Chapter 3

SIPPING COFFEE AND READING the morning news in the kitchen, I was interrupted by a disheveled Rory entering. She looked sleepy, her hair mussed, was still in her pajamas, and was frowning. The frown wasn’t that odd, but she always showered and made herself presentable before breakfast.

“What’s up, honey?” I asked, setting the iPad aside.

“Nothing, ” she answered grumpily. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Anything you want to make me, ” I offered, attempting to get a smile out of her. I failed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then why did you ask what’s for breakfast?” I asked.

“I dunno. Just because.”

With a silent sigh, I got up to make breakfast. Something was bothering her and, contributing to her attitude, Rory had a habit of becoming grumpy when she was too hungry.

While I prepared scrambled eggs, I saw her contemplating me with those feral, gold-flecked eyes. Toast popped. I served both of us, adding glasses of orange juice. Without a word, I sat at the table and ate. As usual, I’d wait her out.

It came with her last bite.

“I was jealous, ” she informed me.

“Ah, ” I intoned, despite not having a clue what she was talking about. With that masterful response, I sipped coffee.

“I didn’t sleep well because of it, ” she added, watching me closely.

“Mmmm-hmmm.” I waited her out again.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Why what? I know why you didn’t sleep well. You just told me. Jealousy.”

Her dark eyes narrowed dangerously. Had I gone too far?

She watched me like a cat spotting a mouse. “I was jealous of Hannah.”

That caught me off guard. “What the heck would you be jealous about? Hannah hasn’t anything on you. I mean, she’s nice, but she’s not even in your league.”

“It wasn’t her, ” she informed me, then fell silent.

Somewhat confused again, I said, “You have to help me here, honey. I’m sorta lost.”

Rory let out a loud sigh. She looked down at her plate and fiddled with her fork. “I was jealous that Hannah had all of your attention. She was hogging you.”

I laughed dismissively. “You know that’s not true. I divided my attention equally amongst all of your friends.”

“Just not me, ” Rory said softly.

My smile faded. “You have me every day, honey.” This was a new side to her I was unfamiliar with.

“It’s not enough.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Rory looked at me. “I don’t know. I don’t understand it yet.”

“So, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Rory turned her gaze to outside. I waited. And waited. And waited.

With a sigh, she eventually said, “I think ... Um ... I don’t want you to be attracted to anyone else.”

“Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.”

Pondering it, I asked, “Are you afraid you’ll lose me if I am?”

She shook her head.

I waited and watched her wrestle with herself; playing with the ends of her hair, looking through the windows, frowns coming and going.

Eventually, she sighed and said, “No. I think what I’m saying is I want you to be attracted to me.”

I was floored! My mouth fell open. I shut it. I’d never thought about Rory as anything other than my niece. I wasn’t conscious of her having romantic feelings at all. Wasn’t she too young? Yet, clearly she did, inappropriate or not. This was a very delicate situation.

Contemplating my response, I studied her as if seeing her for the first time. Her mussed dark hair, full of body, parted in the middle, fell in layered waves to just below her shoulder, glossy in the morning light. I studied her face and was shocked at what I saw. Rory wasn’t the child I’d been holding onto in my mind. Childhood had fled at some point in the last two years and a beautiful young girl was emerging; her nose aquiline, cheek bones high, her wide mouth - with the small brown beauty spot on the left - much more lush than I remembered, her skin tanned a beautiful golden bronze. In her thin lime green pajamas, I noticed the hint of her bust. Rory was a blossoming woman!

Was that it? Was it hormones raging?

Whatever it was, I’d have to be very, very careful in how I responded.

“I’m honored, Rory. Who wouldn’t be? A young lady as beautiful as you? But, I think you know it’s not appropriate. Just give it time. You’ll find some dashing young guy who’ll give you butterflies in your stomach and make your chest ache.”

Her dark eyes turned to study me openly. “What if I don’t?”

“You will. Trust me. You’ll have guys tripping over themselves to get your attention.”

“Do you think, if we weren’t related, you’d find me attractive in that way?” she asked.

It was easy to answer. “Aside from the related part and the obvious age difference, absolutely. You’re my type; pretty and smart.”

Rory smiled for the first time. Then a remarkable change came over her. Her gold-flecked eyes turned voracious, a thrilling hint of danger that spiked my pulse. Her canines appeared as her smile broadened. Gorgeous. Feline.

“You and Mom were both adopted, right?”

RORY SWEATED AS SHE washed the Boston Whaler in her bikini. Pausing to wipe her brow, she glanced at the house partially hidden by foliage. It was an odd house. Originally a small bungalow built in the early fifties, additions had been constructed over the last seventy years, none of them aesthetically consistent to the original. The house had no air conditioning except for a more modern addition on the left - the office and work lab Uncle Ethan had built to handle precious documents. In an odd way, the house was full of character.

Returning to her chore, she polished the bright work on the bow and let her mind drift. She liked cleaning the boat. It looked so pretty when it sparkled in the sun. It still amazed her that one book had funded its purchase. Uncle Ethan had named the boat after it - Lady Gutenberg.

She wasn’t sure why a moldy old bible printed in the fifteenth century would be worth so much. Ethan tried to explain that, being the first ever mass-produced book using movable metal type, the Gutenberg bible was extremely rare and, with only twelve printed on vellum and his only the fifth of those that was a complete two-volume work, made it more valuable. Why would anyone use animal skin as paper to print on? Were books really worth that much?

She didn’t care. The boat was great.

She stopped washing, grabbed the hose, and started rinsing. This morning’s conversation with Uncle Ethan had helped her grasp what was bothering her. She’d figured out what was causing the ache in her stomach and tightness in her chest. She had a crush on him. When she looked at his face, she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. She wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms, to feel his body pressed to hers; to feel desired, loved.

He’d understood, too. It was in his eyes. He’d studied her and she was sure she’d seen him recognize she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Even better, he hadn’t reacted with horror or disgust when she’d suggested she was attracted to him in that way. His response, that he was too old for her, was rubbish. What did love know about age difference? And his insistence incest was wrong didn’t hold water. They weren’t biologically related, just legally related. That wasn’t incest.