The Heart Heist (14 page)

"That's okay." Gary lifted his hand. "I get the picture. And I'll think about your advice -- if it's still your advice?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"It's still my advice," Kerrin replied, her voice croaking.

It occurred to her as he strode out of the library, the sun gilding him briefly as he passed through the door, that Gary Sullivan might not be the worst male role model she'd ever seen.

Who else did she know, after all, who was honoring an agreement that would put him back in prison? Gary could have been in Mexico ten times over by now. He was loyal to his friends and he was protective of those weaker than himself. He had the respect of twenty-five teenagers and that was no mean feat.

Of course, Kerrin had seen better role models. But, excepting her father, she couldn't come up with a single one, and she spent the rest of the afternoon trying.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It wasn't yet seven on Saturday morning, the sun was only just cresting the Panamint mountains in the east, but Gary was not happily snoozing in bed, as he'd planned. Instead, yawning and with a severe craving for coffee, he was squatting beside a stream of water about the temperature of a witch's teat. As if that weren't bad enough, he'd just been informed by the red-haired kid seated to his side that he was expected to wade right into the stuff.

"Damn." Matt concentrated on a length of tangled nylon string. "This got knotted up somehow." His fingers worked quickly on the knots.

Gary yawned again and breathed in deeply of the fresh mountain air. It sure was beautiful here, he had to admit, physically tranquilizing. All the same, he'd rather have been in bed. Saturday and Sunday were the only two days he had a chance to sleep late -- or much at all. But when Matt had asked him if he'd like to go fishing, Gary had found himself mysteriously unable to refuse.

He'd come up to the Horton house yesterday afternoon, ostensibly to work out with Matt's weights. As a matter of fact, he'd secretly hoped to get a glimpse of Kerrin. Sheer masochism. Since their conversation in the library she hadn't been avoiding him quite as much as she would an ax murderer. No, now it was only as if Gary had one of those highly communicable diseases his class group was going to teach about.

Matt had let him in the front door and while they were talking in the living room, Gary had got that glimpse he'd been wanting. He might as well have stayed in town. Kerrin had come wandering in with a faraway expression on her face, the kind she wore when he peeked into her office and her nose was in a book. "Anyone seen my glasses?" she'd asked, stalking the corners of the room in a vague way. Off-hand she'd noticed Gary. "Oh, hi there. Hmm. They must be in my room somewhere, then." And off she'd wandered down the hall, as though Gary's presence was about as important as one of the lampshades.

Matt had looked after her. "I've seen her do that with her glasses right here." He'd held out his hand as if it were gripping a pair of spectacles. "Come on, the weights are in the garage."

Sheer frustration had lent Gary strength and he'd bench-pressed enough to amaze the kid for life. As he was getting ready to leave, rubbing his neck and chest with a towel, Matt had asked if he fished. Gary had never fished in his life; he'd never been that close to a wild stream. But there'd been something in the kid's eyes, such an innocent desire to please, that he'd impulsively agreed. Sure, he'd go fishing, if Matt didn't mind taking out a rank amateur.

Matt didn't mind. In fact, he seemed gratified to be the one doing the teaching for a change. "Okay," he said now, pleased he'd succeeded in untangling the lines. "This rod is for you." He handed one of the lightweight rods to Gary.

Gary accepted the rod with trepidation. "I hope you're not going to tell me I have to stick some poor worm on the end of this hook."

Matt looked horrified. "God no. This is dry fly fishing, Gary. Live bait -- " He paused as though unsure how to make his denunciation strong enough. "That's for
wusses
."

"Pardon me."

Matt tied the fly, which Gary was relieved to note was artificial, onto Gary's hook and explained the basic principles of casting. It was a matter of trying to trick the fish into thinking the collection of feathers on the end of your hook was a live insect.

"Now that's what I use." Matt pointed to the inner tube contraption Gary had hauled to the stream from the car. "I brought a pair of my dad's waders for you."

While Gary was fitting his legs into the plastic overalls of the waders, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Matt maneuvered himself into the inner tube that bobbed at the edge of the stream. The kid had a lot of upper body strength and a natural agility. Still, it took effort on Gary's part not to try helping.

