BODACIOUS

by Sharon Ervin

  His dark eyes shimmered. “B.”

  “What does the B stand for?”

  He grinned broadly, apparently pleased with the question. His eyes didn’t release hers. “I was a big baby. A ten pounder. My dad’s been in Oklahoma a lot of years, but he hearkens back to his small town Arkansas beginnings. Dad has a favorite term. When he considers something to be outstanding, he calls it bodacious.

  “Mom wouldn’t let it be my first name. It’s my second. Officially, my name’s Alex B. Cadence. Everyone who knows me well--family, friends, teachers, coaches--call me ‘Bo.’ Always have.”

  Sara drew another shivering breath, nodding and staring at him.

  There was no disfigurement. His features were strong. Perfect. She had assumed the unruly beard, all that hair, masked scars, imperfections. She’d never even dreamed...

  Again aware of Rezabec, Sara noticed that her co-worker had stopped to give Crownover an animated report of something, during which the managing editor glanced toward Sara and the man she was interviewing.

  Her breathing became erratic. “Could I see the inside of your right hand?”

  Slowly Cadence turned his hand and presented it for her inspection.

  There it was. The second lifeline.

  “How’d you get that scar?” Her words sounded tactless.

  His eyes narrowed, but he continued looking at her, into her, holding her gaze with his own. “I cut it opening a can of beans at scout camp when I was eight.”

  Sara’s eyes brimmed with tears as she recoiled, sitting back in her chair. “Were you a klutzy kid, then?”

  “A lot of kids are klutzy when they’re eight.”

  She looked around the room, wild-eyed, feeling suddenly disoriented, biting her lips to hold in the gathering explosion.

  “Sara?” Crownover’s voice boomed at her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  She bobbed her head up and down, unable to breathe regularly, much less form an appropriate response.

  Alex stood. “I don’t think she’s feeling well.” He ignored Rezabec who was again pacing in and out of the cubicle. “Ms. Loomis and I live in the same building. She had car trouble this morning. I gave her a lift to work. I think maybe I’d better take her home.”

  Crownover nodded. “Yeah, she’s flushed. Looks like she might be getting sick. Could be contagious.” He grinned and nodded at her kindly. “Probably better get her out of here before she gives me something.”

  “I’ll take her,” Rezabec offered too loudly.

  Crownover, Cadence and Sara all chorused, “No.”

  Alex slipped into his coat as he walked over to retrieve Sara’s wrap from the coat rack. He had to pick up a glove and the stocking cap which dropped from her pocket as he crossed the room. He held her coat as she put her hands into the sleeves, then put an arm around her shoulders to guide her toward the back stairwell.

  “Hey!” Crownover called, stopping them at the bottom of the stairs.

  Alex turned to look up at him.

  “What about this story, the one about your new job?”

  “There’s no hurry. We’ve got plenty of time for that. Right now, I think we need to see about getting Sara home to bed.

  * * *

  “See about getting Sara home to bed?” Sara repeated as they wound through traffic down the thoroughfare back to The Oaks. “I don’t like what you’re thinking.”

  Alex grinned. “I don’t think you want to know what I’m thinking, given your condition and all.”

  “My condition?”

  “You know, flushed, feverish, a little unsteady on your feet. Crownover’s right. It may be contagious. I’m feeling a little lightheaded myself.”

  Sara gave him a hard stare. “Is this really you?”

  He returned her serious look and gave her one brief, significant nod.

  She shuddered. “I didn’t recognize your voice, but I’d know that nod anywhere.”

  He reached for her hand. She pulled it away from him. When he tried again, she allowed her cold hand to be enveloped in his warm one and asked, “How long have you been in Overt?”

  “Two or three weeks.”

  “Why here?”

  He looked as if she were kidding. “You know good and well why. It’s where you are.”

  “But you didn’t come for me first thing.”

  “No, I had to lay a little groundwork first, take care of some business.”

  “More important than finding me?”

