by Laurel Kerr
“Your disfluency is part of you,” she said, “and there’s nothing wrong with showing a little in your video.”
He watched her in disbelief. Old taunts played in his head. M-M-M-Mangle M-M-Mouth M-M-Magnus. Ma-Ma-Magnus. You’re blethering like a deeskit nyaff again, son. Hold your wheesht if you can’t talk like a normal bloke. Stop letting your tongue get all snirled up, you bulder.
“Your problem is you’re not connecting with your readers. This will humanize you. Everyone has difficulties they struggle to overcome. You’ll give them something to identify with, even if they don’t have disfluency.”
Hell, the lass was making some sort of sense, not that Magnus particularly liked it. He’d been the village idjit as a child, and he had no desire to become an international one as an adult.
“Give it a try,” June said. “If you don’t like it, I’ll delete the video. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. You can watch me get rid of it. I swear.”
Magnus hesitated, but the lass had already watched him stumble over his words for an hour yesterday. Although the woman could be dictatorial, she seemed to be an honest sort, and he trusted her to delete the recording if he asked.
“We stop when I say we stop.”
“Understood,” June said and flashed him one of her most brilliant smiles. “You won’t have regrets, I promise.”
He was not so sure, but he nodded anyway. “So how do I go about this?”
“Try a short introduction,” June said. “Pretend you’re just chatting with me at a coffee shop. Tell me that you stutter and throw one in on purpose. Don’t use a word you usually block on, though.”
June walked over to where the zoo’s professional camera was set up on a tripod. As she adjusted the equipment, Magnus stared into the lens. He doubted this would work, but with only another day left until his deadline, he had no choice.
“Try looking at me and not the camera,” June said as she stepped to the side of the tripod. “It’s important to maintain eye contact.”
Taking a deep breath, Magnus stared into June’s grass-green irises and did something he’d never done before. He didn’t try to hide the way he naturally talked, didn’t try to fight it, didn’t worry about his words trapping him.
* * *
As June watched Magnus, a smile drifted over her lips. His speech wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But it was better than yesterday. Much, much better. And the more he spoke, the more he began focusing on the subject matter and not on forming syllables. He tussled with Sorcha as he reminisced about the cubs he’d raised before. Then, gradually, as Sorcha pounced on his knee, he began to speak like he wrote. Boldly. Colorfully. Sensually. She felt drawn into his tale, drawn into him.
Katie would need to edit the video to make it smooth enough for listeners to follow. There were a couple places where Magnus had a hard block, but overall, June hoped he wouldn’t mind showing most of his moments of disfluency. It would be a compelling piece.
“How did I sound, lass?” Magnus asked as he concluded.
“As they say on your side of the pond, ‘brilliant’!” June said. “How did it feel to you?”
“Not b-b-b-bloody b-b-brilliant,” Magnus said. But he didn’t scowl, which June took as a sign of success.
“Do you want to watch it?” June asked.
He nodded reluctantly and moved to stand next to her. Although he did not touch her, June’s entire body reacted to his nearness. Her nerve receptors seemed programmed to sense the exact type of heat he radiated. As she pressed Play, she could feel his breath on her cheek. She wanted to turn in to the caress of air, to press her lips against his, but she didn’t. The man didn’t truly want her…not yet.
But she still couldn’t stop her awareness of him. Her whole body tingled with suppressed desire. No man had ever triggered such a reaction with his mere breath. She wondered what it would be like to fall into bed with him. How would it feel to fan this smoldering heat and passion into a bonfire?
She imagined his body above her, beneath her. When he came inside her, would his massive frame tremble? Would his blue eyes glow in intensity, or would they darken in satisfaction? She thought of him gazing down at her as he entered her and then of his eyelids squeezed tight as his orgasm shook him.
Her own body grew rigid with need. June swore her breath had started to come out in puffs. Firmly, she forced herself to stop thinking about the man naked. Instead, she concentrated on the video. In replay, it was just as good as she thought.
“What do you think?” June asked when it finished.
Magnus stepped back, looking thoughtful. “It wasn’t as b-b-bad as I’d believed.”
“A couple places could use some editing, but Katie is good at that. And most videos require some tweaking.”
Magnus nodded sharply and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Aye.”
“Is it something you’d feel comfortable posting?”
He paused. “I am not sure, lass.”
Just then, Sylvia bumped against him. June swore the capybara had more intuition than some humans. Magnus smiled down at the rodent and patted her on the head. Sylvia sighed and then moved off to settle down on the bed of blankets that she currently shared with Sorcha.
“I think your readers will love it,” June told him. “You’ve developed a real bond with Sorcha, and it shows. It’s adorable watching you two tussle.”
“There will be more than one comment on my stuttering. People will complain I should have fixed it.”
June didn’t answer right away. She didn’t have jam handy for this conversation, but she knew one way to make Magnus feel comfortable. Walking over to the corner where Sorcha was now trying to climb over her toys, June plunked down and patted the floor. Magnus followed suit. She handed him a frayed rope, and the little bear immediately began to play tug-of-war.
