Sunshine in the Dragon's Heart

by Jaime Samms

  Chapter 8

  “SUNSHINE, COME on.” Daisy was a champion wheedler. “One afternoon. It won’t kill you to come visit. Everyone misses you. One lunch with a few staff won’t kill you.”

  “Will there be people?”

  There was silence over the phone, and Sunny tucked it between his shoulder and ear, awkwardly because it was really too thin for the manoeuvre. But he needed both hands to pick up the wheelbarrow handles. For the past week, he’d neglected his yard in favour of nursing Emile while he regained his strength, as well as unpacking the rest of his personal belongings Daisy’s friend hadn’t moved for him. His new house truly felt like home now, with all his photos and collected souvenirs on display.

  Since his house guest was showing definite signs of improvement, even if he hadn’t shown much interest in leaving his nest of cushions on Sunny’s couch, Sunny had thought it prudent to begin work on the outside of the property.

  Over the week, Emile had read his way through a good third of Sunny’s book collection and oddly hadn’t replaced the books on the shelf. They were tucked carefully into the crevices of the couch, between the cushions and lined up along the arms. Like he was hoarding them as he read. Sunny couldn’t help but wonder if there was any correlation between how much Emile enjoyed each story and how deeply he tucked it away.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Daisy’s deadpan was almost as good as her wheedle, and it brought Sunny back to his current dilemma.

  “Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

  “How could it be lunch with friends if there were no friends there to lunch with?”

  “You know how I feel about people.”

  Daisy sighed loudly, and Sunny was going to reply when a tap on his shoulder gave him a start that sent the phone to the ground. He turned to find Emile next to him. The hairs on his arms rose, and he couldn’t help but smile, even as he had to retrieve the phone.

  “Let me,” Emile offered. Sunny relinquished the barrow, juggled the phone, then pointed to the corner of the yard behind the tool shed. He followed as Emile slowly pushed the wheelbarrow across the yard. He set it down more than once as he crossed the grass but refused Sunny’s offer to take it back. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead by the time he had upended the load of grass roots and weeds onto the pile in the corner.

  “People aren’t the problem, Sunny,” Daisy was saying when Sunny tuned back in to the conversation. “People are mostly fine. It’s only when they get around you that things get dicey.”

  “So see? You don’t want me there. It’ll make everyone uncomfortable.”

  “You don’t even have to say anything. Just get here, nod, smile once in a while. Let people see you’re okay.”

  “Oh, and you almost had me at the ‘don’t have to say anything’ part too,” Sunny teased.

  “You know what?” Her bitchy was beginning to show, and Sunny sighed inwardly. He could even alienate her these days. “Maybe if you smiled once in a while, you wouldn’t have so many issues with people.”

  “Sis, I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Sit and eat with people?”

  Pretend I’m okay. But he couldn’t say that to her. Any time he talked about his discomfort around their employees, his dislike of the sad smiles they gave him, the virtual pats on the head and the sympathy, she got uncertain. She wondered why she didn’t feel so devastated by their loss, or so debilitated.

  “Never mind.” Selfishly, he couldn’t listen to her be anything other than the powerhouse sister and boss who ran their company. “Let me think about it, okay?”

  “You have to come back to reality sooner or later, Sunny.”

  Sunny watched Emile settle on the pile of cedar logs by one of the sheds and turn his face up to the sun. He looked like he was soaking up energy through his skin. He seemed so content just resting in the bright midmorning rays. Like he belonged to this place as much as Sunny wanted to belong here.

  If this was the alternative to the reality where he walked the halls and labs of their company, always expecting to see his mother elbow-deep in plants, or his father hunched over a computer, this was what he wanted. Maybe it was a fantasy. Maybe he didn’t care that it wasn’t “real life” according to most of society. It was his life. This was what he wanted.

  “Look, sis, I gotta go.”

  “Sunny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you didn’t. I know you don’t.”

