Part 33 (1/2)
Shelby's face bloomed the moment she realized it was Eli ringing the doorbell. ”I'm glad you came by,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.
”I am too.”
”I had a wonderful time the other night.” Shelby thought of the way they had ended their date in Eli's truck; how he had leaned over and asked if he could kiss her before Watson beat him to it; how incredible it felt to be held by someone, instead of doing the holding.
”Good. Since I came by to propose, and all.”
”To . . . what what?”
Eli grinned. ”I figured after your aversion to first dates, you might not be crazy about second ones either. So I thought maybe we'd just skip ahead.”
”Maybe we should jump to our silver anniversary,” Shelby said. ”Play it safe.”
”All right by me,” Eli replied, and amazingly, Shelby thought he was only half-joking. She imagined sitting next to him, doing absolutely nothing, because they had spent years together doing it all and now could fill the s.p.a.ces simply with each other's company. She thought of what a bed would feel like when it was not empty on the other side.
”Can I get you something?” Shelby asked. ”A cold drink?”
”Ross.”
Her face fell. ”Oh. You came to talk to him.”
The uncomfortable moment was interrupted by the boisterous arrival of Watson, who pounced through the open door and between them. ”I told you to stay in the truck,” Eli said, trying in vain to grab the dog's collar.
”It's okay.” Shelby watched the bloodhound begin to case her parlor and move into the living room. Watson stopped, turned toward Shelby, and gave an enthusiastic swipe of his tail-which managed to send a candy dish, a television remote, and several books off of the coffee table. Eli and Shelby both ran forward to pick up the mess. ”I'm sorry-”
”Don't be-”
”-He's a pain in the a.s.s, sometimes-”
”-No worse than a nine-year-old boy, believe me.”
As Shelby examined the crystal candy bowl for hairline fractures, Eli collected the books, which had splayed open on the carpet. One was a coffee table pictorial of Vermont. The other was a sc.r.a.pbook. Curious, Eli flipped through the pages. ”What's this?”
Shelby read over his shoulder, her cheeks pink with embarra.s.sment as Eli skimmed the stories she went back to time and time again. On the page he'd opened, there was an article about a six-year-old boy bitten by a shark off the coast of Florida. His leg had been severed and successfully reattached, but the blood loss had put him into a coma. After weeks of a.s.suming the boy was brain-dead, he'd awakened just as good as new.
The most recent article involved a Canadian toddler who'd wandered out of his house and had fallen asleep in a six-foot drift of snow. ”I remember this one,” Eli said. ”He was p.r.o.nounced dead, and brought to the hospital-”
”And the doctors gradually warmed him up and he came back to life.” Shelby took the sc.r.a.pbook from him. ”It's stupid, I know, but I keep track. I clip stories where death turns out to not be . . . well, so final. Maybe one day someone will clip a story about Ethan for the same reason.”
Suddenly Ross came pounding down the stairs, his hair still wet from a shower. ”I thought I heard your voice,” he said to Eli, as Watson did his best to leap into his arms. ”How'd it go with Pike?”
But Eli was still riveted by the story of the Canadian toddler. ”The doctor's from McGill,” he said. ”That's right over the border in Montreal. The family must be nearby. Shelby, come with me?”
She did not consider Ethan, or her job, or her brother. She didn't consider the logistics of staying overnight with a man she'd gone out with only once. And she didn't wonder why, spontaneously, Eli seemed as interested in near-death experiences as she was. All Shelby knew was that when you are given the chance to meet a miracle, you do not think twice.
From the Burlington Free Press Burlington Free Press: Burlington, VT - Dr. Thomas Smalley, president of the University of Vermont, announced plans to rename the Beaumont Biology Library and the Pike Museum of Anthropological History. ”The University of Vermont wants to make clear that the ideas espoused by these professors during Vermont's eugenics studies were theirs alone, and did not represent the views of the university community as a whole,” said Smalley, in a written statement. Potential new names for these buildings are under review by the Alumni Committee.
When Eli was a boy, he had been certain that state boundaries and the equator were lines drawn on the ground, just like on a map. ”The first time my mother took me to Canada, I asked her to pull over so I could see it,” he told Shelby.
”You must have been disappointed.”
”Nope.” He grinned, thinking back. ”She took a piece of chalk out of the glove compartment, and started drawing. Said that all the car tires on the highway must have rubbed it right off.”
”And you believed her?”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. ”I think people believe what they need to, don't you?”
”I suppose you can't be a cop unless you're cynical.”
”Not true. We continue to be amazed every day.”
He pulled the truck into a highway motel, one just over the city line of Montreal, according to the map. Avec HBO Avec HBO, promised a billboard.
They had made it to Canada in record time. However, it was nearly 8 P.M. P.M.-which meant that Eli would not be seeing Dr. Holessandro until the following day. ”Sorry it's not the Ritz,” Eli apologized. ”But the Ritz doesn't take dogs.”
”I hope you were referring to Watson. And don't worry on my account. I'd be just as happy camping out in the flatbed.”
The thought of Shelby pressed against him from toe to shoulder in the rear of his truck was enough to make Eli suddenly as hard as a rock. He got out of the rig, turned away, and adjusted his jeans. Shelby followed him into the office of the motel, where a boy with a green mohawk was playing Scrabble against himself. ”Do you speak French?” she asked Eli.
”Nothing to worry about.” As Eli walked up to the desk, the boy made no effort to even look at him. ”h.e.l.lo.” He rolled his eyes. ”Bonjour.”
”Bonjour,” the boy said, smirking at Eli and Shelby-and their lack of luggage. ”Vous desirez une chambre?”
Shelby opened her mouth and stepped forward. ”I'll take care of this,” Eli said. ”Oui, deux deux chambres, s'il vous plait. chambres, s'il vous plait.”
The boy looked at Shelby, and then back at Eli. ”Deux? Vous-etes sur?”
”Oui,” Eli said.
The boy raised a brow. ”Et Madame? Elle est sure aussi?”
”Bon, d'accord. Avez-vous des chambres ou non?”
”Oui, oui . . . ne vous fachez pas. D'abord, j'ai besoin d'une carte de credit . . .” Eli slapped his MasterCard on the counter. ”Voila les clefs pour les chambres 40 and 42.”
”Merci.”
”Ou, preferez-vous plus de distance entre les chambres? Deux etages differents peut-etre . . . ?”
”Non, ca va comme ca.” Eli grabbed Shelby by the arm and pulled her toward the front door. ”Bonne nuit, alors . . .” the clerk called after them, laughing.
Outside, Eli made a beeline for his truck. If his d.i.c.k had been hard before they'd gone into the motel, by now he could be the body double for a jackhammer. ”Eli-”
”I want to get the dog. You know what they say about leaving animals in cars . . .”
”Eli!” Shelby planted her hands on her hips in the middle of the parking lot. ”G.o.ddammit, listen to me!”
He turned slowly, exhaling heavily. ”What.”