by Alyssa Kress
Matt had let him in the front door and while they were talking in the living room, Gary had got that glimpse he'd been wanting. He might as well have stayed in town. Kerrin had come wandering in with a faraway expression on her face, the kind she wore when he peeked into her office and her nose was in a book. "Anyone seen my glasses?" she'd asked, stalking the corners of the room in a vague way. Off-hand she'd noticed Gary. "Oh, hi there. Hmm. They must be in my room somewhere, then." And off she'd wandered down the hall, as though Gary's presence was about as important as one of the lampshades.
Matt had looked after her. "I've seen her do that with her glasses right here." He'd held out his hand as if it were gripping a pair of spectacles. "Come on, the weights are in the garage."
Sheer frustration had lent Gary strength and he'd bench-pressed enough to amaze the kid for life. As he was getting ready to leave, rubbing his neck and chest with a towel, Matt had asked if he fished. Gary had never fished in his life; he'd never been that close to a wild stream. But there'd been something in the kid's eyes, such an innocent desire to please, that he'd impulsively agreed. Sure, he'd go fishing, if Matt didn't mind taking out a rank amateur.
Matt didn't mind. In fact, he seemed gratified to be the one doing the teaching for a change. "Okay," he said now, pleased he'd succeeded in untangling the lines. "This rod is for you." He handed one of the lightweight rods to Gary.
Gary accepted the rod with trepidation. "I hope you're not going to tell me I have to stick some poor worm on the end of this hook."
Matt looked horrified. "God no. This is dry fly fishing, Gary. Live bait ‑‑ " He paused as though unsure how to make his denunciation strong enough. "That's for wusses."
"Pardon me."
Matt tied the fly, which Gary was relieved to note was artificial, onto Gary's hook and explained the basic principles of casting. It was a matter of trying to trick the fish into thinking the collection of feathers on the end of your hook was a live insect.
"Now that's what I use." Matt pointed to the inner tube contraption Gary had hauled to the stream from the car. "I brought a pair of my dad's waders for you."
While Gary was fitting his legs into the plastic overalls of the waders, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Matt maneuvered himself into the inner tube that bobbed at the edge of the stream. The kid had a lot of upper body strength and a natural agility. Still, it took effort on Gary's part not to try helping.
Matt, ensconced in his inner tube and floating on the surface of the stream, looked back at Gary, who was tying knots to shorten the length of the shoulder straps on the waders.
Gary grinned wryly at him. "Your Dad must be about a foot taller than I am."
"Funny, you don't seem that short."
There was a peculiar implication in the statement that knocked against the unfamiliar inner nerve that Matt and his sister kept hitting. Gary hastily turned to pick up his rod. Instead of dwelling on that nerve or what it signified, he recalled his meeting with Matt's father this morning when he'd come to pick the kid up. Tom Horton was tall all right, and Gary had seen immediately where Kerrin got her faraway, abstracted expression. But there'd also been intelligence in the man's light brown eyes. For a moment it had sparked out crystal clear as he'd taken Gary's measure. Gary supposed it was natural for a father to want to check out his son's companions, but he couldn't shake the feeling there'd been more to Horton's close scrutiny than that.
"I still don't understand what the cowboy hat is for," Gary said as he cautiously stepped into the moving water and balanced that unusual piece of equipment on his head.
Matt snickered. "You will. Start casting and every once in a while you miscalculate. The hook comes right for the nape of your neck."
"I think I get it."
With a little instruction from Matt, Gary was soon casting with respectable skill. They fished for an hour or so in a companionable manner, talking a little, chuckling a little. The silence of the countryside, the gentle rush of the stream, the pure clear smells started to work magic on Gary. A bone-deep relaxation stole over him.
Matt maneuvered himself with athletic ease between rocks and boulders as they worked their way upstream. True, the kid had a lot of power in those arms and pecs of his, but Gary caught an impression sometimes he was getting a little help...from down below. Yes, once or twice he could have sworn he'd seen Matt push off the bottom with a trailing leg.
