Blackbird Knitting in a Bunny's Lair (28 page)

And then she asked about the benefit for real.

By the time Aiden and Craw came in to tell them it was time to pack it up and go home, she had the cuff of the sock done, and Jeremy was feeding the baby from a bottle she’d prepared from expressed milk.

And she was wiping tears away again, as far as Jeremy could tell, just because she was happy.

I
N
GENERAL
,
Jeremy was thrilled to have Ariadne back.

He’d been okayed to feed the stock, but they still had Rich for the mill, and Craw and Aiden insisted that Jeremy spend most of his day in the store either helping Ariadne or minding the store alone. It would have been madness for her to be back full time when she was still recovering from the bed rest and the baby, but
she
claimed she would have gone mad alone in the house with just the baby for company. She spent two hours there in the afternoon while Jeremy ran around and did anything from working the dye vats (which he loved) to feeding the stock to simply doing the more active parts of fixing up the store.

He didn’t protest her company in the least.

Back when he’d first come to Granby, Ariadne had terrified him. He’d never had a mother or a sister, and he figured his relationship with Ari was a lot like Aiden’s with his sister, only without the mutual hostility.

The thought comforted him, especially right before the big visit to Aiden’s parents.

“So you’re getting a dog?” Ariadne asked one day. She sat on the stool behind the register with Persephone asleep in the little pink-and-green carrier next to her. They’d had a bit of a rush, but now there were only a couple of people in the shop, knitting.

“Yeah,” Jeremy told her diffidently. He’d made Aiden take them to the store, where they’d bought the appropriate kibble (there was a lot to choose from!) and some canned food for good measure. And, the best thing, a book about raising big dogs, which added loads to his confidence. “Tomorrow night.”

He tried hard to keep his misgivings to himself.

“You could sound more excited,” Ariadne chided, picking up her knitting. “Besides the benefit, it’s the only thing you’ve talked about—getting the dog. What’re you going to name the dog, how’re you going to clean up after the dog, what’s the dog going to do while you’re gone for the day, should you bring the dog to work—I mean, that dog’s had her future planned more than the baby!”

Jeremy grunted. “Bluebell, we
are
bringing her to work and getting her used to the stock, and we brought one of those little spring-loaded doodads and a bucket on a stick.”

Ariadne laughed and nodded her head, then gave the little baby box (it was a car carrier, but Jeremy always thought it looked like baby in a box) a settling rock with her toe. “A way to deal with poop is always a plus,” she said, sounding like she knew. “But you should be climbing the walls, hon. I mean, it’s a
dog
!”

Jeremy looked at her, feeling a little green. “Yeah. And I haven’t been too much of a freak at his parents’ place lately. Maybe they’ll actually let us have it.” With that depressing fear out in the air, he turned back toward his checklist. What had started as a simple handwritten list on Aiden’s mother’s table had grown and grown and grown….

And then had shrunk down to who was dealing with what.

And now that the benefit was in a week, he had a checkmark on almost every person charged with a task. It was all he could do not to spend all day, every day, on the phone worrying those people with what they were supposed to be doing. Oscar might have had his faults as a father, but Jeremy could never deny his old man had been there when they were on the job. It was
hard
learning to trust other people to do their tasks when he hadn’t pulled jobs—er, fundraisers—for them in the past. He had to remind himself constantly that Elaine had come through with the article, Aiden had come through with the flier, and that not one person he’d asked to do something had let him down in the past.

“Are we almost ready?” Ariadne asked quietly, practically reading his mind as he pondered his well-worn piece of legal pad.

“Yeah,” Jeremy muttered. “We are. I just gotta talk to Ben about doing the emcee job and—”

“Wait a minute,” Ariadne snapped, all attention. “Why’s Ben doing the emcee job?”

Jeremy stared at her blankly. “Because he’s charming and he’s pretty and people trust him,” he said, because it was obvious, right? That was what they’d all agreed upon, and it had made sense at the time.

“Why isn’t it you?” Ariadne insisted. “You put this whole thing together. It was your idea. I
know
you can talk to people—”

“Well yeah, Ari, but trust me. I didn’t do presentations much as a con, but when we tried a time-share scam, Ben woulda been a wet dream. People’ll be
dying
to give him money, and since that’s money you need, I’m good with that.”

