The Game of Love and Death by Brockenbrough Martha

Author:Brockenbrough, Martha [Brockenbrough, Martha]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2015-03-09T07:00:00+00:00

HENRY retrieved an umbrella from the Cadillac and waved Ethan and James ahead. He’d walk a few paces behind Flora and see to it she got home safely. If he timed his steps to match hers, she wouldn’t even know.

He liked watching her walk. He liked the look of the umbrella resting on her shoulder, the way her dress swished around her calves with each step, and the smart way her shoes met the sidewalk. No hesitation. Ka-tap, ka-tap, ka-tap. A high-heeled heartbeat softened by the gentle hiss of rain.

Every so often, she seemed to speed up or slow down. Henry was long used to keeping time with other musicians, so he had no problem responding. But after several blocks she surprised him by stopping short. The scuff-click of his own footstep echoed off of someone’s garage. Flora held still, as though she were listening, and Henry waited for her to turn around. She didn’t.

As she resumed walking, Henry followed. But after a few strides, she tossed in a little dance step he could not hope to follow. This time, when his footfalls rang out, she stopped.

“I thought I heard a shadow.” She turned toward him.

“The noisiest one in the history of shadows. I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”

“You must have confused me with some other person who is frightened by a stroll.”

“At midnight? In the rain?”

Flora peered out from under her umbrella. She pretended to be injured by the raindrops that hit her cheeks. “We could keep going like this,” she said, “or you could walk beside me.” She paused. “Even though I don’t have any gingerbread this time.”

She remembered that day from when they were children, the day Charles Lindbergh came to town. His pleasure at that left him unable to hold on to his hurt feelings. Not now, not when he was so close to her, thinking about her voice, dying to know what she’d thought of the show. There was no one in his life to talk to about what music meant. He didn’t realize until that moment how much he hungered for such a thing.

Their umbrellas knocked against each other overhead as they walked, shaking down a net of raindrops, and Flora laughed. “There’s room under mine. Here.”

She raised her umbrella to make space, and Henry folded his away. She took his other arm. She wasn’t as tall as he’d remembered. The top of her head came to an inch or two below his shoulder. Still, she was the perfect size. His arm would wrap around her waist just so…

“Cat got your tongue?” She looked up at him.

“Cat? What?” Henry was glad she couldn’t read his mind. “What did you think of the music tonight?”

“One of the better bass players I’ve heard,” she said. “But not the best.”

His heart beat faster and they turned onto Flora’s street. Henry wanted her to say who the best was, and he wanted it to be him, and that need embarrassed him.

“Ooh, stop!” Flora said. “Listen — midnight.”

Henry stood

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