“Magnus, you will get mean, nasty comments. The internet is full of ignorant trolls. Even Bowie has received negativity for his videos, and his posts are so popular he’s been on two different talk shows. Most of your feedback will be positive.”
Magnus focused on Sorcha as he jerked the rope back and forth. The cub made a playful growl, one that she would have used in the wild when roughhousing with another cub or her mama.
“I don’t really have a choice,” Magnus said slowly. “My d-d-deadline’s tomorrow, and the video’s better than I’d hoped.”
He looked up, his blue eyes locking onto hers. “You were right, lass. Stuttering on p-p-purpose helped. Thank you.”
Triumph, as warm and sweet as hot fudge on a sundae, slid through June. She’d always taken pleasure in helping people, gratitude or not. But hearing the appreciation in Magnus’s low voice started a flutter deep in her belly that formed into a bubble of joy.
“You’re welcome.”
When Magnus spoke again, his voice was low and deep. “And you were correct about eye contact as well. You have b-b-bonny eyes, lass. They remind me of fresh grass in the spring.”
Warmth spread through June. Men had complimented her green irises before, but never like that. June tried to remind herself that Magnus was a writer, and he knew how to wield words. But still she couldn’t stop the rush of emotion swirling through her. Swallowing, she asked in a surprisingly even voice, “Would you like me to be with you when you post it?”
Magnus paused, glancing at the cub. He waved his big hand near Sorcha’s snout, allowing the little girl to lunge at it. The polar bear caught his fingers in her paws, and she began to happily gum his thumb. June waited patiently, even though it just about killed her. Finally, Magnus spoke.
“Aye, lass, you can join me.”
* * *
Magnus sat stiffly in front of his laptop as he wondered why he’d foolishly agreed to have June present when he uploaded the video. He did things alone. Always.
His da, for all his re
clusiveness, had always required a companion. Someone to assist with the chores. Someone to make breakfast. Someone to control.
But Magnus was a true loner. He’d always preferred the croft when his da was out on his trawler. He’d learned self-sufficiency early on, and it suited him.
So, it galled Magnus that not only had he agreed to June’s presence, but a part of him welcomed it. Gladly. Having her sitting next to him, feeling her arm pressed against his, made all of this easier. Not easy. But easier.
The video was more professional than he’d imagined. Aye, it wasn’t perfect. His stuttering was evident. But with Katie’s editing, it felt smooth if not quite polished. An odd sense of pride had crept through him when he’d watched it a second time. He’d done it. Something he’d never thought he’d accomplish. And he owed much of it to the lass beside him.
But making the video, as hard as that had been, paled in comparison to uploading it to his author’s website. Magnus was normally not a feartie, but the idea of stuttering, even voluntarily, on such a public forum caused his innards to turn baltic. Memories, long buried, clawed for escape from their icy tomb.
June’s hand suddenly rested on his knee. Delicate. Warm. And strangely safe.
“Are you ready?”
“Aye,” he lied and reached forward. Before he could stop himself, he clicked the mouse, sending the video hurtling into cyberspace. There was no retracting it. A pit formed in the depth of his gullet. He would have felt less exposed if he’d posted a picture of his naked arse.
“How are you feeling?” June asked.
Magnus grunted and sent an email to his publisher and agent with a link to the video. There, he’d done it. He’d met their accursed deadline.
June beamed. “This calls for a celebration.”
She reached into the ridiculously large bag that she insisted on calling a purse. His scorn evaporated when she withdrew Highland Park whiskey and two shot glasses. Magnus raised an appreciative eyebrow. It had been distilled in Orkney for over two hundred years.
“My grandfather’s favorite,” June explained.
“Mine too,” Magnus said as the lass poured them both shots.
“He got a taste for it when he was stationed in Tammay,” June explained. “It’s become my whiskey of choice when I’m not drinking bourbon.”
“D-D-Damn Yank,” Magnus scoffed.
She poked him. “When a woman has a drawl thicker than molasses and drinks Kentucky bourbon, she is not a Yankee. She is a southerner.”
Magnus raised his glass to her. “Very well, Miss Scarlett O’Hara.”
“You mock, but I make a mean mint julep. Both in drink form and as a jam that tastes delicious with lamb.”
He swiftly grabbed the bottle of Highland Park and held it to his chest. “Not with this whiskey, you don’t.”
She laughed. The sound was as bright as the sun sparkling on a calm sea. It seemed to flow through him, washing away the doubt pooling inside him. He’d never teased a lass like this…or laughed with one.
But a chuckle formed deep in his chest and came rumbling out. It felt good, being with June.
“You play nice, now, or you’re not getting the next thing in my purse.”
“B-b-bloody hell, how much do you have stowed in there?”
She ignored him and pulled out two scones and a jar of preserves. “No celebration is complete without my jam. This one is called Apricot Delight. It’s one of my favorites.”
Sweet, decadent flavor exploded in Magnus’s mouth as he took a bite. The lass could cook. He hadn’t had a scone this good since he left Tammay, and certainly none in the States had ever come close to being this delicious. And the jam was pure magic. Light, fruity, with just a hint of cloves for contrast. He closed his eyes, savoring the tastes, letting them blend in his mouth. When he opened his eyelids, he found June looking at him, her eyes once again the color of emeralds.