  “It’s been a year. I know it’s hard, but if you got back to work, if you—”

  “Sis. I love you. That worked for you, and I’m happy it did. You needed the distraction and the company needed your stability, but I can’t be there.”

  She was silent for a few heartbeats; then, “I miss you.”

  He had to smile. Sometimes she still sounded like his little sister. And sometimes, like yesterday, he had a pang of missing her too. It had surprised him with the sharp pain of it, but also with the comforting normalness of it. Like he’d begun to at least feel something again other than the vast emptiness where his parents had once lived. “I miss you too.”

  “Do you?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Will you come have lunch with me? Just me?”

  “Let me—” Sunny broke off as Emile stood, the movement abrupt, his attention focused on the trees past the refuse pile, his expression grim and cheeks pale. “Um. I have to go.”

  “Your carrots are calling?”

  “Rutabaga, actually.”

  “Sunny.”

  “I’ll think about it. Promise.”

  “Wednesday after next? I have the afternoon free.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Wear pants!”

  “Blasphemer!”

  She laughed. “You’ll come?”

  “Love you, Daisychain.”

  “Jerk. Love you and your little dog too.”

  He chuckled as he listened to her say something away from the phone, probably to Bobby, her assistant. Then the line was dead. God.

  He did love her. He missed her. He did not want to drive to the city—dressed in slacks, no less—and enter the building where he still expected to see his parents chatting and joking with their employees. How Daisy could go there, day after day, and not die from missing them, he had no idea.

  “Are you all right?” Emile’s palm against the bare skin of Sunny’s shoulder made him jump. Heat passed between them, and Sunny felt an immediate vibration, like Emile’s touch was enough to excite every particle of his being into motion.

  Part of him wanted to brush the touch away. It was too alien, what it did to him. More of him wanted to curl into it, see how it would feel to have his whole body light up like that. Before he could do anything, though, Emile’s hand fell away. “Sunny?”

  “Oh.” He tucked the phone into a pocket of his cargo shorts and snapped the flap closed. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “You looked so sad there for just a moment.” Emile shivered, his body undulating in a delicate wave, as though Sunny’s distress had caused him physical discomfort.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “What were you talking to yourself about?”

  Sunny blinked at him. “Sorry?”

  “You were talking. Like you were arguing with yourself.”

  “I was talking to my sister.” He pulled out his phone again and held it up. “On my phone?”

  Emile stared at the device, nodding, but his expression was one of confusion.

  “You’ve never seen a cell phone before?”

  “Like a telephone?” Emile touched the screen, and since it was still unlocked, it lit up. He jerked his hand back. “I thought they were more….” He waved his hands, making a vague shape in the air. “Bigger.”

  Sunny wanted to laugh, but the look on Emile’s face, so open and sincerely boggled, was too real to risk it sounding like Sunny was mocking him. “Where did you come from?” he wondered aloud.

  Emile’s expression abr
uptly closed, and he took a step back.

  “No, it’s okay.” Sunny smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone who didn’t at least know what a cell phone was, even if they’d never seen one. It’s… odd.” He touched Emile’s arm, not wanting to scare him off, not wanting him upset. “But it’s okay.”

  It was sort of adorable, actually, and another nail in the coffin of Sunny’s tragically short-lived hermit life.

  “I suppose I have been sheltered somewhat. Things are different where I come from.”

  Maybe he was Amish or something. Although northern Ontario was a long way away from Amish country. “Do you miss it?” he asked impulsively. “Home, I mean. You said you left in a hurry.”

  Emile drew in a deep breath and let it out, long and slow. “I did. And yes, I do. But I can’t go back, and I wish I could tell you more, but….” He gazed off into the trees over the bridge. “Most of it you would never believe,” he whispered. “And the rest you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Emile.” Sunny touched his arm, and this time, Emile didn’t flinch, and the shock of contact was mild. Emile pulled his gaze from the forest to look at him. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. And I won’t ask questions if it makes you uncomfortable. But you can understand I worry. You were alone and hungry and naked. That’s not okay. Whoever you’re running away from—”

  “Is a long way away. I’m here now.” He smiled something of a sharp, toothy grin that had the hairs on the back of Sunny’s neck standing on end. “I had a difficult patch, which you rescued me from. But I am not helpless. I promise you.”

