Page 33 of Mornings By the Linden Tree
Lennon, who had been staring at the menu as if there were a scorpion hiding in the side dishes section, looked over at the dolls and then at me.
I laid my menu down beside a fat candle flickering gently inside a round glass holder. “That is a good question. I suspect it’s because the people who made the dolls have yet to fully grasp that there are other shades of people walking this earth besides milk.”
“I would like some brown dolls. Like me and you.” She pointed at me with the female doll and returned to playing by using her napkin as a blanket for the two doll children.
“I would like some brown dolls as well,” I mumbled as I added a note to my mental list to find some dolls for Valeria that reflected her. I glanced at Lennon, who was back to staring at the menu while nibbling at his lower lip with white teeth. It was quite the sexy look. Demure and unsure. Totally the opposite of the man who I was getting to know rather well. “Do you not see anything you like?”
Blue eyes flickered from the menu to me. “Oh no, that’s not it. I’m not sure I took out enough cash at the ATM before we left Boston.”
Ah. “No need to worry over that. I asked you along on this trip, and so it is only fair I pay for your meals.”
“I can cover my own meals,” he replied quickly. “I just need to find an ATM on the island.”
“There are a few I know of. Let me cover this bill tonight, and you can pay for dinner tomorrow night. How does that sound?”
He nodded and thumbed some hair from his face. “Good. That sounds good.”
I gave him a smile. While I had not had to worry about the price of a meal out for many years, I clearly recalled being so poor as a child that I survived for weeks on nothing but a jar of peanut butter. No bread. No jam. Just peanut butter. The adults in my life were too busy being high to feed me properly. I snapped back from the past when the server arrived to ask if we were ready to order. I got Valeria a plate of spaghetti with two fat meatballs and ordered my usual Purple Egret meal. Lennon ordered the fresh flounder with steak fries.
I then sat back to enjoy the ambiance as well as the guitarist seated by the bar playing classical Spanish songs on a six-string. He had a pleasing voice but nothing in comparison to Lennon’s. Of course, I could be biased. Still, I might have a word with the manager when I go to wash my hands. After all, the more exposure Lennon got, the more chances he had of breakingout of busking in the Common to cover his rent. Set in my convictions, I fell into a conversation with the man across from me about a certain party for a certain person who was going to be one year older soon.
“Is it me that is being four soon?” Valeria asked just as a basket of breadsticks arrived.
“It’s me. I’m going to be four soon,” Lennon joked, which made Valeria and me giggle. The rest of the meal was lovely, the food divine, and the company more than pleasant. Valeria was well behaved, enjoyed her dish of ice cream while we had coffee and cheesecake, and then drifted off with her head resting on the table. I carried her home as the sun dropped from sight. The lights of the boats on the marina made a pretty picture as we neared the cottage.
Once inside, I headed for the peach bedroom. Lennon called softly to me from the foyer as he toed off his sandals.
“Perhaps you should just put her on the pullout sofa. I can sleep in the guest room.”
I paused. This fear of beds was not going to get better if we simply let her sleep anywhere like a skittish dog. Still, it was a strange home. I gave him a nod. When she was in her jammies, we tucked her in, locked all the doors, and then stood awkwardly in the hallway.
“I think I’m going to go read for a bit,” Lennon whispered before reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Unless you had something else in mind for us to do?”
With the gentle song of the sea floating in the windows and his invitation on the breeze, what else could I do but speak my truth?
“As much as I would love to take you to my bed, I think it would be best if we were not caught in an embarrassing situation when she wakes up scared.”
“Yeah, sure, I should have…never mind. I was being pushy and not thinking about her welfare.”
I stepped closer so our chests touched. Then I cupped his cheek, enjoying the feel of his gold whiskers on my palm.
“Someday soon,” I whispered, a promise I planned to keep even if the mere thought of falling even more for this glorious young man scared me half to death. I stole a kiss. He sighed into it and then backed up. “Someday very soon.”
“I will hold you to that. Goodnight, Wes.”
“Goodnight, Lennon.” I stood in the hall until his door closed, and then I went outside to watch the moon rise over the sea with the brush of his kiss tingling on my lips.
Chapter Thirteen
That Saturday was the Fourth, so we spent most of it on the beach, enjoying the boats and horns and splashing about in the warm waves. Lennon was a magnet it seemed, or perhaps a Pied Piper of sorts, for no matter where he was, children seemed to gravitate to him. And he didn’t even have his guitar. There was just something about him. I felt it as well as did several moms in skimpy swimsuits who fluttered around the epic sand castle that he and a dozen little children were building. I sat back by the end of our private boardwalk, under an umbrella, sipping on some iced tea with nothing but my toes exposed to the sun. I had successfully avoided burning my beautiful, dark skin for twenty years. Sunscreen and I were best friends. I planned to keep it that way. I had no wish to suffer with hyperpigmentation, thank you very much.
“Uncle Wes!” Valeria shuffled up, looking despondent and angry. Not the best combination. Her entire body was coated with sand. Even her lashes were sandy. She looked tired. Her shoulders were pinker than I would have liked, a sign hersunscreen needed to be reapplied. “The other kids are stealing Lennon.”
She crawled up onto me, the chaise I’d brought down to the shore creaking with her added weight. The child was filling out nicely now she had three healthy meals every day.
I smiled as I tried to brush the sand from her arms. Her pink swimsuit was damp as was her long hair.
“Sharing can be difficult sometimes,” I said, wincing as she shimmied closer, her knee digging into my thigh. “Maybe we should think about dinner.”