Matt, ensconced in his inner tube and floating on the surface of the stream, looked back at Gary, who was tying knots to shorten the length of the shoulder straps on the waders.

Gary grinned wryly at him. "Your Dad must be about a foot taller than I am."

"Funny, you don't seem that short."

There was a peculiar implication in the statement that knocked against the unfamiliar inner nerve that Matt and his sister kept hitting. Gary hastily turned to pick up his rod. Instead of dwelling on that nerve or what it signified, he recalled his meeting with Matt's father this morning when he'd come to pick the kid up. Tom Horton was tall all right, and Gary had seen immediately where Kerrin got her faraway, abstracted expression. But there'd also been intelligence in the man's light brown eyes. For a moment it had sparked out crystal clear as he'd taken Gary's measure. Gary supposed it was natural for a father to want to check out his son's companions, but he couldn't shake the feeling there'd been more to Horton's close scrutiny than that.

"I still don't understand what the cowboy hat is for," Gary said as he cautiously stepped into the moving water and balanced that unusual piece of equipment on his head.

Matt snickered. "You will. Start casting and every once in a while you miscalculate. The hook comes right for the nape of your neck."

"I think I get it."

With a little instruction from Matt, Gary was soon casting with respectable skill. They fished for an hour or so in a companionable manner, talking a little, chuckling a little. The silence of the countryside, the gentle rush of the stream, the pure clear smells started to work magic on Gary. A bone-deep relaxation stole over him.

Matt maneuvered himself with athletic ease between rocks and boulders as they worked their way upstream. True, the kid had a lot of power in those arms and pecs of his, but Gary caught an impression sometimes he was getting a little help...from down below. Yes, once or twice he could have sworn he'd seen Matt push off the bottom with a trailing leg.

But Gary shook his mental head. It must have been an illusion created by the water. Nobody in his right mind would be sitting in a wheelchair if he didn't have to.

"Say, Gary," Matt said, frowning as he played with his line. "I got a...question."

Sensing diffidence, Gary kept his gaze on his own line. "Shoot."

"This isn't easy." Matt's voice got lower. "Dammit."

Gary ventured a quick glance downward. "This have to do with the class?"

"Sort of," Matt slowly admitted. "I...want to be excused from class next week," he finished in a rush.

For next week Gary had promised the class they were going to talk about sex -- the real thing and not according to the charts and diagrams Kerrin had in her prude little lesson plan. The kids, Gary had felt looking out at them one morning, needed the straight story, not a bunch of interesting, but irrelevant, scientific data.

But Matt, apparently, did not want quite so much honesty.

"Would it help," Gary now asked, "if I split up the guys from the girls?" It had occurred to him this might create a more comfortable situation.

Matt squirmed. "Not much. See, I already get...unwanted curiosity."

"Oh." Gary wasn't sure what Matt meant, but he couldn't have excused him from class even if he did. During summer school no more than one absence was allowed in order to get credit.

"Aw, hell, Gary." Matt squirmed some more. "I can just see it coming, the speculation. About me. That part of my body, whether or not it works."

Oh
. Feeling scared suddenly, Gary raised an eyebrow and looked straight at Matt. "Does it?"

"Hell." Looking like he wanted to be sick, Matt stared into the brush edging the stream. But he answered. "I think so."

Relaxing, Gary suppressed a smile. "You
think
so?" He threw out his line, reducing his scrutiny of the boy while inside he felt a wave of relief. This was just embarrassment, that was all. "Don't you think you'd better find out for sure?"

Gary could feel Matt give him a quizzical glance. "Like, how?"

Swallowing a laugh, Gary explained calmly. "You know. The usual way."

"Oh." Fortunately, Matt knew what he meant. But he gave Gary a highly suspicious look. "Grown men don't do that -- do they?"

"Mmmmm." Gary bit his tongue until he was sure it must have started bleeding. Then he thought of five years worth of lonely nights and he didn't feel quite so much like laughing. "You better believe they do," he admitted.

"Oh." Matt's gaze in Gary's direction went speculative before he turned to take care of his line. His mouth twisted. "Not that it'd make any difference. It's not like any girl'd look at me."

Gary's brows came down. Beyond the raw pain in the kid's voice was something else, something very strange.

