Harry relaxed and Dean sighed with relief.
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of us,” Harry said. “You came out of nowhere. Are you out jogging or something?”
“In a bow tie?” Dean added.
“No, I’m not jogging.”
“Then what’s the hurry?” Harry asked.
“I’m not in a hurry. Why? Was I moving quickly?” I suddenly realized I was somewhat breathless. “Perhaps I was moving at a lively pace, yes, but I assure you, I’m in no hurry to meet someone.”
“You’re meeting someone?” Harry smiled.
“That’s not what I said.”
“At Aunt Bea’s?” Dean asked. Given the fact that we were standing at the point where the two paths joined and became theonlypath that led to Bea’s, it was pretty obvious exactly where I was going.
“Okay, yes. I’m meeting someone at Aunt Bea’s.”
“Is it a date?” Dean’s grin was pure mischief.
I stiffened. So many assumptions. So much prying. I was about to abandon ship altogether, turn around and head straight back home, when Harry patted me on the shoulder.
“You don’t have to tell us if it’s a date or not,” he said, clearly sensing my heightened anxiety. “But maybe we can walk with you. You could keep us company. Unless of course you’re still in a hurry.”
I took a breath. “I suppose… if you’d like the company… that would be fine.”
Truth be told I would have liked a little longer to rehearse my safe and in no way suggestive topics of conversation. Nonetheless, Harry and Dean might prove a nice distraction before my antipodean encounter.
Harry matched my stride for a few steps, then—without making a point of it—slowed. I slowed too. The forest made its soft evening sounds. The crickets settled into a soft drone. My pulse calmed itself.
“Breathing trick,” Harry said lightly, as if he were offering a free bookmark. “In for four, hold for four, out for six. Works a charm when the hardware delivery turns up with the wrong bolts and Old Walt starts to blame our newfangled computer system for screwing up the order. Fun fact: our newfangled computer is twelve years old, and the order forms work just fine. That’s when I say to Walt—in for four, hold for four, out for six.”
I didn’t enjoy being given random tips on making it through life—I thought I was doing just fine—but perhaps it wouldn’t go astray tonight. I did as he instructed. The air smelled like pine needles. By the third breath my shoulders had lowered a fraction.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded. Instead of thanking him, I felt the need to explain. “I was not rushing. I suppose I was just a little distracted. I had no intention of hurrying.”
“Of course not,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around me like a thick blanket before pulling away. Everyone in town knew how much I hated casual contact. I guess protective Harry just couldn’t help himself. “You were just making good time,” he said.
We walked. Gravel whispered underfoot. Dean let the silence sit for a few moments, then offered a thread I could either pick up or ignore.
“So, tell us, what’s your latest recommendation? Books, I mean. I need something to read on Harry’s porch.”
Ah. Blessed relief. A question I could answer without squirming. I straightened my bow tie.
“Well, that depends what you’re after. Do you like historical novels? I could recommendThe Illusionist’s Daughter, which manages to balance sleight-of-hand with the Siege of Paris in a manner I found both magical and unexpectedly moving. Or perhaps a crime novel?Murder on Millstone Bridgeis satisfyingly twisty and set just far enough away from here that you won’t be begging Harry to add more deadlocks to your door. Or—if you’re in the mood for something more contemplative—The House at the Edge of the Lake. That one requires patience, but the prose is like water smoothing stones. Sublime.”
Dean whistled. “Wow. You had those loaded and ready to go.”
“Books aren’t bullets,” I said, bristling. “They don’t destroy things. Quite the opposite, they create in us a thousand lives we’d never dare to live. They lend us courage we don’t possess, kindness we sometimes forget, and companions we didn’t know we needed. If that’s not art of the highest order, I don’t know what is.”
Harry smiled. “That’s our Brooks. He may be blunt at times, but he’s got a knack for making you see things in a whole new light.”
Up ahead, the twinkling festoon lights draping the outside ofAunt Bea’s Barnyard Barflickered through the trees, while the happy sounds of people laughing and chatting drifted on the breeze, along with Bea’s favorite records playing on the jukebox.
The three of us walked in together before I paused nervously just inside the doorway, scanning the faces in the room.
