Hands On (14 page)

“Aside from your crumbled abode,” Lara quipped, “which will be fixed up much better than new, this is actually a lovely neighborhood. Darlene was right about that, at least. So. What’s this about your having a boyfriend? Harry, right? I was afraid of this.”

“You did warn me. But he’s just…he’s it, Lara. He’s the one.”

“Oh, no.” Lara stopped walking and turned to face Ginnie. “He’s still a workaholic who doesn’t want a relationship. Right? Has that changed?”

Ginnie remained silent. He hadn’t even been there when she’d woken up.

“I didn’t think it had. He’s emotionally unavailable. He won’t change, and you can’t make him. Oh, babe, don’t look like that.” Lara appeared pained. “Maybe I’m wrong. I probably am. Look at the specimens I’ve got sniffing after me.” She nodded toward Ginnie’s backyard, coaxing a smile.

“Speaking of specimens, I had a bigger prize than Golden Showers come after me last night,” Ginnie said. “My ex dropped by and tried to drag me home with him!”

Lara’s shocked astonishment was gratifying. Ginnie told the story, finishing with, “And then Harry got all protective in front of me and told Rick, ‘Get in your car, drive away, and don’t come back.’ It was so romantic.” Ginnie felt all melty, remembering.

“You have it bad.” Lara was grave. “You need to get your mind off Harry. Sure we can’t double-date some cute construction workers? Some fun surveyor dudes, or sizzling-hot electricians?” She looked at the men buzzing around Ginnie’s house-in-progress, then back to her hopefully. “C’mon, it’ll be good for you.”

Privately Ginnie was convinced Lara just wanted the excuse to sample the workers, like trying on new clothes. She was clearly man-crazy. Maybe even too eager. It seemed odd she’d have to be, considering how pretty, likeable and vivacious Lara was.

Ginnie said, “With my new job, I’m not going to have time for any man. Oh, I forgot to tell you!” She beamed with delight, happily sharing the good news of her new position as a freelance puppeteer. “It’s a fraction of the pay, but I’m already so much happier. Doing puppet shows for kids, challenged kids and mentally handicapped adults is the kind of thing I’ve always wanted to do. So gratifying. I have The Frog Prince and some private birthday parties to do, but the first big school auditorium show is next month.”

“Yeah? That’s fabulous! Open to the public? Maybe I’ll bring a date,” Lara said, once more eyeing the workers.

“Go for it,” Ginnie said, even as Lara excused herself to go talk to a shirtless roofer.

Maybe Harry would want to come. The thought made her heartbeat speed up. It wasn’t completely the excitement of being around him, though that alone was plenty to get her blood pumping.

It was the idea of him choosing to be a part of her life. Supporting her. Feeling proud of her.

Accepting her—unconditionally.

Seeing him in the audience, interacting with the kids, grinning and laughing at the marionette’s antics… Harry, whole and healed and accepting her as she was. It was a thought to bring tears to her eyes.

Their physical relationship was compelling enough, even astonishing, but there was more to Harry, something that made her heart warm and seem to expand whenever she thought of meeting his gaze or being touched by those clever hands of his. She’d never known anyone else like him.

Ginnie ached with longing. Was it too good to be true?

Chapter Eight

Ginnie adjusted the amplification during intermission. She checked the microphone positions, the lighting and, lastly, the music queue. Wouldn’t do to launch into a Fang, the Too-Long-Tooth Chipmunk set with the soundtrack to Pokem Bellies.

She’d performed singly before. A one-woman show was nothing new to her.

But this… She had to admit she was worried.

She paced behind her portable ten-by-ten stage, resisting the urge to again peek through the crack in the heavy velvet curtains at the children seated on the blanket in front. She was afraid she’d see the apathetic, drooling face of the birthday boy still staring at a space on the ground in front of him.

What had she been thinking? To believe she was ready to go freelance even part of the time, performing for a specialty audience that probably required ten times her level of experience?

She’d kicked off the birthday show with Pinocchio, the most famous marionette of all time, telling lies until his nose grew so long it popped his own birthday balloon (she’d inserted a small needle at nose-end, just to make sure of the effect). The show was supposed to proceed with Pinocchio going from child to child until one of them gave him a replacement balloon, at which point the generous child was rewarded with ten larger balloons.