But Gary shook his mental head. It must have been an illusion created by the water. Nobody in his right mind would be sitting in a wheelchair if he didn't have to.
"Say, Gary," Matt said, frowning as he played with his line. "I got a...question."
Sensing diffidence, Gary kept his gaze on his own line. "Shoot."
"This isn't easy." Matt's voice got lower. "Dammit."
Gary ventured a quick glance downward. "This have to do with the class?"
"Sort of," Matt slowly admitted. "I...want to be excused from class next week," he finished in a rush.
For next week Gary had promised the class they were going to talk about sex ‑‑ the real thing and not according to the charts and diagrams Kerrin had in her prude little lesson plan. The kids, Gary had felt looking out at them one morning, needed the straight story, not a bunch of interesting, but irrelevant, scientific data.
But Matt, apparently, did not want quite so much honesty.
"Would it help," Gary now asked, "if I split up the guys from the girls?" It had occurred to him this might create a more comfortable situation.
Matt squirmed. "Not much. See, I already get...unwanted curiosity."
"Oh." Gary wasn't sure what Matt meant, but he couldn't have excused him from class even if he did. During summer school no more than one absence was allowed in order to get credit.
"Aw, hell, Gary." Matt squirmed some more. "I can just see it coming, the speculation. About me. That part of my body, whether or not it works."
Oh. Feeling scared suddenly, Gary raised an eyebrow and looked straight at Matt. "Does it?"
"Hell." Looking like he wanted to be sick, Matt stared into the brush edging the stream. But he answered. "I think so."
Relaxing, Gary suppressed a smile. "You think so?" He threw out his line, reducing his scrutiny of the boy while inside he felt a wave of relief. This was just embarrassment, that was all. "Don't you think you'd better find out for sure?"
Gary could feel Matt give him a quizzical glance. "Like, how?"
Swallowing a laugh, Gary explained calmly. "You know. The usual way."
"Oh." Fortunately, Matt knew what he meant. But he gave Gary a highly suspicious look. "Grown men don't do that ‑‑ do they?"
"Mmmmm." Gary bit his tongue until he was sure it must have started bleeding. Then he thought of five years worth of lonely nights and he didn't feel quite so much like laughing. "You better believe they do," he admitted.
"Oh." Matt's gaze in Gary's direction went speculative before he turned to take care of his line. His mouth twisted. "Not that it'd make any difference. It's not like any girl'd look at me."
Gary's brows came down. Beyond the raw pain in the kid's voice was something else, something very strange.
Trust.
My God, Gary thought, staring at him, he looks up to me. The realization shivered along his deep, unused nerve. It threatened to blossom into something wholly novel.
He cleared his throat and threw out his line. He knew he didn't deserve the kid's trust, but he wasn't ready to give it up yet, either. "I wouldn't be so hasty to come to that conclusion, if I were you."
Matt's voice was bitter. "What girl would want to have anything to do with a guy who can't walk?"
"Matt ‑‑ " Gary paused to consider his words. "Women see sex completely different from the way men do. You can't judge what'll turn them on based on the things that turn you on."
Matt glanced up. "What do you mean?"
Gary let out a breath. "No man has really solved that mystery, but my own personal observation is that a
woman's far more concerned with how a man treats her and how he makes her feel than anything else."
Matt made a snorting sound. "Sure."
"Well, it's possible that rule doesn't hold when you're sixteen years old," Gary admitted. "But you'll grow out of sixteen-year-old girls." He grinned. "They're a lot more interesting when they're older, anyhow."
Staring at his rod, Matt appeared to consider this advice with due incredulity. Then he switched his gaze to Gary. He waited until Gary was pulling back for an overhead cast to speak again.
"Say Gary, do you like my sister, Kerrin?"
Gary's leader went straight into the trees arching over the stream.
"Wait a sec," Matt told him, peering at the hook now stuck among the branches. "I can probably get that out for you." Lifting his rod, he poked it into the tree leaves overhead.
In chagrined silence, Gary watched Matt free his line.
As the line fell from the tree, Matt looked up into Gary's set face. "Yeah." He flashed a brilliant grin. "That's what I thought."