  He lost the smile. “No. I’ve known where you were all the time. When I came to stay, you were the reason I took the apartment at The Oaks.

  “I spooked around at first, afraid you might recognize me. But you didn’t seem to see me or, apparently, any other guys. You obviously were not looking for any action.

  “After our paths crossed a couple of times and you acted like I was invisible, I tried to get your attention. Meanwhile, I had to get this job nailed down.”

  “What business did you have to take care of?”

  “Well,” he grinned, “I did some shopping, stopped by the courthouse, checked on some things.”

  “The courthouse? That reminds me, the FBI is still looking for you.”

  “For whom?”

  “For Bo.”

  “What’s the charge?”

  She started to speak, then hesitated. “I see what you mean. There's no charge.” She gazed out at the traffic. “Alex...Bo? It’s strange to talk to you...at least, your talking back is strange.” She hesitated, getting her bearings. “Can it ever be the same for us? Can we be those people here?”

  He regarded her tenderly. “If we can’t, we’ll go back there. Those days with you at the cabin got me on track. I’d been free falling for years--no goals, no interest in anything, until you.”

  He pulled up at a stop light. “You came waltzing into my life and did a quick spit and polish on my soul. You ignited things in me, feelings other people described that I thought I’d never experience.”

  He smiled at her as if he were trying to convey meaning and appreciation and more, before he reached for her knee. She shifted to avoid his touch while attempting a smile.

  The light changed. He pressed the accelerator and continued talking. “I had to be with you. That need drove me. I finished my dissertation, prepped for orals, and got this job all in less than two months. Thoughts of you propelled me like rocket fuel. I went nearly crazy at first wanting to see your face, to touch you.” He changed to the slow lane, studying her. “But before I could do that, I needed to set things up for us so I could provide a life we could live together.”

  He pulled into the same parking place he had vacated earlier, got out and hurried around the car to open her door. He paused to rummage through the papers strewn in the back seat until he turned up one he sought, then folded and pocketed it before taking her arm to cross the street.

  Sara glanced at her car. “I need to call the service station, get them to come fix my...”

  “Battery cable’s loose. I’ll tighten it. Your car’s fine.”

  Sara stared at him, then stopped to confront him as they stepped onto the opposite curb.

  “I staged it,” he confessed quietly, grimacing as he looked at her. “I had to...Sara.” He hesitated. “Sara,” he laughed, repeating her name. “I love your name. Sara.” He seemed to drift in and out of memory as he scanned her, tip to toe.

  “I had to get back in your life, but I needed to test the water, so I watched you.

  He flashed a taunting smile. “I saw you with Rezabec. You were circumspect, curious, cautious. You didn’t look all that interested, which was fine with me. Just fine.”

  She studied him, noting the familiar mannerisms, the way he cocked his head, the way his hands moved, graceful for their size...all confirming that he was who he said he was.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “right now all you need to decide is, your place or mine?”

  “Mine’s furnished.”

  He grinned. �
��I’ve got a bed but not much more than that.”

  Her eyes shot to his face. “I am not going to bed with you either place.” His laugh stung, and anger snapped inside her like electric sparks. “You think I’m easy, right?” .

  His rolling chuckle swelled to a loud guffaw as Sara turned and walked briskly through the door into the apartment building, biting her lips, fighting the smile, relieved to know that he was behind her, teasing her, vexing her as he had even as a mute.

  Trailing her, his residual laughter dwindled. They both were silent as they by-passed the elevator and trotted up the stairs to the third floor.

  Alex took the key from her hand when she was too unsteady to hit the keyhole in two attempts, then it took him another two shots to hit the mark.

  He opened the door and mumbled, “...a little nervous.”

  Inside, Sara felt self-conscious again, as if he were a stranger. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No thanks.” He stood quietly watching her move around the room without taking off her wraps and deliberately avoiding the small hallway to the bedrooms.

  “Sara?” He spoke quietly and she whirled to face him. “Would you mind if I took off my coat?” He grinned innocently.

