8 Hearts Beat As One: A Romance Anthology
Page 7
“Hey, yeah, no problem,” Wyatt said, still trying to get his hair back in place while eyeing the arguing birds. “They always so friendly?”
The woman sighed. “They used to be so in love. Grooming each other. They could barely be apart, but now?”
She indicated to the curtain rod. Each bird had settled on either end, glaring at one another.
Mr. Haufman came out of the office, setting both birds squawking at one another. “Satisfied?” he asked his wife. “A short call.”
Ragan did not seem satisfied at all, especially with the two lovebirds high pitched cries. “And it’s only taken how many weeks to schedule a simple appointment?”
Jazmine stepped forward before the humans started fighting as badly as the birds. “Well, I think we will need to do a thorough history and then discuss…”
“No need,” Wyatt announced. “I’ve got this covered.”
She turned on her heel. Wyatt seldom had anything “covered” and this? They had barely walked into the house. Jazmine knew they had to keep up the appearance that Wyatt had “psychic” abilities, but she comforted herself in doing their jobs properly. Figuring out all the environmental factors, making sure the pets had been to a veterinarian to be certain there were no underlying medical conditions, reviewing the pet’s diet, basically making sure that the clients got their money’s worth.
“Wyatt, perhaps we should take a moment…”
“Nope,” Wyatt stated. “I am hearing those lovebirds loud and clear.”
* * *
Wyatt, of course, had no real idea what he was going to say. When did he? But those lovebirds were looking a little twitchy, flapping their green wings and snapping open and closed their hooked beaks. Sure they might be weighed in grams, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t take a chunk out of you.
Besides he’d seen a couple like this before. Not the birds, but the humans. They looked just like his sister and brother-in-law. The way the husband was turned away from the wife, and the wife’s arms were wrapped around her waist. Add in this big rambling house, recently purchased as evidenced by the smell of fresh paint, plus the station wagon out front.
A couple didn’t buy all that without an expectation of the pitter-patter of little feet.
“You see,” Wyatt started. “I think the lovebirds want to start a family.” Jazmine backed away, shaking her head, but he ignored her peculiarities and marched on. “They want to build a nest.”
Mr. and Mrs. Haufman frowned, but not the scowl like Jazmine—more like a frown you get when somebody is talking turkey or in this case, lovebird.
“And sometimes the guy…”
“Bird,” Jazmine interjected.
“Yeah, the guy bird feels like he’s got to build this amazing nest. Since he can’t lay the eggs, building a tricked out nest, that’s his job, ya know?”
Mr. Haufman nodded as one of the birds flittered down from the curtain rod and landed on his shoulder.
“He’s worried he won’t be a good enough dad,” Wyatt hurried over Jazmine, “Bird dad. That his kids, I mean, chicks, I mean hatchlings, I mean…oh, you know what I mean, will need more than he can provide.”
While Mr. Haufman’s head was bobbing up and down in agreement, Mrs. Haufman had adopted Jazmine’s scowl. Wyatt turned to the wife.
“And while the dad, bird dad, of course, bird dad, is off getting the nest ready the mom bird feels left out and lonely.” The second little green and red monster swooped down landing on Mrs. Haufman’s shoulder as Wyatt continued, “Then she starts to wonder if the dad bird even wants little lovebirds anymore.”
Tears sprang to Mrs. Haufman’s eyes. “I can see why the birds have been so upset.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Haufman took his wife’s hand. “So the birds really should be building the nest together.”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Wyatt said giving Jazmine a knowing look, like “I know what I’m doing” look. Even if he did luck out a little on this one. “They are lovebirds after all.”
Ragan leaned her head onto her husband’s shoulder as the two birds took wing, flying together, swooping in and around one another.
“They just had to remember it,” Wyatt finished, looking to his watch. Like he said, under five minutes. “All right, then, I think we are done here. Nice to meet you both.”
He put his hand out to shake, but the lovebirds, the human ones, had eyes only for each other. Just as well. It was Valentine’s Day.
“We will let ourselves out,” he said.
They didn’t really reply so much as start making out. Time to exit stage left.
