The Knight of Pages

by Alexie Aaron

  “You’re putting my feelings first?” Wendell asked, confused.

  “Well?” Clara asked, instead of lying.

  “He won’t like it,” Wendell said.

  “I’m not asking him. I’m asking you,” Clara insisted.

  “No. I think we can be friends. Maybe you’ll have to break it to him so he doesn’t pop me in the nose.”

  “Come on, WBOMB, you can take him. Besides, a little lump on that nose will give you character.”

  Wendell roared with laughter. “I like my nose the way it is.”

  “Hey, have you ever been to the indoor go-kart place in Mokena?” Clara asked.

  “Go-karts? No, I haven’t.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go. Maybe we can plan an excursion after the kids go back to school.”

  Wendell smiled. “Sure, Clara, I would like that.”

  ~

  Wendell insisted on driving Clara home. He dropped her at the curb and watched as she went in. Clara figured that she may as well pick up some clean clothes and check her mail. She entered her apartment and was surprised to find the lights on.

  “Did I leave the lights on?” she asked, walking around the corner into Nash.

  “No. You haven’t called or texted either,” Nash growled, taking hold of her arms.

  “How did you get in here?” Clara asked.

  “Spider-Man got in and then opened the door. He left when Wendell dropped you off.”

  “How did you know I was coming here?”

  “I didn’t. Joon-ki has been tracking your phone. And when you started in this direction, so did Kalaraja and me.”

  “Uh huh,” Clara said. “Excuse me, before I give you a full report, I have to pee.”

  Nash watched her walk into the bathroom and shut the door. He was nervous. He had never been so painfully aware that whatever words he used next would determine whether Clara would still be his.

  He heard the water running. The door opened, and Clara looked at him a moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t text or call, but there simply wasn’t a way without arousing suspicion.”

  “The book club ended at nine. Where were you?”

  “We walked to… You are not going to repeat this to Catherine Baumbach.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not telling you then. Wendell’s not up to anything. I know a way to account for most of his missing time. He didn’t lure me away with evil intentions. He did, however, make it clear that he only wanted friendship from me.”

  “Do you think he suspected you were playing him?”

  “No, he only thinks that I fancied him. And when he told me he wasn’t interested in being anything other than friends with me, he let me down gently.”

  “I was out of my mind when you didn’t come back directly after book club,” Nash said, his voice tight.

  “I thought my job was to find out where Wendell had been spending his time.”

  “Foolish me assumed you would just ask him,” Nash snapped.

  Clara lifted an eyebrow. “I got the idea that, just shy of insemination, I was to work Wendell until I got the information you and your merry band of bookends wanted,” she spat. “Call Kalaraja. Tell him he’s back on Nash-sitting duty. Get out.”

  Nash just stood there.

  “It doesn’t matter how much this is breaking my heart,” Clara began, “but I think that you really don’t value people. I admit to going along with all of this because I really thought I was saving you. I sat there and witnessed a remarkable man do what he’s best at. You knights should take notice. Wendell does more for reading than rescuing an old book or guarding important texts. He listens to the readers without mocking them. He is kind and, yes, a mommy’s boy, but he’s worth a hundred of you, Nash.”

  “If I’m so horrible, why did you choose to love me?”

  “I’ll admit to being honored that someone who doesn’t like anyone, liked me.”

  “Do you still love me?” Nash asked.

  “Yes. I fear that will never stop,” Clara said. “I love you for your faults and attributes. I don’t understand you, but I don’t understand half the stuff I do either.”

  “I should have never asked you to do this, nor pressured you when you told me so. It didn’t make any sense. You could have been hurt, taken by Wendell or the book. Kalaraja was certain you were up to the mission, and you were. Joon-ki watched you digitally, and they convinced me you weren’t in any danger. But there still was a danger I didn’t anticipate.”

  “It wasn’t the danger I objected to. I didn’t want to lead Wendell on. So the universe cut me a break, and he wasn’t into me. Wendell and I are going to be friends, Nash. If you want us to continue, you’re going to have to accept that Wendell is going to be a friend of mine. If this is a non-starter, then tell me now.”

  “I don’t understand you. Clara, you would put away the dreams of you having babies in order to be with me but losing Wendell Baumbach’s friendship is a no-go?” Nash scratched his head.

  “I understand your fears. But I don’t understand your treatment of Wendell.”

  “Maybe I’m jealous.”

  “Of a fifty-year-old man who lives with his mother?”

  “He had a mother.”

  Clara melted. Her icy resolve turned into tears of compassion. She walked over and held the man who hadn’t moved a step since she started yelling at him.

  He stroked her back and lifted her face to his. “I am sorry from the bottom of Ron Santiago’s heart for putting you in such a position. I paid for my stupidity all evening. The books hate me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I tossed a book in anger.”

  “Gee, that’s not at all like you.”

  “It landed in the Penguin bin.”

  “Lucky you,” Clara said. “Come sit down and tell me about it.”

  “I need to go to my place. I didn’t bring my pills.”

  “Let me get some clean clothes, and I’ll go with you,” Clara offered.

