a perfect mark, or she’d taken this long to work up the courage—either way, I was lucky enough to have first row tickets to her infraction.
Eyeing up handbags of women brushing past in barely covering material and dripping with jewels, she grew distracted by wallets in men’s back pockets as they followed in the wake of their wives and mistresses.
Giving up on looting a moving individual, she searched stalls selling fresh fruit and others toting cheap beaded jewellery.
Each one, she discounted as a target.
I’d given her an impossible task. I’d commanded she do something she wasn’t comfortable with and accept the guilt and shame that would undoubtedly accompany it.
I pushed forward a little, intending to save her from having to do such a thing, but she suddenly veered direction, stepping off the curb and heading toward the beach where late afternoon sunbathers left their belongings to dip into the turquoise bay.
Sand kicked up behind her flip-flops until she kicked them off and looped her fingers through the rubber thongs. Her security detail followed, looking ridiculously out of place in their matching black suits. I kept back, blending with the foot traffic rather than exposing myself on the sand.
Pim trailed around multi-coloured towels, glancing at paperbacks and sunscreen bottles, eyeing the occasional sunhat protecting wallets and keys below. Her pace slowed as she approached a scrunched-up beach bag and two bleached deck chairs.
The owners of such belongings were no doubt swimming. Too absorbed in their happy holiday to notice the slim thief spying something beneath their chair.
I held my breath as Pim looked left and right then ducked to her haunches and stole a small book from the sand. Instantly, the pilfered item vanished into the folds of her dress. I expected her to stand quickly and carry on, but she replaced the book with a small piece of paper, half burying it so it didn’t blow away.
The moment the note was secure, she moved swiftly away.
Her posture was guilty but resolute. Her shoulders braced but calm.
If I didn’t have feelings for her before, I sure as fuck did now.
She might have just stolen a book, but to me…to me, she’d just stolen my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
______________________________
Pim
THE BOOK WEIGHED so much more than the four-hundred and fifteen pages stated in the index.
It weighed on my conscience.
It weighed on my heart.
Countless times, my feet slowed as the desire to return it to its rightful owner consumed me. Sand stuck to my soles as I looked over my shoulder to see if there was still time.
Oh, no.
An Asian couple climbed from the sea, laughing and hugging, beelining for the deck chairs and my guiltily written note.
I shook a little as they sat down, dripping with seawater, happy and in love. The husband bent to grab his bottle of water, his eyebrows rising as he noticed the crinkle of my half-buried apology.
I couldn’t stand and watch him read.
I couldn’t see him get angry at having something of his taken so callously.
Turning on my heel, I charged ahead, hugging his possession that had now become mine. In my mind, I saw the words I’d scribbled onto a piece of paper from the café where I’d stopped earlier today. Bill had bought me a coffee, saving me from embarrassment of forgetting the age-old custom of bringing money on this excursion.
So many things I used to know.
So many things I’d have to remember.
Things like walking with foot traffic rather than against it. No dillydallying in front of shop windows unless I wanted to be grumbled at. No walking in the middle of the road for a moment’s clemency from the press of strangers’ bodies unless I wanted to be run over.
And no stealing.
Seemed I’d ignored that rule entirely, thanks to Elder.
The weight of the book condemned me in the folds of my dress. My note wouldn’t stop my shame. It didn’t make what I’d done right. But it was better than nothing…
I think.
I visualised my penmanship as if I’d just written it.
Dear Person I Just Stole From,
I’m so sorry for the violation into your life. For the anger you feel and the frustration you can’t shake at having something you bought and paid for taken. I hope you know the monetary value of such a thing is nothing compared to the debt I now owe you.
I hope you can forgive me. I promise I’ll look after what I took.
Yours, Minnie Mouse.
I shook my head, cringing at the signature. My dad would send hail down from heaven for stealing and using his nickname to commit it.
But I couldn’t use Pimlico as that wasn’t my true name. And I couldn’t use Tasmin as I didn’t deserve to claim that yet.
No doubt the couple would think I was being shady and using some cutesy calling card.
They couldn’t be more wrong.
I’d given up a huge piece of myself by signing it that way.
I’d traded my childhood for something of theirs. Something Elder had requested I steal for him.
Turning the book over in my hands, I ran my fingers over the cover.
Why had I stolen a Japanese to English dictionary? Why rob that couple of the ability to translate and converse?
I knew why.
It’s because—
“I’ll take that.” A large, beautifully formed hand shot over my shoulder and captured the book, tugging it free from my grip.
“No—” I spun around, colliding with Elder in his black t-shirted, blue denim dressed glory. The glow of orange and shadow from the sun setting behind him made him seem not quite real.
My heart clanged like a church bell as his dark almond eyes met mine. Somehow, every time he looked at me, he invoked the deepest belly-tugging desire.
He stiffened as if he felt the undercurrent of alchemy whenever we were together, then dropped his gaze to the gift I’d stolen for him.
He froze, noticing the Japanese characters switching to English on the cover with the Webster logo in the corner. His lips worked, his jaw clenched, he shook his head. “Why?”
He didn’t need to add more.
Why this?
Why a dictionary?
Why the language of his mixed heritage?
I flushed with yet more shame for thinking I had a right to dabble and use what little I knew about him for my own purpose. Stealing had been terrible. Having him refuse my gift would be horrifying.
“Because you gave me back the gift of language. You reminded me how to speak. You bridged the gap somehow, and now, I’m no longer afraid of words.”