A fun show, with a valuable lesson for the kids to remember.

Only, these kids had reacted badly to Pinocchio’s nose. When he approached them for a balloon, they ran screaming. It became clear they were afraid of being impaled by the balloon-killing needle nose. Ginnie was forced to cut the set short and give every child extra balloons, just to calm them.

The Pokem Bellies starred The Pokem Brothers, who never, ever laughed. They didn’t know how. The two marionettes discovered their ability to laugh when one accidentally poked the other in the belly. Soon they were poking each other in the belly, evoking more and more laughter, and then they invited audience participation. At least that set had gone over well. The birthday boy had smiled vaguely, and the soundtrack had others boogying in their spots and slapping the ground when they weren’t poking each other in the belly.

She had to wow them in the last act.

Ginnie started the music for The Magic Show. Three puppets contended for the prize of being voted the best magician. First, The Fat Lady ambled out, taking up much of the stage. At a drum roll, she blew bubbles out of her ear.

Ginnie heard one or two people clap.

Swallowing nervously, she manipulated the second marionette onto the stage. John the Tall proved he could make a coin disappear from a glass, using only a handkerchief and a piece of colored construction paper.

Only one person clapped. Ginnie was pretty sure it was the birthday boy’s mom.

Feeling the sickening moistness of flop sweat on her upper lip, Ginnie trotted out the last contestant, Little Jeffrey. The likeable freckled marionette waited for the drum roll, then opened his chest to remove a large speckled jellybean!

Nobody clapped.

Nobody.

Ginnie walked the marionette forward with numbed fingers.

Little Jeffrey held out the jellybean to the birthday boy, who took it indifferently, put it into his mouth and chewed. He immediately made a face and spat it out.

Enough of a professional not to react, Ginnie simply ran through the rest of the set, getting the three puppets on stage all at once for the birthday boy to vote for the one with the best magic trick.

“Is it…The Fat Lady?” Ginnie dragged the large puppet ponderously back and forth.

Silence.

She picked up the strings for John the Tall. “How about…John the Tall?”

Silence.

Ginnie’s heart plunged. This was a total disaster.

Still, the show had to go on.

“Then, it must be…Little Jeffrey and his jellybean trick!”

The birthday boy scuffed a shoe against the other. It was enough.

“Little Jeffrey it is! The winner and all-time Abracadabra champ! Yay!” Ginnie made the marionette boogie his way from the stage, reminded suddenly of Harry dancing his puppet with hers. Back when she’d thought she was a good puppeteer, a solid performer.

A vast despair filled her. She’d bombed.

“Excuse me?”

Ginnie turned, trying to paste a smile on her face. The mother of the birthday boy stood before her. Probably wanted to ask for her money back, Ginnie thought, and who could blame her?

She’d brought the little guy with her, Ginnie noticed. He hid half behind his mother’s khaki-covered leg, half of one small fist crammed in his mouth.

“Hi there,” Ginnie said to him.

The mother cleared her throat.

“I know,” Ginnie began. “Let me just go get your original check—”

“Pokem Bellies,” said the birthday boy.

The mother startled Ginnie by whirling and sinking to her knees before him. “Oh, honey.”

Ginnie stared, confused.

“Pokem Bellies, Pokem Bellies.” He poked himself in the belly and looked pleased with himself.

The mother looked up. Tears ran down her face. “He’s never spoken before. Not actual words. He’s finally… I never thought he’d…” She raised her hands to her face, wiped her eyes. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“Oh.” Ginnie got it. “He’s never said anything before? At all?”

“No.” The look of pure joy the mother turned on her made Ginnie feel strange. Giddy.

She hadn’t been a flop after all.

“You’re welcome,” she said feelingly. “I’m so very, very glad for you.”

The mother suddenly enveloped her in a hug. “Your show is a miracle. You’re a miracle.”

Affection for this caring woman suffused Ginnie. If only she could have as sweet and emotional a mother. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad the show helped.”

“It’s wonderful. I’m going to tell everyone in the Portland chapter of Challenged Learning to give you a call.”

After the woman and her son walked away, Ginnie stared after them for a moment. The exhilaration she felt wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while, she knew. “I’m a miracle,” she said softly to herself. Suddenly she boogied, much like her puppet had earlier. Fists clenched, eyes shut, gyrating wildly in a victory dance of one.