  “Please. Clara, I don’t mean to be such a helpless male, but I feel if I leave here without you tonight, I may as well not have the pills because I will fall into a quick decline.”

  “Did you rehearse that?” Clara asked.

  “Sounded like it. I think Ron must have been a very clever boy.”

  Clara disengaged herself and moved quickly into the bedroom.

  While she was gone, Nash looked at Clara’s bookshelf and marveled at how well-rounded her collection was. Some of the older hardcovers had inscriptions on the flyleaf. Clara’s father was the giver of the books. He was so engaged with his reading, he didn’t see Clara rush through with a stack of clothes or hear her put them in a canvas grocery sack. He came around when she opened her refrigerator.

  “Kalaraja promised me he would fill my bare cupboards and refrigerator with food,” Nash said, walking in. He looked around and sighed. “It’s beautiful in here.”

  “Kitchens are my thing. My earliest memory is sitting and watching my mother fix supper. I don’t know how old I was, but the memory was filled with color as she cut juicy tomatoes into a salad. Green onions and carrots were in a jar in the refrigerator staying crisp. I remember being fascinated by the light. Later, it would be the tie-dyed curtains that floated in the breeze of a spring evening. She loved color.”

  “Was it she who you got your beautiful hair from?” Nash asked.

  “No. My father. He was the donor.”

  “He wrote you beautiful notes in the books he gave you.”

  “Craig pointed out a few years ago that many of the words are misspelled. It doesn’t matter, and I never noticed until Craig said something.”

  “You’re right. I don’t like many people, but I feel I would have liked your parents.”

  Clara smiled.

  “If I promise not to tell Catherine Baumbach where Wendell goes, will you tell me?”

  “Dave and Busters. H
e’s WBOMB and is the top player of most of the arcade machines. He walks into the place and everyone knows him. He gave me this,” Clara said as she displayed the blue-and-orange wristband. “It activates the games. I think if he needs an alibi, all he would have to do is to ask Dave and Busters to access their accounts of his wristband.”

  “You’re a very smart woman,” Nash said. “Although, I don’t like my girlfriend wearing my nemesis’s jewelry.”

  “Give me something to replace it and I’ll take it off,” Clara dared.

  “Clara Emer Tyler, if you don’t take that off, I’ll give you something you may not like.”

  “How did you know? Oh, the books. I haven’t been called Emer since my father caught me climbing the old oak at the back of the property. I had come home from seeing Land Before Time at the library, and I was looking for the tree-star.”

  Nash held his hand out. Clara took off the wristband, and he placed it on the counter. “Wait,” he said and took out his wallet. He dug his fingers into the space behind the credit cards and pulled out a white hospital bracelet. He slid it over her hand. “I kept it as a reminder of who I was before they gave me a new heart.”

  Clara looked at it, and tears fell from her eyes. “I can’t take this.”

  “Keep it until I find something that tells you who I am now. Now that you have brought love into my life, I’m just learning who Nash Gabriel Greene is.”

  “He’s a romantic bookseller.”

  “Am I?”

  “Knight of Pages from the Order of Scrolls.”

  “Yes.”

  “The man who I want to spend the rest of my life with if I can.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “You.”

  Nash thought about her words and he nodded. “Please, Clara, may I have a bit of time?”

  Clara hugged him and placed her ear to his heart.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Listening to your heart. It doesn’t lie.”

  “What is it telling you?”

  “That you love me. Yes, Nash, you may have a bit of time.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Elma stumbled into her home and then fell over the overnight bag she had left in the hall. As she lay on the floor of her hall, she pondered how she had gotten in such a state. She remembered following Wendell and his hussy into Dave and Buster’s. She sat in a dark booth sampling the colorful drinks the restaurant had to offer. Elma watched as the hussy took the poor man for a ride. They played games, collected tickets, and ate together.

  “The bitch has him under her spell. No man in his right mind would enter a place such as that unless it was with the promise of sex later.” Wendell was humiliating himself with this younger woman. She got up to approach Wendell to suggest he let her take him home. But her next drink arrived, and she forgot all about Wendell and the floozy with the Marilyn Monroe body. She swore she saw Wendell put his hand down the back of the woman’s pants, but it turned out to be another couple.

  When Wendell and the chit left, she followed them out of the building. Elma steadied herself a few times with the walls of the buildings lining the dark streets. She stumbled over an uneven paver and fell on the sidewalk. Strong hands picked her up.

  “Lady, you’ve had too much to drink,” a Latina told her. “Let me call you a cab.”

  “Molina, we’ll lose them,” another woman said.

  “Where are you going?” the Latina asked Elma.

  “To the community center. I must stop Wendell from making a big mistake!”

  “Since we just happen to be going your way, why don’t you lean on me,” the Latina offered. “Then we’ll put you in a cab, but you have to be quiet.”

  Elma put her fingers to her lips and shushed.

  The pair of women hustled Elma along. She had recovered more balance by the time they stopped in the shadows across from the community center lot.

  “They’re getting in the car. Dahlberg, bring the car up,” the black woman said into her phone.

