A Different Blue(107)

I thought St. Patrick was just an Irish leprechaun. I'd never even thought about him as an

actual person. Or an actual saint. It was just a holiday.

[page]“So, how old were you when you discovered St. Patrick?” I teased.

“Twelve! He was bloody twelve!” Tiffa bellowed from the backseat, making everyone laugh.

“When Darcy was born, he was wearing a tiny little bow tie and braces.”

“Braces?” I giggled.

“Suspenders,” Wilson supplied dryly.

“He has always been an absolute geek,” Tiffa chortled. “That, my dear Blue, is why he's

brilliant. And wonderful.”

“Don't try to be nice to me now, Tiff,” Wilson smiled, catching her gaze in his rear view

mirror.

“All right. I won't. Did you know he was going to be a doctor, Blue?”

“Tiffa!” Wilson moaned.

“Yes . . . actually. I did know that.” I patted Wilson's shoulder.

“He wasn't cut out for it. He would have been completely miserable. Dad saw how brilliant Darcy

was and just assumed that meant he should be a 'man of medicine' like he was, and his father

before him, and his father before him. But Darcy was brilliant in all the ways that had nothing

to do with science, right luv?”

Wilson just sighed and shook his head.

“Darcy always had his nose in a book. He used enormous words and used them correctly . . . at

least I think he did. He loved history, literature, poetry.”

“Have you heard him quote Dante?” I interrupted.

Wilson's eyes shot to mine.

“What was that lovely poem you shared with us . . . about harpies?” I questioned.

Wilson chuckled at the memory and quoted the lines obediently.

Tiffa moaned, “That's awful!”

“I thought so, too,” I laughed. “I couldn't forget it, though. I ended up carving 'Bird

Woman' as a result.”

“That's what inspired 'Bird Woman?'” Wilson asked, astonishment coloring his voice.

“Your history lessons seemed to find their way into my carvings more often than not.”

“How many? How many carvings were inspired by my history class?”

“Counting 'The Arc?'” I counted them in my head. “Ten. Tiffa bought a couple of them the

first time she came to the cafe.”

Tiffa and Wilson seemed stunned, and the car was quiet for the first time since we'd set out. I

fidgeted uncomfortably, not sure what the silence meant.

“Blue!” I should have known Tiffa would find her tongue first. “Blue, I have to see all of

them. We should do something big, a big display with all of the pieces together. It would be

brilliant!”

My cheeks flushed and I looked down at my hands, not wanting to get excited over something that

hadn't even happened. “Some of them I sold at the cafe, but you are welcome to see the rest.”

“Darcy can die a happy man now,” Tiffa added after a moment. “His teaching has inspired art.

” She leaned up and hoisted herself over the seat and kissed Wilson's cheek with a loud smack

of her lips.

“Actually. For once, Tiffa is absolutely right. That might be the best compliment anyone has

ever paid me.” Wilson smiled at me. Warmth pooled inside me, and the baby kicked in response.

“I saw that! The baby kicked!” Tiffa was still hanging over the front seat and she laid her