That done, Ginnie broke down the ten-by-ten stage, then packed and loaded up her Volkswagen.

She felt like celebrating, and she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather share her good news with than Harry. She’d make him dinner again. She smiled, remembering what had happened later in the evening the last time she’d cooked for him.

Then the smile slid from her face.

If only her mother weren’t flying in to see her in a few days, her life would be pretty close to perfect.

“You’re cooking again.”

Ginnie looked up from where she stirred the wine cream sauce into the perfectly sautéed shrimps and scallops. Harry’s expression, like his voice, was neutral.

She was struck again with how handsome he was.

“Hi, stranger.” She continued stirring, dancing a little to the rhythmic beat of one of Harry’s CDs. “Have a nice business trip?”

“It was illuminating.” He looked at her. “What’s the occasion?”

“I wanted to celebrate.”

Harry didn’t offer her a hug, or a smile, but he did move a little closer to the bar stools lining up against the far counter. It put him almost within reach. “You seem happy,” he stated.

She grinned. “I am happy.” She told him about the puppet show. “And the woman hugged me, Harry. She said I was a miracle.” Astonished and delighted anew at the memory, Ginnie almost forgot to add the shallots. “I wanted to thank you for your help. If it wasn’t for your advice, I never would have thought to do shows on my own.”

“I never advised you to do that.”

“That’s what I mean. You gave me your prudent, sensible advice. You told me to be careful and start small. So, I did the opposite.” Ginnie smiled at him. “I couldn’t be happier, and it’s all because of your advice.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, then moved toward the liquor cabinet.

“We’re having Pinot Gris with dinner,” she told him.

“That’s nice. I’m having scotch now.” He pulled out a couple of glasses. “Want one?”

She shrugged. “Sure.” She tapped the wooden spoon, set it between the gas burners and plucked the filled glass from his hand. “To new beginnings.”

He looked at her, then he finished his with three swallows. She sipped from her own glass, admiring his strong neck, defined chest and broad shoulders. He wore a delightfully snug knit shirt. Cashmere, probably. Something that begged to be stroked.

Much like she had the night before. She smiled a secret smile, gazing boldly into his eyes.

“Smells good in here,” he said suddenly, moving away from her. Toward the source of the scent. Then back to the counter, where he stood as if uncomfortable. And back to the stove. “Nice,” he said, poking the wooden spoon at some shrimp.

Then back to the counter.

“Ginnie, I’m glad you’re happy. I got you something,” he said suddenly. “When I was on the business trip.”

Ginnie stared at him as if he’d turned into someone else. In a way, he had. Harry seemed awkward. Uncomfortable. And he’d brought her a gift? “Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked him.

“Nothing.” He didn’t quite smile. “Stay here,” he commanded, and left the kitchen.

“Not going anywhere,” she told the air where he’d stood.

Or was she going somewhere?

Ginnie frowned. She knocked back the rest of her scotch. Harry was the most confusing, opaque, and, yes, handsome and heroic man she’d ever spent time with. But she didn’t understand him at all. They were so very different.

What did she have to offer him, besides the food and fun angle? And he’d said he didn’t want a relationship. She kept forgetting. It was so easy to forget, with all the relationship-type activity going on.

He probably hadn’t forgotten, though. His gift was probably to say good-bye. A jewelry memento, maybe, or something practical for her repaired rental, like a cordless drill. Maybe a rice cooker.

Ginnie opened the chilled wine, poured, tasted. It was good, she decided as she finished the glass and poured a fresh one. It would numb the expected hurt. She prepared the plates, no longer enjoying the meal’s delicate scent. She lit the single, tapered candle, unfolded her napkin in her lap and waited.

Harry returned holding a long, awkwardly paper-wrapped bundle by its top and bottom. “I wasn’t sure how to wrap this,” he confessed, holding it out, but by that time its shape told her what it was.

“Oh!” She rose, her napkin slipping to the floor. She couldn’t take her eyes off the package and reached without thinking for the wooden handle at the top of the bundle. “A marionette!”

Her heart hurt, but in an expanding, aching sort of way that brought happy tears to her eyes. “You’re actually giving me a marionette.” She held it against herself, as exhilarated as she’d been morose. “It’s not a cordless drill.”