Precious and Fragile Things Read online

  “No.”

  “Best out of three…?” she began, her tone lightly teasing, in a better mood than she’d been in the weeks since he’d brought her here.

  “Just shut the fuck up, okay?” Todd snapped.

  Gilly wilted like a flower without water, then set her jaw. “Fine.”

  Todd was agitated, rocking on the balls of his feet, lighting cigarettes from the ends of others. He shrugged into his ratty sweatshirt and pulled a large plaid hunting jacket over top. “I’m going out.”

  “Out where?” Gilly got to her feet, alarmed. “It’s freezing out there.”

  “I’ve got to get out of here!” His eyes looked through her without seeing her. He took one last drag on his smoke before dropping it to the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot.

  Gilly recognized the edge of panic in his voice, but could not imagine what had caused it. “Todd…”

  He slapped himself in the face. Gilly stopped, stunned. A runner of blood appeared at the corner of Todd’s mouth, and he didn’t even bother to wipe it away. He slapped the other side. His bent his head, his dark hair hanging to obscure his face.

  “What’s wrong with you?” This new behavior frightened Gilly more than any other had. She stepped toward him, not thinking, and grabbed his arm.

  Todd flung off her touch and fled out the door. He disappeared into the night, leaving only footprints in the snow to show where he had gone. Gilly stood in the doorway, mindless of the frigid night air against her skin for a full few minutes as she searched the darkness for him. He was gone.

  Gilly shivered and went inside, closing the door behind her. The sight of Todd’s blood had left her with a chill that even sitting by the fire could not chase away. What had made him do that?

  Something in that ragged file of papers had upset him. She had to know what it was. Without a second thought, Gilly grabbed one of the dining table chairs and dragged it over to the huge armoire in the corner.

  Someone, a long time ago, had lovingly carved the armoire to fit the cabin’s corner space. The massive piece rose nearly to the ceiling, its heavy doors shielding four deep drawers and eight roomy shelves. Todd, easily taller than six-two, had no problem tucking the file away on top of the armoire, but Gilly at almost a foot shorter wasn’t nearly tall enough to reach. Even with the chair, and standing on her tiptoes, she couldn’t quite grab the file. She strained, fingers scrabbling, but all that happened was the chair wobbled and she nearly fell.

  The door banged open, and cold air swirled in. Startled and guilty, Gilly jumped from the chair. Todd slammed the door behind him and shrugged out of his coat. He stamped the snow from his boots.

  There was no hiding what she’d been doing. Gilly waited for his reaction. Todd stared at her for a long time, so long that the silence became uncomfortable and Gilly had to break it.

  “You came back.”

  His slanting grin lacked its usual luster. “You think I wouldn’t?”

  “I didn’t know.” Gilly took the chair back to the table and hung his snow-covered coat over the back of it. “Are you okay?”

  “Nope,” Todd said with a trace of his former cheeriness. “But I’m used to it.”

  “I can make some tea,” Gilly said, surprising herself with the offer.

  She must have surprised him, as well, because he cocked his head to stare at her thoughtfully. “Thanks.”

  She nodded, uncertain exactly what had passed between them but knowing something had begun to change. As she headed for the kitchen to boil water, he called after her.

  “Don’t look in that file,” Todd said. “There’s some pretty awful shit in there. Especially for someone like you.”

  Someone like her? But Gilly was afraid to ask, and so he didn’t tell.

  26

  “I’ve been waiting for a girl like you…” Seth sings this loudly and off-key. He’s had too much to drink. He’s not charming when he’s drunk. He might be charming all the rest of the time, but not when he’s drunk. Or maybe it’s her, maybe it’s just that she doesn’t like it.

  A girl like you, Seth sings again, lifting his glass toward her.

  Karaoke sounded like a good idea when she agreed to go along with a bunch of other people from the office and some of their friends, and some random strangers who’d ended up coming along. Gilly doesn’t like to sing, not in public, anyway, and has been more than content to sit and watch.

  Seth is a friend of her boss’s wife. Gilly met him at a barbecue a few months ago, and he’s shown up fairly often at group dates like these. He’s always been nice. They have something in common, both of them Jews in a widely Christian area. He’s handsome and funny, when he’s not drinking and making an ass of himself singing in falsetto.

  Tonight she was supposed to have a date with Joe, but he stood her up. Well, he called to cancel. That wasn’t any better. He thinks Gilly loves him, but she doesn’t.

  Later, though, she’s glad Joe passed on the night. Gilly realizes Seth’s not drunk. Sure, he’s had a couple of beers, but it’s not alcohol that gets him up there to sing and dance and make a fool of himself. He just doesn’t care if people think he’s a goofball.

  She likes that about him, Gilly realizes, the third or maybe it’s the fourth time they go out like that. She likes Seth. She offers him her number without thinking too much about it. Not a big deal, really. He’ll call or he won’t.

  But Seth holds the number in his hand as though she’s given him something precious. “I didn’t think…”

  Gilly’s been laughing, having fun with friends. This didn’t seem like something important until just now, but watching Seth look at her she understands it’s all become very significant, indeed. “You didn’t think what?”

  “I didn’t think a girl like you would go out with a guy like me. That’s all.”

  “What,” she says, laughing, “is a girl like me?”

  Seth’s answer is a kiss, soft and lingering.

  He never does give her an answer other than that.

  27

  Whatever had been bothering him the night before had left him. Gilly watched him carefully, trying not to let him know she was doing it. Todd might call himself dumb, but he noticed her scrutiny.

  “I’m okay today,” he told her. “I’m not going to freak out on you or anything like that.”

  “Whatever,” Gilly said as though she didn’t really care. “Want to play some checkers?”

  “Sure.” Todd got out the board and checkers from the armoire and put them on the coffee table in front of the woodstove.

  They played three games, and Todd won every one. After the third victory, he lit a fresh cigarette and gave Gilly a sideways, thoughtful glance. She pretended not to notice as she set the board up again.

  “How come you were letting me win?”

  Gilly feigned ignorance. “I wasn’t letting you win.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, you were.”

  Gilly forced herself to look offended, though he had caught her out. “Why would I do that?”

  For once, Todd let the cigarette burn without smoking it. “You tell me.”

  Gilly sighed. “I didn’t want you to get upset again.”

  “And you thought if I lost a stupid game of checkers, I’d get whacked-out again?” Todd’s eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs and shook his head. “I’m a piece of work, I know, but I ain’t that bad.”

  Now she was on the defensive. “I just thought…”

  “You do that for your kids? Let them win so they don’t get upset?”

  “Sometimes.” Gilly fiddled with the checkers.

  “You think that helps them?”

  “I don’t think it hurts them,” Gilly said.

  Todd rolled his neck on his shoulders, cracking it, and stretched out his impossibly long legs. “The world is shit, Gilly, and the sooner they learn that, the better off they’ll be.”

  Gilly thought of her sweet babies, her innocent darlings. “I don’t agree.�€