  “Of course not.”

  Emile’s expression softened. “I did need your help. But I’m much stronger now. So thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He glanced at the wheelbarrow. “I have another six or seven of those to load up and move before I can start building the raised beds.”

  “Do you have another shovel?”

  “Oh no. You are stronger, but I saw how much that took out of you. I’m glad you’re out in the sunshine at last, but you need to take it easy still.” He glanced to the trees that had drawn Emile’s attention earlier. The depth of shadow under the branches limited his view, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing there to see.

  “Please. It is the least I can do for you. I feel like I’ve taken over your life, not to mention your sofa.”

  “If I didn’t want you here, you would know, believe me.” Sunny hadn’t quite figured out why he wanted Emile around. Or why he hadn’t told Daisy about his presence. Because she’d freak out and tell me to do a background check before kicking him out on his ass.

  If Sunny didn’t particularly like people lately, Daisy was the one who tended to be more practical about who she let into their life. Hippies their parents might have been, but they had still managed to make a very healthy nest egg out of their research and the technology they had created for greener food production. Neither of their kids had to work if they didn’t want to. Daisy thrived on carrying on their legacy, though, and Sunny… well. He was still figuring out where he’d landed after their deaths.

  Emile touched his arm again, sending another, stronger shower of sparkling energy cascading through him. “Such kindness to a stranger is worthy of some repayment.”

  Sunny took a step closer to Emile, gazing up at him, breath caught as the heat grew in the pit of his stomach. Emile’s fingers had closed around his arm just above his elbow, and the touch was electric, almost hot. “You don’t feel like a stranger,” he breathed. And that was the heart of the matter, wasn’t it? Emile felt like part of this world Sunny had purchased for himself. He’d thought to get away from people, to be by himself, but already, he couldn’t think of this bit of land and life without Emile’s presence.

  Emile blinked down at him, his eyes darkening, his pupils blowing up. His fingers tightened, and Sunny gulped, breath short, blood rushing south.

  “Ferny likes you, I mean.” And so do I, apparently.

  “Fernforest is an excellent judge of character.” Emile bent his neck, face looming, close to kissing distance but just out of reach.

  “He really is.” Sunny licked his lips, the parchment dryness alerting him to the fact he’d literally been panting.

  “Are you all right?” Emile brushed fingertips over Sunny’s cheek. “You’re flushed.”

  Sunny groaned and closed his eyes. Too close. Too hot. Too—

  Lips pressed to his and thought fled as Emile placed a careful, steadying kiss on his mouth.

  If the touch of Emile’s hand had been electric, the kiss was an explosion of brilliance and heat that burned through Sunny and left him—oddly—calm and still in its wake. Like a missing piece had flared and blazed, but then snicked perfectly into place somewhere inside him.

  He pulled back to find Emile leaning in, eyes closed, a breath easing out of him in a long, slow exhale. His features were serene, lips curled in a tranquil smile. He practically glowed for a split second, and the sight of his beauty awakened a pulse of need so strong, it made Sunny gasp.

  He took a step back, startled by the intensity.

  Emile blinked, straightened. His expression sharpened. A look of panic flicked through his eyes. He, too, stepped back. The motion made him waver. His knees folded, and Sunny reached out to catch him. As tall as he was, he still weighed practically nothing.

  A fetid breeze blew over them as Emile’s weight settled in Sunny’s arms. It smelled sulphurous and weighed Sunny down. He shuffled one foot, then the other, but it was like he was glued to the ground, unable to move.