  Annoyed with herself, she took his overcoat and hung it in the entry closet, then took hers off and hung it beside his. With exaggerated attention, she brushed a piece of lint from the front of her corduroy skirt.

  He slipped a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, produced a pen and eyed the couch. “Come on, sit down a minute, help me fill out this application.”

  Sara eased onto the couch, settling near but not right beside him. “What’s it for?”

  He smoothed the creases in the folded page, placing it so she could read the heading. Startled, she turned to stare at his face. “An application for a marriage license? Who’s it for?”

  He smiled into her eyes without speaking and she dropped her gaze. “Bo...Alex...oh, drat.” She shot him another look. “See, it’s obvious, we aren’t ready for this. I don’t even know who you are.”

  His eyes held hers. “Oh, yes, Sara, you know me. And yes, we are ready for this. Both of us.” She stared at him incredulously. “It’s the right thing to do, sweetheart. I’ve loved you all my life, years before I found you tied to the side of my cabin. We have more in common than you can even imagine, and now that I can talk, I can tell you.”

  She looked at him sharply. “And what about that? What was wrong? Why didn’t you talk to me then?”

  “I was researching, trying different handicaps. You came along while I was a mute. I’d taken a vow of silence, promised myself not to speak a word for six months. It was very enlightening, especially after you showed up. That was when the deprivation really kicked in.

  “I came close to breaking my word because I wanted so badly to say your name. Sara. It’s a beautiful name. I’ll bet I’ve said it a thousand times since I left the mountains.”

  “When did your six months of self-imposed silence end?”

  “The day before we went to the Johnsons that last time.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me then?”

  “I didn’t want to upset you. Earlier, we communicated just fine without my talking. When things got complicated at the last, I figured my talking might make a tense situation worse.”

  She grimaced comically. “Are you trying to say I talked enough for both of us?”

  He laughed and gave one quick, familiar nod. “You seemed to read my mind, even with most of my face hidden.”

  “And what about all that hair?”

  “If you want to be an outcast, you have to alienate yourself, make yourself so repugnant, nosy neighbors are repulsed or scared of you. Hell, I tried to frighten you too. Why do you think I staked you outside that first night? It wasn’t stupidity. I wanted to scare you off. But you just kept coming.”

  “Why didn’t you take me to the road that first day like I asked you to?”

  “First, because I didn’t want Cappy or Franklin getting hold of you again. They would have, if I’d set you down by a road anywhere close. My motorcycle needed work. I was afraid I couldn't take you far enough to keep you out of their hands.

  “After I got my machine running right,” he looked apologetic, “well, I had been out there a long time and you were so damned pretty...” He let the thought die and swallowed, apparently remembering something else.

  “I had all kinds of ulterior motives for keeping you. I liked looking at you. I hadn’t realized how lonely I was. You are a beautiful woman, Sara, and I’d been up there two years.”

  So Krisp had been right--partially. Sara started to interrupt but Bo held up a hand to prevent it.

  “Part of your beauty is that you aren’t just the usual sexy dolly, posing, letting guys admire her. Your face exposes your every thought. If you’re confused, your forehead wrinkles and you squint, like now. When you’re mad, your mouth pinches on the ends and you scowl. When you’re sad, your bottom lip protrudes ever so slightly. You are completely transparent, if a guy’s paying attention.” He snorted a laugh. “And I was definitely paying attention.”

  “The face I like best, of course, is you turned on. When you get hot, honey, you light up the sky. Man...” He took her hand in both of his and smiled, gazing deep into her eyes.

  Embarrassed, Sara looked away then tried to change the subject. “I could have gotten away on my own, but I was less afraid of you than of those simpletons in Settlement, and all the other wildlife haunting the woods. Things scared me so much, I was willing to wait for someone to come, and...”

  “What?”

