Page 32 of Reaching Little Robyn

“You’re definitely a man after my heart.” The moment the words left her mouth, she blushed scarlet. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“I’m not sorry in the least,” he said. “It’s true after all.”

Could it be, really? They’d spent what? A few hours together and none of those could be considered normal encounters. Was it even possible that despite her disbelief that the universe would drop a cock in her lap…. Robyn closed her eyes and shook her head. What the hell was happening to her, to her nice little calm life where the only things she’d had to worry about was what color to paint the walls and how many throw pillows might be considered too many by her future guests? When she opened her eyes, it was to find the cause of all her inner turmoil smiling down at her.

“Relax, little bird. I’m a patient man. I’m not going to jump you. You let me know when and if you’re ready to take this beyond friendship. Okay?”

Could it really be that simple? Robyn hoped so because she was tired of trying to convince herself to run in the opposite direction when all she really wanted to do was run toward thiscowboy. There was really only one way to find out if this pull was meant to be or not.

“Okay.”

He’d said he wasn’t much of a cook, but he obviously knew how to make a good pot of coffee. He stood in front of her open shelving examining her cups and saucers before choosing one that had a small robin sitting on a branch. Filling it, he set it down before her. “Know what I’d like to know, little bird?”

“What?”

“Are you a masochist?”

If he’d asked her if she was a serial killer, she didn’t think she would have been as shocked at the question.

“For someone who just said it was up to me about friendship or more, that’s a pretty invasive question.”

To her surprise, he laughed which had her about to tell him where he could shove it.

“No, little bird. I didn’t mean it in a sexual way. I meant that while you constantly tell me you have an aversion to your name and to mine, you’ve surrounded yourself with birds. You don’t use numbers for your rooms, you use the names of birds. You don’t just have vintage teacups, you’ve chosen ones with birds on them. You have books about how to identify birds and binoculars on your window sill. They are on the pillows on your couch and chairs. The salt and pepper shakers on your guests’ tables are all things birdy. Every sampler on your walls has at least one variety of bird in it, even the antique ones.”

Her mouth dropped open. What sort of man roamed around another’s house and noticed such things? He’d actually stopped at each sampler she’d stitched or purchased and there had to be at least two dozen throughout the house. And really? Who noticed salt and pepper shakers of all things?

“You must think I’m nuts.”

“Not at all, I think you’re adorable. I just wish you’d realize that enjoying your feathered friends and embracing the love your parents offered in their choosing of your name, doesn’t make you weak or strange. I think you’ll find life a little easier to navigate when you realize that those kids who bullied you aren’t half as blessed as you are. You have a family who loves you, you have found your niche in this wild, crazy world, and have friends here who’d gladly go to battle in your defense without ever asking why.”

She felt tears welling, but not ones of anger. He was right. She was twenty-six, not six. She’d met other people with names that had them cringing and yet they’d been good people. Rose Bush, Sandy Beach, Candy Kane, and Fig Newton were but a few. Every single one of those people were not only kind and good people, they met whatever life threw at them with a smile on their face and a knowledge that behind every cloud was a silver lining. When he knelt beside her and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear, she shook her head.

“Don’t cry, baby bird.”

“I’m not, well, I am but not because I’m hurt or sad. I guess I’m just relieved that you aren’t judging me, not on my name, but on how silly and obstinate I can be. You honestly find my name cute, though I guess with a name like yours, I should have known you understand more than most.”

“I don’t find you silly at all. Obstinate, yes, but I’ve never wanted a milquetoast partner. A little brattiness keeps life interesting and a Daddy on his toes.”

His words had the power to make hope run through her. She just needed to trust him… to trust herself. Taking a deep breath, she took a leap of faith.

“I want you to know that it’s not you that had me running from the cafeteria. It was when I heard you say the word ‘rooster’.” When she paused, unsure if she could really continue,he seemed to sense it. He rose and scooped her up, turning to take her seat with her now on his lap.

“I’ve got you, little bird.”

And she truly believed he did. “When I was in the fifth grade, my teacher, Mrs. Smith, assigned each of us in my class a subject we had to do a report on. They were supposed to teach us about nature and how food and things don’t just show up wrapped in plastic or in cartons on grocery store shelves. My subject was chickens and eggs. Raven got bees and honey but wouldn’t trade with me even when I offered to do her share of the household chores for an entire month. Anyway, I did the research and wrote the report and turned it in. It was only then that I learned our teacher was going to make us read them aloud. I was a little shy, but when Raven gave hers and did so well, I thought I’d be okay.” She paused again and he didn’t press her to continue, simply rubbed his hand over her arm as he held her.

“When my turn came, it went okay at first. Then I made a mistake and instead of saying that if a farmer wanted his hens to have chicks and not just lay eggs, there had to be a rooster involved… I-I said there had to be a cock involved. That-that’s just how the farmer I interviewed kept referring to his roosters, I never meant to repeat the word.” She darted a glance up, waiting for him to laugh, but he looked at her with kindness.

“I’m thinking that didn’t go over very well? Especially not if there were any prepubescent, hormonal boys in the class?”

“You think right. It was awful. Even Mrs. Smith laughed before she told everyone to settle down and for me to continue. I wanted to die and was shaking so hard I could barely read the words on the report in my hands. But when Raven turned around and told the class to shut up, which instantly got her in trouble, I knew I had to finish. I raced through the rest of the report and thought that was it. But it wasn’t. It never really ended. For years I’d pass someone in the hall and they’d snickeror make comments like, ‘Watch out and cover your rooster if she kicks you in the nuts,’ or ‘How’s your rooster hangin’?’ and then they’d throw back their heads and crow like a-a?—”

“Rooster,” he said, his arms tightening around her. “Robyn, I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine having to go through something like that.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and there are other things that are worse. No one ever hit me or anything.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head up until their eyes met. “It’s not okay. Yes, kids can be cruel little shits, but there is a line where cruelty turns into trauma even if it’s not physical. I know that wasn’t easy for you to share, but I appreciate you being brave enough to tell me. If it helps, you can call me Winston if you’d rather.”

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