  Elma found herself shoved into the back of a sedan and closed her eyes.

  “If she gets sick, my wife is going to have my nuts.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll watch her,” the black woman promised.

  “She’s a drinker. You can tell by her vodka thinness,” the man said, looking at Elma in the rearview mirror.

  “Hold back, Baumbach’s pulling over,” the Latina ordered.

  “She’s going in alone.”

  “Do you think he saw us?” the man asked.

  “No. He’s headed home. Let’s follow him and then take this broad home.”

  Elma felt a tug on her arm, and her purse was liberated and her address read off to the driver. “But my car?”

  “It’ll be there in the morning,” the Latina assured her. “No DUI paperwork for me tonight.”

  Elma fell asleep. She woke when the door of the sedan was opened. She smiled at the blurry trio. “One in every color,” she said and waved them off as she pulled her house key out of her pocket.

  “I don’t feel right leaving her,” the black woman said.

  Elma stumbled into her home, and someone closed the door after her. She sank to her knees and then laid on the floor. Something moved under the carpet. Elma pushed herself up, fearing a mouse or, worse, a rat! The sudden movement churned her stomach, and she lurched to the bathroom. Elma spent the rest of the night hugging the toilet, and when she was able to reach her bed, the movement under the carpet was forgotten.

  ~

  Wendell entered through the back door. He smiled seeing that his mother had left him a plate of cookies. Next to it was a note:

  Hope you had a nice evening. Thank you for letting me know you were going to be late.

  Wendell poured himself a glass of milk, took the plate into his home office, sat down, and picked up a book. He set it down and thought about the evening and how much fun it was sharing his secret with Clara. She was a sweet girl, and even though he had to let her down, she seemed to be alright with them just being friends. He wasn’t sure what he was going to tell his mother, but he had all night to think up a story. “No, keep it simple. I took Clara out for a steak salad and a beer. She’s a nice girl but maybe not the one.”

  Catherine heard Wendell. She wasn’t sure what he was saying. It was just nice to know that he was home safe. Sleep had evaded her. She couldn’t help feeling that they were all walking on unstable ground. It could be that the stroke had taken more from Catherine than her mobility. She used to be able to anticipate the turns in the road before they presented themselves.

  There was a light tap on the door.

  “Mother, are you awake?” Wendell asked softly.

  “Yes. The sandman forgot to stop. Come in, dear.”

  Wendell walked in, pulled up a chair, and put a pillow behind Catherine’s head before he settled down himself.

  She looked at him. His cheeks had a nice blush to them. “How was your night?”

  “Book club went well.”

  “Did Clara turn up?”

  “Yes, she did. She didn’t participate but seemed to enjoy the discussion. She complimented me on my ability to manage the group. After, I asked her to dinner, and we had steak salads and beer. She is a very nice person, but even though I could tell she was interested in me, I had to tell her I wasn’t interested in her as a girlfriend.”

  “Oh, Wendell,” Catherine said, disappointed.

  “Clara took it well, and I think I made a friend.”

  “Well, that’s good. What didn’t you like about Clara?”

  “Mother, she’s young. We don’t share the same memories. I hate to admit it, but I think she may be good for Nash. He needs someone who can’t sit still, who needs a mentor. I don’t need to be worshiped, Mother.”

  “You said that she and you could still be friends.”

  “Yes. She suggested an outing and asked if she and Nash did become an
item, if I would object to being her friend. I told her no.”

  “Well, how the tables have turned,” Catherine said. “I like this woman. If I can’t have her as a daughter-in-law, I will be pleased to welcome her over as a friend of the family.”

  Wendell smiled.

  ~

  Clara put together a late-night stir-fry and insisted that Nash clean his plate. She was pleasantly surprised by the state of Nash’s refrigerator and cupboards. There was enough food in the apartment to feed a family of ten for a month. After, the two curled up on the sofa. Nash insisted that Clara read to him. When she had finished a chapter, he put his hand on her arm.

  “Clara, do you remember when you came out wearing my vest and undershirt?”

  “Yes.”

  “I had a vision.”

  “You had another vision?” Clara asked, her heart quickening.

  “I’ve had a total of four visions. But only two before the one we shared of my mother. Each one knocked my socks off. I saw the bookshop when I still lived in New York, and Ron Santiago’s mother comforting her brain-dead child before the transplant.”

  Clara waited.

  “You were there, but another Clara formed over you. This one was wearing my vest, but it was stretched over a pregnant belly. You were holding the hand of a little redheaded boy with brown eyes and a stubborn chin.”

  “How did you feel after the vision?”

  “I was worried that I wasn’t in it standing next to you. Kalaraja saw the same thing I did.”

  “But he wasn’t worried you weren’t standing next to me?”

  “No, he said your beauty stilled his tongue.”

  “I’m sure that’s paraphrased,” Clara scoffed. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I tossed the book because I knew they weren’t my children.”

  Clara sat up. “I thought you said adopting may be an option.”

  “You were pregnant, and I swear…”

  “You thought the children were Wendell’s?” Clara asked, her voice trying not to betray amusement.