“I could watch you eat my food all day long,” she said, her voice husky.
Magnus felt a hot blush stain his cheeks. He swallowed. He yearned to lean forward, to capture her lips with his. But he didn’t. A relationship with June would never work, and he didn’t need the pain…or more memories to bury.
He pulled back, and he thought he might have detected the faintest glimmer of hurt in June’s eyes. Before he could look closer, the lass busied herself with rooting in her muckle bag again.
This time, when she reached inside, she pulled out something covered in wrapping paper with a bow on top. He stared at it warily. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d received a present. His da had normally forgotten his birthday and had never been one for celebrating the holidays.
“It isn’t much. It’s not even new,” June explained, “but I wanted you to have it.”
Slowly, Magnus reached forward and accepted the gift. Feeling almost as awkward as he had when posting the bloody video, he ripped off the paper. To his surprise, a book of children’s poetry fell into his lap. He raised his eyes to June in confusion.
“It was mine,” she said. “From speech therapy. I used it to practice reading in a mirror. The poems are silly, but I think it’s one of the reasons I have so little disfluency today. Growing up, I couldn’t keep a lot of my stuff since we were constantly moving to different military bases. But this I kept. I even took it to college.”
Magnus shook his head and extended the anthology to her. It humbled him that she had offered it to him, but he could not take her childhood treasure. “I cannot accept this.”
She wrapped her fingers around his and gently pushed her gift against his chest. Her eyes had returned to their gentler grass green, and she said simply, “You need it.”
He realized rejecting the gift would insult her, so he gave a brusque nod and closed his fingers around the book. She grinned. A gossamer softness slipped through Magnus and seemed to settle in the very core of his being. His body, against his will, leaned toward June, pulled to her like the tide under the thrall of the moon.
Before his lips could graze hers, his mobile rang. His agent. He fished it from the pocket of his trousers and lifted it in June’s direction. “I b-b-better take this, lass.”
She nodded and, in typical American fashion, flashed him two thumbs up. He nodded in response before answering.
“Magnus, that was amazing,” Lauren said. “The readers will love it. But I didn’t know you stuttered.”
“Aye,” Magnus said.
“You should have told me. We could’ve talked to Mitch if you didn’t feel comfortable with the vlog.”
“It needed to…” Magnus paused as he felt his throat begin to close over the word be. Any other time, he would have switched to a different word. But he saw June give him a nod of encouragement. If he could post a video of himself stuttering on the internet, he could trip over a word or two while talking to his agent who he’d known for years. Magnus swallowed and allowed himself to speak naturally: “…b-b-be d-d-done.”
Just then, he heard a ping on his mobile indicating a waiting call. Pulling it from his ear, he glanced down to see his editor’s number. “M-M-Mitch is calling me,” he told Lauren.
“Go. Take it. Keep up the good work.”
“Aye.” Swiping with his finger, he switched over. His editor’s Boston accent immediately boomed through the mobile’s speakers.
“I just watched your video. It was great, compelling. Everything your last books have been needing,” Mitch said. “Have you considered talking about your stutter in the next one?”
“You want m-me to write about it?” Magnus asked, not quite sure how that made him feel.
“Yeah,” Mitch said. “It’s good stuff for the kind of introspective work you do. Readers would eat it up.”
Still, Magnus wasn’t convinced, and Mitch must have noticed his hesitation because he added, “Just think about it.”
Mitch said his goodbye shortly after that. Neither of them was one for blethering once the real business was complete. When Magnus returned the mobile to his pocket, he found June watching him. Although he hadn’t used the speaker feature, his volume was high enough that she’d apparently heard every word.
“What your editor suggested might not be the worst idea in the world.”
Magnus cocked his head, regarding her. Given the success of his first vlog entry, he was beginning to realize he shouldn’t dismiss her ideas outright. She wasn’t a nyaff, just a wee bit overenthusiastic.
“And why is that, lass?”
“You told me once your writing was like a purge. Maybe it would help you to work through everything surrounding your disfluency. When you’re done, you’ll be left with only your own perspective of your natural speech patterns, and not what everybody else has been telling you to feel and do for years.”
Magnus stared at June, surprised by her insight. Her words not only made sense; they appealed to him. He liked the notion of ridding himself of the rubbish surrounding his stutter. The lass had the right of it. A purge would do him good.
“I also brought you this,” June said as she pulled out a stack of papers held together with a black clip.
“That really is a wizard’s bag,” Magnus said.
She ignored him. “It’s a printout of a self-help book on stuttering. My brother recommended it. It’s written by a cofounder of a major company who also experienced disfluency.”
Magnus tried not to show his skepticism as he said gently, “I d-d-don’t think anything will cure my stutter, lass.”
“This book isn’t about curing it,” June said. “It’s about you having control over it.”
Control. Now that Magnus could respect. He reached for the papers. “Thank you, lass.”
She nodded toward the stack. “There are a lot of steps in there, none of them easy, but you have the determination.”
It was odd, being complimented about something personal. He’d grown accustomed to praise about his writing, but not about himself. He nodded stiffly, staring down at the sheaf of papers.