“But this
isn’t
a scam, Jeremy,” Ariadne said, upset for no good reason Jeremy could think of. “This is a benefit for
me
, and what you and the guys have done is about one of the nicest things that anybody
not
Rory has done for me in my entire life. And
you’re
the one behind it, and
you’re
the one who put it all together, and I want
you
to get the credit!”

“But Ariadne!” Jeremy protested, his voice rising. “People don’t want to give me their money! People
barely
wanted to give me their ad space. I’m an ex-convict with a busted-up face. And I can
deal
with that—because the people who give a damn about me
don’t
give a damn about those other things. But I’m not letting it put your benefit in jeopardy, do you understand that? That’s
your
money, money for you and for Persephone and for other little kids who’ve got families at the end of their rope. I’d have to have the wrong kind of pride to mess with that, okay?”

Ariadne nodded and wiped the back of her hand in front of her eyes carelessly. It came away black with mascara, and Jeremy handed her the box of Kleenex, getting upset himself.

“Ari—”

She held up her hand and turned her face away, as proud about not crying as any man he’d ever met. He turned away and checked the list blindly, thinking maybe if he did his inventory, he’d give her space to get over whatever had her rattled.

It didn’t work.

He’d moved to the computer and was entering in numbers with the efficiency he’d learned over the past couple of months, and suddenly she came up behind him and looped her arms around his neck for a hug.

“I’m not a fan of the Bible,” she said, hanging over his back. “Do you read much of it?”

Jeremy blushed. “I sold enough bogus ones to feel right poorly about reading a real one.”

“Mm-hm. Well, Rory and I don’t go to church—it’s one of the reasons we’re not real popular with the Elks and the library lady—”

“That was me,” he said glumly, and her puff of air in his ear clearly indicated she doubted that.

“The thing is,” she said, continuing on like he hadn’t spoken, “is that the best parts of the Bible, the parts about reaping what you sow, that’s the shit that people use to make you feel really crappy about yourself. When something bad happens—like you getting beat up—the assholes would say, ‘Well, he reaped what he sowed.’ But that’s not the way I see it, you know? Because you showed up here and you were lost, Jeremy, but it was not a problem at all to find you. Making you a part of the family wasn’t any effort. Loving you like a brother, that was as easy as loving Rance or Aiden—that was just how it was supposed to be. But you took that love, and you made it bigger, and this thing you’re doing—Jeremy, I was so damned tired that first day. I came in with Persephone thinking, ‘God, if I can just make it through a visit, have someone else hold the baby, I can stop thinking about money for just a second’—and then this guy it wasn’t an effort to love told me he did this
incredible
thing because I gave him a little bit of love….”

“But it’s still yours,” he said, uncomfortable to his toes with this much gratitude. “And more of it’s yours if Ben does the emcee job!”

“But you
earned
the emcee job! You
earned
the chance for everyone to see you honest. Look at all this work you’ve done, look at all the things you’ve given to be honest—don’t you want to celebrate
that
?”

Jeremy stared at his screen and thought about the sweetness of a woman who was family hugging him and telling him he was worth something.

“Did I ever tell you why I stood up for Stanley?” he asked randomly.

“No,” she mumbled. “Does Aiden even know?”

He smiled a little. “Yeah. Aiden knew the story before I did it—it’s probably the only reason he forgave me. See, before Aiden, I really only ever once kissed someone I could care for. A blowjob and a kiss—I was twenty-four, and at that moment, it was the only honest thing I’d ever done, the only thing I could ever claim as mine. And the guy, he was a mob goon—but he smiled at me and kissed me like I mattered, and for a whole minute, I thought I could have something real. And then, the next night, the guy’s boss blew my daddy away, and that mob goon knew I was a few feet away, hidden in a curtain in an old theater, and that guy—”

“Johnny,” Ariadne said softly, because no one said she was stupid.