Trust.

My God
, Gary thought, staring at him,
he looks up to me
. The realization shivered along his deep, unused nerve. It threatened to blossom into something wholly novel.

He cleared his throat and threw out his line. He knew he didn't deserve the kid's trust, but he wasn't ready to give it up yet, either. "I wouldn't be so hasty to come to that conclusion, if I were you."

Matt's voice was bitter. "What girl would want to have anything to do with a guy who can't walk?"

"Matt -- " Gary paused to consider his words. "Women see sex completely different from the way men do. You can't judge what'll turn them on based on the things that turn you on."

Matt glanced up. "What do you mean?"

Gary let out a breath. "No man has really solved that mystery, but my own personal observation is that a woman's far more concerned with how a man treats her and how he makes her feel than anything else."

Matt made a snorting sound. "Sure."

"Well, it's possible that rule doesn't hold when you're sixteen years old," Gary admitted. "But you'll grow out of sixteen-year-old girls." He grinned. "They're a lot more interesting when they're older, anyhow."

Staring at his rod, Matt appeared to consider this advice with due incredulity. Then he switched his gaze to Gary. He waited until Gary was pulling back for an overhead cast to speak again.

"Say Gary, do you like my sister, Kerrin?"

Gary's leader went straight into the trees arching over the stream.

"Wait a sec," Matt told him, peering at the hook now stuck among the branches. "I can probably get that out for you." Lifting his rod, he poked it into the tree leaves overhead.

In chagrined silence, Gary watched Matt free his line.

As the line fell from the tree, Matt looked up into Gary's set face. "Yeah." He flashed a brilliant grin. "That's what I thought."

Gary gave him the sort of glare he reserved for the worst of the cons in his cell block, for when he felt most threatened.

"Yes, I know." Matt sighed. He cast out his own line with equanimity, despite Gary's expert glare. "It's none of my business. It's just...I don't know when Kerrin's going to get another chance with a guy like you. I mean," Matt hastened to add while turning a little red in the face, "it's not as if she doesn't have any chances at all. Uh, she's had boyfriends, sort of, and like that."

Gary watched as Matt swished his leader across the shady spot where he'd tossed it. A very strange and unexpected realization dawned on him. "A guy," he repeated carefully, "like me. What does that mean?"

Matt concentrated on the shady eddy under the brush. "You know, a real man, a regular guy." He smirked. "Not like that wuss, Victor Bothmann last winter."

Gary's stomach twisted first one way, then the other. It was true! Gary could hardly believe it. Matt had brought the matter up because he
approved
of him as a suitor for his sister -- not to warn him off. Then his stomach twisted the other way as he asked, "Who is Victor Bothmann?"

Matt reeled in his line. "This guy who came to stay with us last January. Harvard professor or research assistant or something like that. A total...well, wuss. There's no other word to describe him."

A Harvard professor
. Gary's stomach twisted further. "And he and Kerrin...?"

"Nah." Matt shook his head. "Frankly, I don't even think Dr. Bothmann likes girls. You see, that's what I mean. Out in the boondocks here Kerrin doesn't get a chance to meet, er, you know, guys. Real guys."

Gary raised an eyebrow, willing for the moment to believe Dr. Bothmann from Harvard was gay. More than willing. But then he had to shake his head. What did it matter? "You're right," he told Matt tightly, "it is none of your business." He shot out his line with a vengeance, wondering how Matt would alter his opinion if he knew where Gary usually lived. "Besides, your sister thinks I'm another species of bacteria."

Matt watched Gary reel in his line. He refrained, Gary was relieved, from scolding him about trying to throw too far. "Now we're agreed it's none of my business," the kid carefully admitted. "And one of the last things a guy wants to do is spill his sister's secrets..."

He let his voice trail off and Gary's curiosity got the better of him. He turned to look down at Kerrin's brother. Who, he wondered, was the actual fish here?

Matt looked back up at him with a peculiar half smile. "The truth is, Kerrin's crazy about you."

Crazy
? Oh yeah, Gary thought he knew who was crazy. Suppressing the urge to guffaw, he gave Matt's statement as much attention as it deserved, turning to cast another line.