Read Online Listening to Dust by Brandon Shire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brandon Shire
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Parisian train spotting for Robbie. I don’t think I told you that before.
The only thing I understood at that moment was that if I had tried to defend my comment with an argument about how beauty could be admired without being possessed, you would never have believed me. But in showing you, in walking the galleries which held pieces I admired, in that action you spoke of, you understood, and I will never forget how you turned with a whispered thank you before you kissed me there in the public eye.
So I guess we were both right, and both wrong about actions and words.
Like the two of us, one is empty without the other.
I love you,
Stephen
Chapter 12
The Diner
Robbie looked up and behind Stephen as the diner suddenly went quiet and the bell above the front door jingled to announce that it had been opened. A big grin broke out on his face. “I’ll be...”
Stephen turned to see Miss Emily in the doorway surveying the crowd, her cane firm in her hand and her eye as sharp as the tongue she held. No one said a single word until Robbie jumped up and went to the door, where he promptly put his arm out for her aid. “We’re right over here, Miss Emily.”
“I can see that, Robbie. Stop fussing,” she said as she took his arm and allowed him to escort her to the table. She was slim, and the granddaughter of a woman that had lived and understood what the War of Northern Aggression had really been about; and even if she wasn’t a local girl, that heritage all but made her royalty among the local woman, and they damn well knew it.
She sat with some relief and studied Stephen as she took off her gloves, watching him over the rim of her glasses as the buzz in the place piled up around her presence. She sneered slightly when the waitress approached, ordered sweet iced tea, and then dismissed the girl with her hand. Stephen immediately took note of the gracious composure in her rebuff, and the cold confidence of her immediate command of the room. Dustin’s appraisal of her was right on the mark and came straight to mind. Miss Emily was no fawning Southern nitwit like you saw in the movies. You would do what Miss Emily wanted, and you would like it, without ever realizing how she had maneuvered you into doing her wishes.
When she took her eyes off of him, Stephen watched all the harshness evaporate as she turned to Robbie. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Robbie?” she scolded him mildly.
“Oh, I sure am sorry, Miss Emily. I was just so surprised to see you here, I...” he stumbled and blushed before he continued. “Well, anyway. Mr. Stephen, this is Miss Emily. Miss Emily this is Mr. Stephen. He’s from U-rope.”
“I know where he’s from, Robbie. Thank you.”
She cocked her head to the side to look at Stephen closely, shooing off the waitress a second time when her iced tea was put on the table. They had seen each other in the foyer of the courthouse and Stephen had no doubt that she had assessed everything from that single glance, rather than her current appraisal.
“You’re a long way from home,” she said to Stephen.
Stephen nodded, feeling somewhat intimidated. But he knew this woman; knew of her bloodline and knew that she held more secrets and more lives in her head than most men would feel comfortable with. He was also aware that this was the woman that Dustin had run to after Stewart had cut him from the eaves of the barn. She had enough power and held enough secrets that, after she had dragged Dustin to the hospital, she had hushed up the entire incident at Dustin’s pleading insistence.
“He’s from U-rope,” Robbie stated again as Stephen and Miss Emily studied each other.
“Hush now, Robbie. Finish your food before it gets cold,” she told him automatically.
“Yes, ma’am,” Robbie said as he picked up his fork. “She ain’t so mean as folks think,” Robbie whispered across the table to Stephen.
The only thing I understood at that moment was that if I had tried to defend my comment with an argument about how beauty could be admired without being possessed, you would never have believed me. But in showing you, in walking the galleries which held pieces I admired, in that action you spoke of, you understood, and I will never forget how you turned with a whispered thank you before you kissed me there in the public eye.
So I guess we were both right, and both wrong about actions and words.
Like the two of us, one is empty without the other.
I love you,
Stephen
Chapter 12
The Diner
Robbie looked up and behind Stephen as the diner suddenly went quiet and the bell above the front door jingled to announce that it had been opened. A big grin broke out on his face. “I’ll be...”
Stephen turned to see Miss Emily in the doorway surveying the crowd, her cane firm in her hand and her eye as sharp as the tongue she held. No one said a single word until Robbie jumped up and went to the door, where he promptly put his arm out for her aid. “We’re right over here, Miss Emily.”
“I can see that, Robbie. Stop fussing,” she said as she took his arm and allowed him to escort her to the table. She was slim, and the granddaughter of a woman that had lived and understood what the War of Northern Aggression had really been about; and even if she wasn’t a local girl, that heritage all but made her royalty among the local woman, and they damn well knew it.
She sat with some relief and studied Stephen as she took off her gloves, watching him over the rim of her glasses as the buzz in the place piled up around her presence. She sneered slightly when the waitress approached, ordered sweet iced tea, and then dismissed the girl with her hand. Stephen immediately took note of the gracious composure in her rebuff, and the cold confidence of her immediate command of the room. Dustin’s appraisal of her was right on the mark and came straight to mind. Miss Emily was no fawning Southern nitwit like you saw in the movies. You would do what Miss Emily wanted, and you would like it, without ever realizing how she had maneuvered you into doing her wishes.
When she took her eyes off of him, Stephen watched all the harshness evaporate as she turned to Robbie. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Robbie?” she scolded him mildly.
“Oh, I sure am sorry, Miss Emily. I was just so surprised to see you here, I...” he stumbled and blushed before he continued. “Well, anyway. Mr. Stephen, this is Miss Emily. Miss Emily this is Mr. Stephen. He’s from U-rope.”
“I know where he’s from, Robbie. Thank you.”
She cocked her head to the side to look at Stephen closely, shooing off the waitress a second time when her iced tea was put on the table. They had seen each other in the foyer of the courthouse and Stephen had no doubt that she had assessed everything from that single glance, rather than her current appraisal.
“You’re a long way from home,” she said to Stephen.
Stephen nodded, feeling somewhat intimidated. But he knew this woman; knew of her bloodline and knew that she held more secrets and more lives in her head than most men would feel comfortable with. He was also aware that this was the woman that Dustin had run to after Stewart had cut him from the eaves of the barn. She had enough power and held enough secrets that, after she had dragged Dustin to the hospital, she had hushed up the entire incident at Dustin’s pleading insistence.
“He’s from U-rope,” Robbie stated again as Stephen and Miss Emily studied each other.
“Hush now, Robbie. Finish your food before it gets cold,” she told him automatically.
“Yes, ma’am,” Robbie said as he picked up his fork. “She ain’t so mean as folks think,” Robbie whispered across the table to Stephen.
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