“Yeah. You know him as Johnny. He didn’t say a word. He coulda died ugly for me, Ari. But he didn’t say a word. So you talk about reaping what you sow? I have done nothing in my life but reaped what I have sown. And this thing, a chance to do something real for you, for your baby, for Craw ’cause he loves you and wants to take care of you—
that’s
the best crop I could ask for.”

“And Aiden?” she said softly. She was crying again, but she was still at his back, so he didn’t have to face her.

“Aiden’s my treasure,” he said softly, smiling at his bent fingers on the computer keyboard. “He’s pie in the sky. He’s a con man’s ship coming in. I’m like you, Miss Ari. I’m not strong on the Bible, but I sure do see God in my boy.”

“Okay,” she whispered, giving him an unapologetically wet kiss on the cheek. “Okay. So Ben emcees because he’s the best pick. But that doesn’t mean he’s the best man, okay? He’s the best man for
Craw
”—and they both laughed, because seriously, who else would put up with the grumpy bastard—“but he’s not the only good man I know.”

“Well,” Jeremy said, his eyes burning and his throat swelling, generally desperate to be done with this conversation, “you do have to count your husband too.”

“Yes,” she said, unwilling to let the moment go. “But I also count Aiden, and I also count Craw, and I also count you. I love you, Jeremy. Don’t ever, ever doubt that, okay?”

He swallowed and figured he’d have to take his medicine. He clasped her hands as they dangled in front of him and kissed her battered, bony knuckles.

“I love you too, Miss Ari,” he said, resting his cheek against her palm. “And that’s saying something—I don’t much know what to do with women otherwise.”

Her soft laughter was still choked, but he reckoned she’d live with his decision. He didn’t
want
to be in the limelight, he realized. He had more than enough on his plate living in the sun.

“J
ER
,
YOU
can’t pet the damned dog in the suit, you know that, don’t you?”

Jeremy cast a tortured look at Aiden over his shoulder, his plain brown suit rumpling as he did so. “Well, it’s not like the suit fits that great either!”

“Yeah, well, it won’t look any better with dog hair all over it,” Aiden snapped back, wondering how many times he was going to have to reassure his skittish lover this night. It would be worth it, he thought without any grudge at all, but he didn’t fool himself that it would be an easy task.

“But boy—”

“Look, Jer, you’re right. It doesn’t fit. When did Craw buy that for you?”

“Your high school graduation,” Jeremy mumbled.

Aiden scowled. Please—like the world was going to hold it over his head that he dared to be in high school when he met the love of his life. He was about done with
that
noise. “Well, get over it. I graduated from high school three years ago, and you know what? You’ve lost weight since then. You got beat the fuck up, and you survived, but you just now started to eat a full plate of food again. So you know—here, stand up, let me fix your tie—” Jeremy did, and Aiden went about the business of making sure the knot of the blue silk was square against the cream of the freshly washed shirt.

“What do I know?” Jeremy asked, standing patiently under Aiden’s ministrations. “Finish your sentence.”

“I know that I’m damned grateful that you can wear the damned thing at all, and you should be damned grateful you’ve got a damned suit. It’s more than you had when you showed up here, and you’re not going to have to wear it again until Craw and Ben or you and me get married.”

Jeremy’s mouth parted slightly. “People do that,” he said, his body gone suddenly still, and Aiden stopped fussing and kissed him gently.

“Yeah, Jer. People do that. Gay men do that. It
is
a possibility. Why does that surprise you?”

Jeremy’s mouth quirked a little, and he set his hand on the dog’s head. “It’s nothing,” he said, brown eyes distant in that way Aiden used to hate. In a moment, they snapped to Aiden’s face, and he smiled sweetly. “Just, you know, I used to watch those people, the married people. Got to know their ins and outs, how they held hands, what their weaknesses were, why they fought, why they’d stay together. I mean, the surest way to figure out if people are greedy enough to get conned is to figure out what they really love, right?”

Aiden shifted from foot to foot. “Yeah? What’s that have to do with us getting married?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know—it’s just that, well, nobody could con us, you know? I know which folks’d be vulnerable to that. But we wouldn’t. ’Cause we got everything we want. You, me, the house, the dog, friends. We could get married and shit could go wrong, and time and illness and such—but the shit people use to cheat you with? We’d be okay.”