All I Ever Wanted(91)

“I fell off a swing when I was six.”

“Let’s run with the pirate story, shall we?” I grinned and leaned my head against his shoulder. “So tell me about your childhood and all the places you lived,” I suggested.

Ian glanced at me. “Right. Um…well, I mentioned my mother and brother, right?”

“Yep. Alejandro. That’s fun to say.”

He nodded. “Actually, he’s not really my brother. He’s my cousin. And Jane is my aunt. My parents died in a small plane accident when I was eight.”

“Oh, Ian,” I said, sobering instantly. “I’m so sorry! You poor thing!”

“Well, it was…hard. But Jane took me in. I’d only met her once before, and Alejandro is nine years older than I am. Jane…she did her best, dealing with her brother’s kid while doing her work.”

“Doctors Without Borders?”

“Basically, yes. She’s a plastic surgeon. Fixes cleft palates and stuff like that. Alé is also a doctor.”

“Are you guys close?”

He hesitated. “In some ways,” he answered carefully.

“Why didn’t you live with your uncle here in Georgebury?” I asked.

Ian nodded. “I would’ve liked to, but he was an alcoholic. Nice man, but not someone who could raise a kid.”

There was a story there, I was sure. I was also sure Ian didn’t want to go into it. Not now, anyway. “How’s your family?” he asked, changing the subject and confirming my suspicions.

“They’re good,” I answered, slipping my hand into his. “Bronte, my thirteen-year-old niece, is pressuring my sister, a man-hater, to get married, so Hester’s dating the mortician at our funeral home. My other niece wants to be Lady Gaga when she grows up. My parents may hate each other, may love each other, depending on the day. My brother smokes pot, gets laid and has no ambition, and I found my grandfather in the tub with his girlfriend last week.”

Ian grinned, thrilling me, cheap date that I was. “Speaking of your grandfather,” he said, “There’s a museum down in Greenledge, do you know it?”

“Oh, sure. All of us Vermont kids get dragged there in fifth grade. The American Craftsman place?”

He nodded. “They’re doing a show on David Morelock. I bought tickets to the opening. Thought we could go with your grandfather.”

I looked up at him, my mouth opening slowly. “Ian…thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“No…thank you! This… Noah will be…you know what? You’re getting laid. Right now, mister.”

“Well, if you insist,” he said, and with that, he pulled me close and slid his hands under my fleece coat, and though it was cold and started to rain halfway through, we managed to stay quite warm. Quite warm indeed.

“SO YOU’RE DATING HER,” Noah said a few days later. We were having an early dinner before heading to the David Morelock retrospective.

“Yes, sir,” Ian replied.

“Honorable intentions and all that crap?”

“Noah,” Jody chided. She’d been a frequent guest around here lately.

Ian said nothing, just looked at me. His eyes crinkled a little, and my girl parts gave a happy squeeze. How many hours ’til bedtime? Betty Boop wondered. Too many, I answered.

“Just treat her right,” Noah instructed, pointing at Ian with his fork. “And no kissing in front of me. This is my house. I have rules, young man.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “I have rules, too, and they include not using my bathroom.”

“You never use that tub,” Noah said, glancing at Jody with a little smile.

“And now I never will,” I answered.

Jody laughed. “We should probably get going, don’t you think? Ian, what time does the show open?”

“Seven,” Ian answered. He looked at me. “Thank you for dinner, Callie.”

I smiled, reached out with my foot to touch his leg. Oops. Got Noah’s prosthetic instead, shifted to the left…there. Ian didn’t get too many home-cooked meals. I was hoping to change that.

LIKE SO MANY MUSEUMS, the Museum of the American Craftsman had a still and sacred quality about it. In the large foyer, a huge black-and-white photo of Mr. Morelock was on display, his lined face intent as he hand-planed a piece of wood. Thank you again for my chair, I said silently, a lump in my throat. I hope you can see how much it still means to me.

Glancing at Noah, I saw his face was somber. “Well,” he said, not looking at me. “Jody and I will wander off, then. See you two young people in an hour?”

“Sure, Noah,” I said. I reached out and put my hand on his arm, and he gave my hand a squeeze.

“This was a nice idea,” he said gruffly, nodding to Ian.

“My pleasure,” Ian replied.

We watched them go, Jody’s hand on Noah’s elbow, Noah using a cane, for once. “I’m glad he’s with Jody,” I said quietly. “He doesn’t have a lot of friends left anymore.”

“How old is he?” Ian asked.

“Eighty-four,” I answered, that melancholy tightness still clamping my throat.

“He really loves you,” Ian said.