Sweet Soul (Sweet Home #5)(24)
Elsie’s shoulders were tight and strained, until they dropped. She turned again, fingers fidgeting at her sides.
Lowering myself down to sit on the bed, I said, “Talk to me a while.”
Alarm spread on Elsie’s face and she shook her head vigorously, pressing her hand to her lips. Her wide blue eyes implored me to understand.
“You don’t talk,” I ventured, hoping it would calm her down. She looked to the door, then back to me. I could see she was about to bolt.
Standing up, I kept my distance, but asked, “How do you communicate with people?”
Elsie mimed using paper and pen. Moving to my desk, I took out a fresh pad of paper and a pen, and held them out. Elsie looked to them like they were gold. Another piece of my heart broke for her at that moment.
I didn’t speak to folk because I was crippled with shyness. I couldn’t imagine what it was like not to be able to talk.
Elsie took the paper and pen, and dipped her head. I knew she was thanking me. I slowly moved back to my bed and sat down. I pointed at the spot beside me, feeling nervous shivers running down my spine.
Elsie rocked on her feet, then she stepped forward, walking painstakingly slowly to where I was sitting. As she sat down beside me, clutching the paper and pen to her chest, the smell of coconuts drifted past my nose.
“You smell nice,” I blurted, then shook my head at how stupid that sounded. Feeling my face set alight, I mumbled, “I mean your hair or whatever you used to wash with, smells nice. Of coconuts or whatever…” I trailed off and ran a hand down my face. “Sorry,” I said without looking up. “I’m not real good with talking to girls. To anyone.”
I kept my focus down as silence followed. Then to my shock, a warm hand covered my hand. My eyes snapped up in time to witness Elsie’s mouth curling up into a smile. The smile was like a hammer blow to my stomach.
Elsie released her hand to write on the paper. As she wrote, the tip of her tongue rested on her upper lip in concentration. I didn’t know why, but I thought it was the cutest thing I’d ever seen in my life.
Elsie lowered the pen, then turned the paper for me to read. My eyes scanned the perfect cursive words. “I’m not good with talking either.”
Relief ran through me, and I met Elsie’s eyes. “We’re similar.” Elsie fixed her focus on the rosary beads still in my hands and began writing again.
I waited to see what she would say. She eventually turned the page for me to view. “I’m sorry for taking your wallet. I didn’t know the beads were in there, or the picture. I would never have taken them if I’d known. I had seen you drive in to the college in a nice car and thought you would have cash.” She took the pad back, scribbled something else down, and showed it to me. “I discarded your wallet when it had no cash, but I kept hold of the rosary. Something made me keep it safe.” I went to speak when she held up her hand and wrote something else. This time her expression turned to embarrassment and she wrote, “I don’t deserve all you have done for me.”
Elsie was still staring at the page. Placing my hand over her writing, I forced her to look up. “Yeah, I kinda think you do.”
Elsie blinked and her blue eyes grew glossy. Pain sliced through my stomach at seeing her so vulnerable. I wasn’t good with words, wasn’t good with comforting people.
Changing the subject, I asked, “You couldn’t sleep tonight?”
Elsie shrugged, but I could see there was something more from the expression on her face. My finger traced the textured pattern on the comforter and I prompted, “Why?”
Elsie hesitated to write on the paper, but eventually she did. I waited, drinking in the scent of her newly-washed hair. It was so light and long. Her skin was bright and she looked good. Real good.
My admiration was interrupted when Elsie turned the paper for me to read. As I read her words, sadness filled my heart. “I don’t like the dark. I hate silence. I woke up and the room was too dark, too unfamiliar and too quiet… I was afraid. Bad thoughts come into my head at night, when there’s no light.”
I briefly closed my eyes, and nodded my head. “Yeah,” I rasped. “I used to feel like that when we moved in this place too.” I motioned around the pool house. “I wasn’t brought up in anything like this. We were poor back in Bama, real poor. And we lived in a real bad area. I hated the dark because where I’m from bad things happened in the dark.”
As I finished speaking, my eyebrows pulled down in surprise. I’d never told anyone that much about my past. Ever.
When I looked at Elsie, I could see the confusion and surprise etched on her face. I shrugged, feeling my cheeks flush. “All this, this house. It’s Austin’s, my brother’s. He plays for the Seahawks. He saved us.”
Elsie’s face was almost comical when I told her who Austin played for. Hating that what I had said made her uncomfortable, an idea came to my head.
Jumping to my feet, I nervously walked to my desk. Seeing the mason jar that held my pens, I tipped it upside down and turned back to Elsie. “When I grew up in Bama, and we had no money to pay for electricity, my mamma used to have a trick to light the trailer.” I laughed thinking of those old memories and shook my head. “Now, we’re in Seattle, so things aren’t quite the same as being back in Tuscaloosa.” I glanced to Elsie and I huffed a quiet laugh at seeing her head tipped to the side and her pretty face wearing a mask of confusion.