Gary gave him the sort of glare he reserved for the worst of the cons in his cell block, for when he felt most threatened.
"Yes, I know." Matt sighed. He cast out his own line with equanimity, despite Gary's expert glare. "It's none of my business. It's just...I don't know when Kerrin's going to get another chance with a guy like you. I mean," Matt hastened to add while turning a little red in the face, "it's not as if she doesn't have any chances at all. Uh, she's had boyfriends, sort of, and like that."
Gary watched as Matt swished his leader across the shady spot where he'd tossed it. A very strange and unexpected realization dawned on him. "A guy," he repeated carefully, "like me. What does that mean?"
Matt concentrated on the shady eddy under the brush. "You know, a real man, a regular guy." He smirked. "Not like that wuss, Victor Bothmann last winter."
Gary's stomach twisted first one way, then the other. It was true! Gary could hardly believe it. Matt had brought the matter up because he approved of him as a suitor for his sister ‑‑ not to warn him off. Then his stomach twisted the other way as he asked, "Who is Victor Bothmann?"
Matt reeled in his line. "This guy who came to stay with us last January. Harvard professor or research assistant or something like that. A total...well, wuss. There's no other word to describe him."
A Harvard professor. Gary's stomach twisted further. "And he and Kerrin...?"
"Nah." Matt shook his head. "Frankly, I don't even think Dr. Bothmann likes girls. You see, that's what I mean. Out in the boondocks here Kerrin doesn't get a chance to meet, er, you know, guys. Real guys."
Gary raised an eyebrow, willing for the moment to believe Dr. Bothmann from Harvard was gay. More than willing. But then he had to shake his head. What did it matter? "You're right," he told Matt tightly, "it is none of your business." He shot out his line with a vengeance, wondering how Matt would alter his opinion if he knew where Gary usually lived. "Besides, your sister thinks I'm another species of bacteria."
Matt watched Gary reel in his line. He refrained, Gary was relieved, from scolding him about trying to throw too far. "Now we're agreed it's none of my business," the kid carefully admitted. "And one of the last things a guy wants to do is spill his sister's secrets..."
He let his voice trail off and Gary's curiosity got the better of him. He turned to look down at Kerrin's brother. Who, he wondered, was the actual fish here?
Matt looked back up at him with a peculiar half smile. "The truth is, Kerrin's crazy about you."
Crazy? Oh yeah, Gary thought he knew who was crazy. Suppressing the urge to guffaw, he gave Matt's statement as much attention as it deserved, turning to cast another line.
"Y'see, ya gotta know Kerrin." Matt obviously sensed he was losing his catch. "Damn it, you haven't spent nearly your whole life with her. I know how she behaves whenever she likes a guy. Hell, don't take my word for it. Ask anyone in town. Everyone knows what she does."
Gary's hook went unnoticed in the water.
Matt took his silence for willingness to listen. "The minute she gets attracted to someone, she starts ignoring him. I know it doesn't make sense, but since when did Kerrin make sense? That's what she does. She has been ignoring you, hasn't she?"
Frowning, Gary let his leader drift downstream. This was true ‑‑ but it didn't mean anything. He knew why Kerrin was ignoring him. He'd taken raw advantage of her with his kiss and she didn't care to repeat the experience. Perfectly understandable. He shook his head.
"All right. Take yesterday. What a coincidence that Kerrin had to come out and look for her glasses just when you happened to be in the living room."
Gary's leader floated further downstream. "Big deal."
Matt heaved a deep sigh. "I was hoping you weren't going to be as stupid as she is. But okay ‑‑ I'll make a bet with you."
Gary glanced at him suspiciously. "What kind of bet?"
Matt's expression turned superior. "My mom is supposed to come pick me up from your new house later this afternoon, right?"
"Right."
"Well, how much you wanta bet Kerrin will be the one to end up coming with the car? With some really great excuse, of course. Naturally she won't have time to come inside," Matt went on knowledgeably. "You'll see. She'll spend about two seconds saying hi to you and then she'll be on her way back to the car. Ignoring you ‑‑ but not really ignoring you. Making sure she gets a chance to see you." He shrugged and made a lazy cast with his line. "You'll see."