  At the bottom of the yard, the trees swayed, branches clacking together, leaves flailing in a wild dance of air that coiled and crawled up the yard, curling around their legs in tendrils of hot breath and stinging sand and twigs. Tiny sharp stones drew spots of blood up on Sunny’s calves and shins, and he yelped.

  That sent Fernforest into a frenzy of yipping barks. He drew back his lips and grabbed at the air, teeth very nearly brushing Sunny’s skin. Like he was trying to sink his fangs into the offending wind, he danced and snapped, as irritated by the fact he couldn’t catch it as by the weirdly cloying wind itself.

  “Ferny!” Sunny tried to step away from the dog’s frantic nipping, but still his feet didn’t want to move very far very fast. The bridge over the little creek groaned loud enough they all turned to look. Shadows under the trees shifted, out of time with the madly whipping branches. The little creek splashed. The sounds of rushing water reached them, and a heartbeat later a cooler, fluttering breeze chased up the yard, brushing the heat and smell of ozone away.

  Fernforest barked, reared up on his hind legs, still yipping, then took off for the bridge and the water. He skidded to a stop, barking across the water a few times, like a little kid taunting something that couldn’t get to him from the other side. The trees shook vehemently one last time, then stilled. Fernforest raced back up the grade and past them to bark from the doorway of the house.

  “Shush, you stupid dog,” Sunny told him, then turned his attention to Emile, bracing the weight of his long, lean frame better against his side. “Can you stand?”

  Emile nodded. “I’m fine.” He struggled upright and tried, though not very hard, to push Sunny’s hands off him.

  “Let me help.”

  With a small nod, Emile let Sunny lead him back inside. Fernforest remained in the doorway, staring out, gaze fixed on the bottom of the yard, where the trees seemed to throw deeper-than-normal shadows, and their branches rustled in a wind that didn’t travel past the creek now, let alone as far as the house.

  “Ferny,” Sunny called. “Come inside.”

  The dog obeyed, and Sunny kicked the door closed. Immediately the feeling of oppression eased, and Emile sank into the centre of his little nest, drew his feet under him, and pulled an afghan up to his chin, all but his face hidden under the blanket. A few books tumbled to the floor
, and he gazed at them, distressed.

  “You need to rest more,” Sunny declared, determined to ignore the weird weather, the gooseflesh still crawling down his spine, and the way Ferny paced in front of the closed door, hackles half-raised. Instead, he focused on what he could actually do. He gathered some of the books from the couch, about to return them to their places on the shelf, but stopped at the soft sound Emile made.

  When he glanced up, Emile’s expression was half-greedy, half-distressed.

  “Okay.” Sunny tucked them back into the space between a pillow and the arm of the couch while Emile watched him closely, body visibly relaxing once the books had been tucked away. “Try to rest.”

  Emile nodded, fingers caressing the spines of each book in turn, though he was no longer looking at them. Something about having them where he could touch them seemed to calm him, so Sunny let them be.

  He fetched a new towel out of a drawer and wet it down so he could clean up the specks of drying blood on his shins caused by the sharp sand the wind had whipped up.

  Emile sighed. “I can’t stay here.”

  Throwing an uneasy glance out the window over the sink, Sunny frowned. “I think you have to stay here, actually.” A few quick twists of the towel expelled the excess water, and he used it to wipe down his legs. There was no real damage. All the spots of blood wiped away with no effort, and the pricks were too small, dusted over by the fuzz of leg hair, to bother trying to bandage. He straightened and went back to the sink.

  “Lie down for a few minutes. I’ll make us some lunch.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Sunny tossed the rinsed towel into the hamper and sat on the coffee table, where he could reach to touch Emile’s cheek lightly. “You’re clammy still. Pushing that wheelbarrow was a bit much for your first time out.”

  Emile looked at him through his lashes. His expression was unreadable, but he said nothing, just turned enough to kiss the tips of Sunny’s fingers, then nod.

  “Good deal.” Sunny smiled as best he could, knowing they were both ignoring something inexplicable. “We’ll eat, then we’ll talk.”