  She grinned self consciously. “At first, I thought Bo was old and...well...basically harmless, maybe a little eccentric, but I liked looking at his legs in those leather breeches. Besides, it didn’t take me long to figure out he needed a friend--me, or someone. But, Alex...ah...Bo...” She winced. “Which name am I suppose to call you?”

  “Whichever’s easiest. I liked ‘Bo’ better, coming from you. It's more familiar.” Casually, he put his hand on her thigh. She shifted, moving away from him.

  “Maybe a little too familiar,” she said.

  He fisted his hand. “Why are you blushing? Don’t be skittish with me. I’m the same guy I was at the cabin.”

  “That was Bo. He...you...didn’t look like this at the cabin.”

  “What? I never expected you to say ‘Hair makes the man.’”

  “But I thought he was...” She hesitated, her face twisting and looked at the floor. “I felt close to him, you know. To you, I mean. Well, I thought he...you...Bo was like the Phantom of the Opera, scarred and kind of crazy, but wonderful with me, always taking care of me, watching out for me...”

  His face softened. “I guess we’ll just have to start over again, work our way back to where we were.”

  She risked a look at him. “I had no idea he would be so... I mean his face, that is, your face...” She groaned. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

  He shook his head, obviously unclear about what she was trying to tell him.

  She bit her lips and tried again. “At first I thought Bo was old.”

  “Don’t say ‘Bo,’ say ‘you.’”

  “I can’t, don’t you see? You aren’t Bo to me. Let me tell you this my way and then see if you can help me figure out how to make Bo and Alex be one person.”

  She stood and turned studying him. “I didn’t realize it before, but a voice makes a huge difference in figuring someone’s age. At first Bo looked stooped like an old man. And he snarled and grunted like a curmudgeon.

  “Also I assumed Bo was hiding something hideously disfiguring under all that hair. I’ve always prided myself on being a fair person, democratic, able to overlook physical imperfections, concern myself more with the nature and the the soul of a person. Naturally, after we were together a while, I felt generous toward Bo. He was so good to me, how could I feel anything but grateful?”

  Al
ex coughed and his expression reflected sympathetic approval. “Those first few days, it took every bit of will power Bo had to keep his hands off you, did you know that?”

  She gave him a bewildered look. “You’re kidding. He made me sleep in his bed and didn’t touch me...inappropriately.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Every bit of will power he had.”

  “Is that why he disappeared that Saturday night when he made me take a bath?”

  He nodded, grinning. “Had to ride all night long. Oh, he knew a woman or two who could’ve helped take the edge off his need, but you were the only woman he wanted.”

  “And the first time I tried to make biscuits and he put his arms around me.”

  “And he left for several hours again. Remember?”

  She gave him a pained smile. “I thought I didn’t appeal to him.”

  Alex rolled his head back and laughed at the ceiling. “He’d picked up on your vibes and your verbal suggestions that your prior sexual experiences had not been satisfactory. He wanted you to take the initiative. Waiting was hell. He kept maneuvering you into situations where you could make a move on him, but you didn’t.”

  “Like making me sleep in his bed?”

  “For all the good it did.”

  She drew a deep, uneven breath. “Meanwhile, my plan was to brace myself so I wouldn’t show any alarm when I saw whatever Bo was hiding under all that hair.

  “Of course, when he took off his bearskin coat that first day, I realized he was not stooped, but I still wasn’t ready for the shock when he waded out of the river that night leading the mule with little Lutie Johnson on top of it. His clothes were plastered against him and his muscles were flexing and...” She sighed with the memory. “He was magnificent. That’s when I realized he wasn’t old at all. I wanted to touch him to see if he was real but, of course, I couldn’t do that.”

  He gave her another sympathetic smile. “Of course not.”

  She regarded him oddly. He was allowing her--even encouraging her--to make observations as if he were someone else. This was weird, still she felt more comfortable than she had.

  “Anyway, lying in the shed at night, I thought of him, even when I tried to put him out of my mind. Instead of thinking of ways to escape, I wondered about the man’s self-imposed solitude. I was even more curious about what or who had made him run from life.”