Once out the door, Jazmine elbowed him in the ribs.
“What?” Wyatt protested, rubbing his bruised side. “They’re happy.”
“Um, did you not notice?” she asked.
“Notice?”
“Those two lovebirds?” Jazmine said, that eyebrow on the move, again. “They are both girls.”
Wyatt just smiled. Sometimes he even impressed himself. “So they are very progressive lovebirds, what can I say? I’ve got the magic touch.”
His assistant rolled her eyes as they walked to their cars. So what if he didn’t know a weevil from a weasel? He knew dysfunction when he saw it. He lived it. Heck, he made it a viable lifestyle choice.
Which unfortunately meant he picked up on the droop in Jazmine’s step. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Your older man not wanting to build a nest?”
She stopped, eyes downcast. “Yeah, about that—I kind of fibbed.”
Fibbed? That was Wyatt’s thing, not Jazmine’s. “About what?”
“I don’t have a date, per se.”
Ugh. Wyatt hated it when people used weird words. Was “per se” Spanish? French? Seriously, speak English for goodness sake.
“You don’t?” he asked, hoping that was vague, yet prompting enough to get Jazmine to say what she really meant.
“I…” she looked up and caught his gaze. “I was going to visit your uncle in the hospital. I didn’t think he should be alone today.”
Wyatt could feel even his well-gelled hair wilt. His Uncle Bodhi. After that stupid stroke, he’d been in a coma. Wyatt had visited him every single day. Mainly because Diablo, the demon Chihuahua insisted, but today, today Wyatt had sworn off the hospital. He had three, count ‘em, three dates.
And who could sit through another round of Where the Red Fern Grows? Which by the way, someone might put a warning label on that sucker because the ending? Dear goodness, they had kids reading that book? Then he thought they’d be safe with Bambi and what do you know? The momma deer gets shot. Again, this is kid’s fare? And don’t get him started on Marley & Me.
What was wrong with an animal story that was fun and heartwarming all the way through? Seriously? He didn’t want his uncle waking up to a blubber-fest.
“But you go have fun,” Jazmine said fighting with the rusted lock of her beater-mobile.
“Nah,” Wyatt said jiggling the door’s handle, opening it. “I’ll follow you there.”
Jazmine cocked her head. “But you’ve got three, count ‘em, three dates.”
“Um, hello?” Wyatt stated, making sure he sounded plenty exasperated. “Don’t you know what day this is?”
“Valentine’s Day?” Jazmine answered slowly.
“No. It is meatloaf day down in the cafeteria and who, I ask, who is going to miss out on that?”
“Not you, I take it,” his assistant said chuckling.
“And not you, either,” Wyatt reassured her. “But since it is Valentine’s Day, we are putting extra ketchup on that sucker to honor the occasion.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jazmine said, as she hunched over to get in her tiny speck of a car.
“You know it,” Wyatt responded, walking back to his car, then turned back to Jazmine. “So do you know how Old Yeller ends?”
“I think we might want to go with Free Willy.”
Wyatt stopped short. “That’s an animal movie?”
&nbs
p; Jazmine’s dimples showed as she laughed. “Yes, Wyatt. Yes, it is.”
Huh. You learned something new every day.
~~
Black Jade
By Taylor Lee
San Francisco, Chinatown
February 1885
“Guipo biao! Come here!” Ting’s nasal screech echoed through the hallway. Struggling to quash her anger at the ugly curse, Daiyu hurried up the stairs, balancing the heavy loads of laundry in her strong arms. She was accustomed to Ting slurring her mixed heritage, but this was the first time that Ting called her a whore—at least, she thought with a dismissive shrug—to her face.
Lowering her eyes to avoid looking at the group of tittering girls lounging on the satin- covered pillows, she stole a quick glance at Ting Lyn.
Long ago, her father taught her the power of the anger-cleansing breath. Daiyu hid her grin. She was sure that her father would be amused if he knew that when it came to Ting, instead of a river of peace, Daiyu envisioned her anger breaths as a flurry of flying ants. She reveled in the image of Ting’s twisted face and squinty eyes as she furiously fought off the biting insects.