Gary watched as Matt's lazy cast fell softly into the water. "Fine," he said, "It's a bet."
Matt's lazy cast caught the first bite of the day. With a stifled exclamation, Matt reeled in the fish while it twisted and fought. A minute later he held the silver trout in his hands.
He grinned at Gary. "Whoever loses," he said, "cleans the fish."
CHAPTER NINE
The house sat on the last street of town. It was known as the "Wilson's," even though the Wilsons had moved away over thirty years ago. Beyond it, hay fields stretched toward the Sierra Nevada mountains. A small house, only one bedroom, it was traditionally rented by one of the itinerant teachers who passed through town.
As Kerrin parked her car under a shady sycamore out front, she wondered what had made Gary break down under Marge Hellman's tireless barrage and rent the place. Marge, the lone realtor in town, had all the determination of the desperate, but Gary was a hard sell.
Automatically, Kerrin checked the time as she went up the front walk. It had been silly, she'd told her mother, not to let Kerrin make the run into town to pick up Matt. She had to drop by her office anyway. Kerrin was working on the curriculum for the coming school year, a project that always took longer than she'd expected. It was her own fault for bad planning if she had to work a few hours on a Saturday.
She walked up the porch steps and, after a brief hesitation, knocked on the front door. Her stomach did one of its slow dives. She hoped it would be Matt who opened the door.
It was Gary.
He took one look at her and a strange expression chased across his face; very strange under the circumstances. It was shock. Kerrin took a half step back, rather surprised, herself. "Um, is Matt ready to go?" she asked.
Gary hesitated, then opened the door wider and gestured with a tilt of his head. "I don't know. Why don't you come in?"
"Oh no." With this hasty denial, Kerrin gave her watch a worried glance. "If you'd just fetch him, um, I could be on my way." The man was just so...male.
A small half smile curved Gary's mouth, causing Kerrin's stomach to go through some interesting antics. Then, before she could think of a way to cut the whole interaction short, his hand somehow got hold of her own. He gently pulled. "Come on in."
Kerrin had no choice but to step over the threshold.
He closed the door behind her and only then let go of her hand. With that electrical connection severed, Kerrin was able to take in her surroundings. She'd seen it all before: the m
ismatched furniture that came with the little house, dating from three different decades, and the fading curtains over the windows. But somehow this afternoon the living room of the little house looked different; smaller, more interesting.
Gary knocked on the swing door of the kitchen. "Matt, your sister's here."
There was the sound of something dropping to the floor.
"Oh dear." Kerrin hoped her brother wasn't creating a mess in Gary's kitchen. The next moment Matt wheeled into the door opening. He glanced toward his sister, then swung his gaze in Gary's direction. The two men exchanged a very odd look. A big smile took over Matt's face.
"The fish," he told Gary, making a grand gesture toward the kitchen, "await your pleasure."
"Oh no," Gary said.
"Oh yes."
"You caught some fish?" Kerrin asked.
"Three by me. One by Gary," Matt answered. "A big one."
Gary gave Kerrin a hopeful look. "Wanta see it?"
"Well ‑‑ "
"Come on." Looping an arm around her shoulders, Gary directed Kerrin toward the kitchen. Matt scooted out of their way.
"Oh, but I ‑‑ " His arm around her ‑‑ so male again. Meanwhile, in the kitchen four fish lay prone on the white laminate counter. One of them was perhaps an inch longer than the others. Gary's 'big' fish. "That's very nice, Gary. Very...big."
Gary let go of Kerrin and picked up a knife. He held it handle forward toward Kerrin. Automatically, she accepted the instrument. "What's this for?"
Leaning over to check that Matt was in the living room, Gary turned back to Kerrin. His expression was woeful. "You're going to clean them."
"I'm ‑‑ what? Oh no." Kerrin tried to hand the knife back to him. "How do I get stuck with this job? If you don't want to clean them you shouldn't catch them."