Did she miss something? One minute they were talking, the
next James shot up and began weaving toward the hitching
post in the most bizarre manner, like a child playing a game
of don't–step–on–the–cracks. But
that wasn't nearly as weird as him glancing at her and then
turning away before she had time to respond. Embarrassed. He
was embarrassed, which made her want to run after him, arms
wide–open for a big hug. And that might be a little
kooky for both of them, so best not. It was sad, however,
that he had such a low opinion of her. She may be strung out
on her own needs, but the day she became judgmental, someone
should bonk her on the head.
What had he said on the phone about "one of my more
annoying habits"? Was this goofy walk another one? Some kind
of tic, like his twitching hands? Maybe he had a muscular
problem. Okay, so now she was flat–out intrigued.
Tilly pushed up from the rocking chair and followed James
quietly.
"Hey, James." Isaac rushed toward him. "Why're you
walking funny?"
Excellent question, Angel Bug. Wouldn't mind hearing the
answer myself. Tilly stopped and made a big deal out of
scratching a no–see–um bite.
"It's a habit I have, one I can't stop," James said.
"Does that make sense?"
Bingo.
"Sure. My best friend says that when he gets into trouble
at school."
"What habits does your friend have?"
"He jumps up and down. It helps with his sensory
integration. If he bounces out his wiggles—" Isaac
demonstrated, and Tilly smiled "—he feels less buzzy.
Do you feel less buzzy when you walk funny?"
"For a moment. Then I feel worse. More buzzy."
Fascinating. Buzzy sounded more mental than muscular. So
James had some psychological thingy, like sensory
integration, that caused him to act a little doolally? Sweat
trickled down her armpits, but she didn't dare move.
"If it makes you feel worse, why do it?" Isaac said to
James.
The answer slammed into her: he doesn't have a choice.
Man, she knew how that felt, to be stuck going through the
motions, trapped in a life you were never supposed to live.
Behaving as a widow, when every instinct screamed that you
were still a wife.
James took two folded tissues from his pocket, arranged
one and then the other over his hand and bent down to pick
something. "I do it because I have to step on every other
dandelion."
"Why?"
"My brain tells me I have to." James handed Isaac the
flower.
"Can't you tell your brain you don't want to?" Isaac
chewed on the inside of his cheek, the same way he did when
working through an advanced math problem.
James tossed back his hair, twice, and laughed. Some
women would likely find him attractive. Rowena would label
him a sexy beast. The stunning eyes helped, the kilowatt
grin, that deep, warm laugh. But it was also the way he
spoke— carefully, as if he'd given life a great deal
of thought. Or maybe, like Tilly, he'd seen too much of it.
"Do you ever get hiccups?" James asked Isaac.
Isaac rolled his eyes. "Allllll the time. Especially
after eating little carrots. Yum."
"Yum indeed. Little carrots are my favorite snack.
Fortunately they don't give me hiccups, which is good,
because I get terrible hiccups. But mine are silent. No one
can hear them except me." James paused, and Isaac nodded.
James still hadn't hinted that he was aware of Tilly, but
she sensed he was talking to her, too. "You see, I have a
hiccup in my brain. My brain hiccups out the same thought,
again and again. Let's say you get this idea, to step on a
dandelion. You do it and then skip off to the hay bale. The
original thought, to step on the dandelion, has gone. But if
I have the same idea, my brain repeats the
message—step on the dandelion, step on the dandelion,"
James said in a booming, theatrical voice, and Isaac
giggled. "There's a technical name for my hiccups, but the
easiest explanation is that my thoughts get stuck."
My thoughts get stuck. Tilly nodded slowly. A phrase that
makes sense.
"You mean like getting stuck on the idea of my mom doing
your garden?"
"Exactly."
Isaac sucked in his breath. "How do you get unstuck?"
Good question. Do I have an out clause if I end up
working for this chap? Of course, going to England the next
day made that whole scenario pretty unlikely. James seemed
to be on a mission to start pronto and she couldn't commit
to anything before the school year started.
"How do you get rid of your hiccups?" James asked.
"My mom drops an ice cube down my back." Isaac gave an
exaggerated shiver. "Yuck."
"Well, if your mother can help me create a garden—"
James tugged off his sunglasses and gazed at Tilly
"—that will be my ice cube."
"Cool," Isaac said, and reached for James's hand.
James hesitated. "I'm not good at holding hands. Another
bad habit."
"No biggie." Isaac slotted his arm through James's, and
they smiled at each other.
Poor James. She couldn't imagine not being able to hold
hands. She loved that feeling of being weighted to another
person. Holding hands was the best of the best, and the one
thing she missed most about her marriage. More than sex,
more than kissing. David had been a hand holder. He couldn't
even sit next to Tilly on the sofa without reaching for her.
Tilly flattened her hand over her heart...and shrieked.
Her sugar cone had collapsed, and icy sludge oozed down her
legs.