Nate made the first move. Still lying on the floor, he turned to his side and reached over with his free hand to begin petting Thor’s chest. Thor responded by stepping closer and licking Nate’s face.
Harper shared a look with Dora, who had tears in her eyes, watching the young boy being tenderly soothed by the big dog. Thor seemed to read Nate’s emotions. No words were necessary. Nate, feeling the connection, kept inching closer, reaching higher up the dog’s neck. Gradually the sobs subsided to a few ragged sighs. Thor lay down beside the boy with a grunt of comfort and let Nate continue to pet him, nuzzling his face against Thor’s fur.
Harper lost track of time as she and Dora watched Thor soothe Nate. In time, after he’d settled, Nate realized that Taylor was in the room. Immediately he scowled. Nate didn’t expect to see the man there and didn’t like surprises. But as time passed and Taylor continued ignoring Nate, the boy sat up and with increasing curiosity watched Taylor play the game. Eventually, Nate rose and went to stand beside him. Taylor kept playing the game, eyes on the screen. Nate stood a few feet from Taylor for a few minutes, watching the game. Then, without speaking, he sat down beside Taylor and picked up the remote.
Taylor glanced at him, nodded noncommittally, and returned to his game.
Suddenly Nate was playing the game, too. All hysteria was gone. The silence in the room was broken now only by the beeps and noises from the game. Thor rose and padded over on thick paws to Nate’s side, where, once again, he settled beside him, resting one of his huge paws on Nate’s skinny thigh.
Dora nudged Harper and signaled that they should leave. Her final look in the room revealed the big man and the small boy playing the video game together. The boy had been calmed without a single word being spoken.
East Bay Street in Charleston is a historic road that travels beside the Cooper River along Charleston Harbor. From Market Street to Broad, some of the city’s finest restaurants are clustered. From Broad Street south to the tip of the fabled Charleston Peninsula is a treasure trove of some of the finest colonial architecture in America.
Harper and Taylor walked down the crooked sidewalks, his hand closed over hers. The sun was setting and the streetlights were beginning to glow in the balmy night. Harper wore tight navy cotton pants and an icy-blue silk top that shimmered like water. Her coppery hair fell in a sleek sheath to her shoulders, where a chunky lapis and topaz necklace ringed her neck. She’d spent a long time dressing for tonight and wanted to look sexy. Special for her first date with Taylor. And it was the first time she’d worn spiky heels in months. She grimaced as she made her way along the pitfalls of the old, crooked sidewalks. Taylor’s expression when she’d opened the front door that evening was worth the effort.
Taylor had made an effort, too. He wore a crisply ironed, gray, open-necked shirt that hung loose over dark jeans. The sleeves were rolled up his tanned forearms. On his feet he wore leather sandals, a switch from his usual work boots. He looked as fresh as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and stepping closer, she caught the faint scent of aftershave.
They were one of scores of couples strolling along the popular street, peeking in the windows of art galleries, hurrying to dinner reservations, pausing to read menus posted. As she walked beside Taylor, Harper realized, pleased, that his mama had taught him to walk on the street side with a lady. He towered over her even in her highest heels. As she regarded his handsome profile, her heel twisted in a rut of a cracked sidewalk. With a yelp, she stumbled into Taylor’s side. His reflexes were lightning fast. His arm shot out and he caught her, holding her steady.
Harper’s cheeks flamed. This was the second time she’d stumbled. He probably thought she was a klutz. “Thank you,” she gasped, regaining her footing.
“That’s what happens when you walk in stilts.” He grinned wryly. “Maybe you’d better keep a hold on me. It’s just ahead.”
She gratefully held on to his arm with two hands and took careful steps as they walked the half block to where a black sign over a door read EAST BAY MEETING HOUSE. The street-side folding doors were wide-open, and small bistro tables overflowed onto the sidewalk. Inside, it was very French. Bistro chairs and tables clustered between tall, drape-lined windows on the left and a classic wooden bar on the right. It was almost eight o’clock and the tables were nearly filled. Taylor grabbed the last table. Within minutes, it was standing room only.
Taylor raised his hand. A young, pretty waitress hurried over and took their order for drinks.
Harper looked around the cozy restaurant, let her hand run along the crisp cotton tablecloth, and thought, I’ve missed this. Going out, mingling with crowds, the excitement of a performance, sitting across the table from a handsome man. He turned his head and caught her looking at him. She blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Popular place,” she said over the buzz of the crowded room.
“Lots of poets in Charleston.” Taylor leaned closer to be heard. “But tonight’s special. Marjory Wentworth, the South Carolina poet laureate, is reading from her new book of poems.”
“Are you reading?”
“Sure am. We each get six minutes.”
“Aren’t you nervous?”
“Of course. But I don’t scare easy.” He shrugged. “Once I get up there, I lose the fear and get into the words.”
Harper gazed at him, wondering what that kind of courage felt like. Her toes curled in her shoes at just the thought of someone reading her writing, much less standing up in front of strangers and reading it aloud to strangers.
The waitress delivered her white wine and his beer. Harper took a sip, tasted its sweetness, and almost purred. “This is the first glass of wine I’ve had since June.”
Taylor swallowed his beer and looked at her with wonder. “You don’t drink?”
“My sisters and I made a pact not to drink for a week, just to see if we could. At first it was torture, I confess. I like my glass of wine at night. Then we just kept it up. After a while I stopped missing it.” She sipped again, then smiled devilishly. “Until now.”
“How’s it taste?”
“Delicious.” She set her glass on the table and her fingers idly stroked the chilled glass as she let her gaze wander out to the street. The night was deepening and the candles glowed on the tables. People walked past, chatting, laughing. “Charleston is so alive in the evening. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve come to the city since I’ve been here. I wonder if that was wise. It’s lovely.”