“You lazy girl! How long must I wait for my breakfast? I could starve while you lumber up the stairs,” Ting snarled. “What were you doing, guipo? Casting those ugly green eyes at the stable boys? Enticing them with your pale skin, your sweaty stench?”
“I will bring your breakfast immediately, Miss.” Daiyu kept her voice soft, her expression impassive, as she shelved the stacks of clean clothes. She learned long ago not to respond to the racially charged epithets of the vicious young woman.
Daiyu moved gracefully. Each day to amuse herself, she took on the attributes of one of the kung fu animals. Some mornings she was a dragon, sometimes a lion. Her favorite was the sensuous snake. Shoving down the bile of hate rising in her throat at Ting Lyn’s ugly words, she assumed the deceptively calm presence of a panther, sleek and muscular—its dark green eyes glittering ominously.
Moments later, she trudged up the stairs, shouldering heavy trays of hot tea and fragrant noodles, enough food for an army of men. More than enough for four overfed, spoiled young women. Concerned for her safety, Daiyu’s father, the famed sensei, appealed to Feng Sun, the leader of the Ong León Tong, to take her under his protection. Daiyu chafed at the oversight. She knew, as her father did, that of all the young women in Chinatown, she could protect herself. But forced to hide her forbidden warrior skills, Daiyu accepted the protective cover serving Feng Sun’s obnoxious offspring.
Daiyu entered the room as Ting whirled on Ang, her youngest cousin, focusing her wrath on the cowering girl. “You baboon! You scurrilous monkey! You knew this? Now you tell me? That Wei Sun, my beloved, is coming home? Will arrive any day?”
Daiyu stumbled as a rush of excitement skittered over her. Before she could catch them, the precariously balanced trays crashed to the floor. The shrieking girls scattered to avoid the splattering debris. When Ting Lyn wrenched forward to strike her, Daiyu ducked and Ting Lyn sailed by, landing in a pile of slithering noodles. Daiyu looked up to see Ang press her hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh. The other girls jumped back, unable to smother their gasps of horrified delight at the sight of Ting Lyn upended in the viscous mess.
That evening, Daiyu scampered along the narrow, dark streets heading home, her heart racing with excitement. She laughed out loud at the memory of Ting’s fury, but quickly forgot her abusive tirade—focusing instead on the joyous news. Wei Sun was coming home.
Ten long years hadn’t dulled the memory of Wei’s laughing eyes and teasing grin. God, she had adored him. As a young girl, Wei and her brother Bo were her closest companions. She was nine, and Wei and Bo were twelve when Wei left for China. Girls weren’t allowed to practice kung fu, but because she was talented and her father insisted, the boys let her practice with them. Surprising sensations rioted through her at the thought of the handsome boy—who Daiyu realized with a start—was now a man.
* * *
Three days later, Wei Sun bounded up the steps to Wong Li’s home. He had spent much of his youth in Wong Li’s center practicing the warrior arts under the expert tutelage of his beloved sensei. Ducking his head to clear the doorframe, he grinned at the confirmation of his height and breadth. It was invigorating returning to his childhood home as a man: strong, purposeful, and ready to assume the leadership role that his destiny decreed. After an hour of animated conversation with the man who was his second father, and Bo, his boyhood friend, Wei couldn’t hide his furtive glances.
“Are you looking for something, Wei? Or, perhaps, someone?’ Wong Li asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Wei gave him a sheepish grin, knowing his heated cheeks gave him away. “I confess. You know who I am looking for. Where is she? Don’t tell me our little Daiyu has gone off and gotten herself married?” He spoke the words carelessly, surprised at how anxious he felt waiting for Wong’s answer.
Wong Li gazed at him with a knowing smile. “No, she is not married. Our Daiyu is particular. She has chosen, most emphatically, not to marry.”
Wei glanced down to hide the flood of relief surging over him. When he saw Wong Li and Bo staring at him in amusement, he stuttered, “I … I have a gift for her. I never saw black jade before I went to China. Now I know why you named her that, Sensei. In all of China, I never saw anyone with eyes the color of Daiyu’s.”
Wong Li nodded in agreement. “Ah, yes. Daiyu’s eyes. If anything, Daiyu’s unusual beauty is more intense, now that she is a young woman.” Not attempting to hide his pride, he added, “Quite simply, she is lovely.”
Bo rolled his eyes and scoffed. “That is an understatement, Father. Every wealthy man in San Francisco is ravenous for her hand. But she refuses them all.” He grimaced, his eyes flashing with anger. “We had to put her under your father’s protection, Wei. Many of the powerful men who want her are unwilling to accept rejection by a woman.”
Wei turned on his friend, his voice sharp. “That makes me angry, Bo. Why do you let her out of the house? Why don’t you keep her here, where she’s safe?”
Wong Li smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Apparently, you have forgotten Daiyu. If you thought she was brash, high-spirited, and determined when she was nine years old, you should not be surprised at what she is like at nineteen years old.”
Wei snorted. “You are correct, Sensei. I remember well how determined and how stubborn she was.” He added with a rueful grin, “Bo and I never had a chance. We were helpless to her demands. Maturing has not softened her? Made her more compliant?”
Wong Li quirked a brow. “Iron does not soften with age, my son. It just becomes more complex.”
* * *
That evening, Wei sat across from his father and accepted the cigar Feng pushed across the desk. Wei basked in the approval he saw in his father’s hooded eyes. Feng Sun was the most powerful Tong leader in California. Strong men quaked in his presence. Few dared to look him in the eye. While Wei had never been afraid of his father, he respected him, knowing that the tales of his infamous temper and deadly skill with weapons were not exaggerated. But tonight there was nothing but pride on the older man’s solemn face as he gazed at his son.
“It is time that you came home, Wei. I am well pleased with you. You know it is my intent that you will be the leader of the Ong León. The reports from your teachers in China are replete with your skills as a warrior. I am proud of you, son, and eager to present you to my followers and to San Francisco’s powerful Chinese leaders. It is auspicious that we will celebrate your homecoming on the Chinese New Year.”
“It will be a great celebration, Father. I met with Wong Li and Bo today. They agreed to stage the Five Animal Tribute in honor of the occasion.” He smiled a cocky grin. “It only took me ten minutes to wrestle Bo to the ground to win the role of the dragon. I think even Wong Li was impressed with the expertise I gained in China.”
His father smiled in approval. “You and Bo always wer
e competitive, but being the son of Wong Li gave him an edge. It is good for this old warrior to know that you are now the strongest and most expert of the kung fu fighters.”
Wei forced a diffident tone, as though what he was saying was of little import. “I understand that you have given protection to Daiyu, Bo’s sister.”
“Yes. Daiyu was always a pretty child, but she is a startlingly beautiful young woman, no doubt the result of her mixed heritage.” Feng Sun frowned. “Her beauty added to her obvious disdain for the men wooing her is tantamount to waving a red flag in front of angry bulls.”
Struggling to quell the unexpected sensations roiling in his gut, Wei puffed on his cigar, affecting nonchalance. “Is she … Is Daiyu here, by any chance?”
Feng Sun scowled. “No. Along with your sisters, Daiyu is at your aunt’s home preparing for your homecoming celebration. I do not envy her. Your sisters, and most especially, your cousin, are exceedingly demanding.”
He threw his son a quizzical glance. “Tell me, Wei. Is the gossip I hear from your sisters true? They say that you will use the occasion of your homecoming celebration—which falls on Valentine’s Day—to announce your betrothal to your cousin, Ting Lyn.’
Wei snorted in surprise. “You jest, Father. I haven’t seen Ting Lyn for a decade. Good God, even as a boy I found her insufferable, her affectations intolerable.”
Feng Sun nodded in mute agreement, then added, “Well, Son, you may not plan to wed your “challenging” cousin, but you must know that Ting and her mother have been planning your wedding since you were children.”
Wei grimaced, thinking about the simpering girl who refused to walk in the sun lest she darken her complexion or soil her dress. He grinned to himself, remembering Daiyu’s dirty face and her triumphant shout when she pinned him to the bare ground with a vicious throw.