Tab Bennett and the Inbetween (23 page)

Sometime in the early morning, he sat up in bed and said, “Come back Gwen. Robbin! Come back.” It took me one sleepy minute to realize he was dreaming and not talking to someone with us in the room.

“It’s OK. Lay down, sweetie.”

He looked at me without seeing me, his eyes glassy and empty and scared. When he reached out and touched my face some of the tension drained from his body.

“Gwen? You didn’t go.” He laid down beside me, a big brother distance away and took my hand. “I’m sorry Gwen. Don’t be mad at me. I couldn’t let you go. It would have been a disaster. You belong here. You know that.”

There was so much I didn’t know about my mother, about her life, about how she died. It wasn’t fair to trick a sick man into telling me what no else would, but I didn’t care. Where were she and Robbin going? And why did Alex stop them? I wanted to know. I needed to. I took a gamble, hoping I’d say the right thing and he would keep talking.

“You should have let me go,” I said.

He stiffened and turned towards me. He seemed to be about to say something but then he shook his head, dismissing the thought.

 “Disaster,” he mumbled. “Robbin.”

“Why was it going to be a disaster? Where did they…we want to go?”

He looked confused. “Tab,” he said. “It’s not Tabitha. She hates being a princess.”

Whatever he’d been about to say was lost again in his subconscious.

So much for that plan.

Around sunrise his fever broke. He shivered and shook as he sweated the fever out but afterwards he slept more peacefully. We both did.

**********

I was alone in bed when I woke up. I could hear the shower running and someone, Alex, singing. He sounded better. His voice was off key, but strong. 

I should have gotten up, given him some privacy, but I didn’t. I stayed there, waiting. I wanted to see him, healthy and healed.

He was dressed in a pair of striped pajamas pants and nothing else when he came out of the bathroom. His hair was wet and his face was clean-shaven. He looked good, better anyway. His was still a little flushed and his eyes had that glassy look that indicates a fever, but he was upright and walking like an old pro.

 “You stayed with me.” He looked pleased.

I shrugged in what I hoped was an offhand manner. Now that he was better it seemed silly to have been so worried. I knew he’d use it against me.

“How do you feel?” I asked, suddenly regretting the way I was laying tangled up amongst the covers. It felt too intimate, too comfortable and therefore, uncomfortable. I sat up and pulled my knees against my chest. 

“I feel better. A little tired, but better.”

He went to his suitcase and took out a t-shirt. He looked at me and smiled then pulled it gingerly over his head. He winced a little.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“No big deal. I would have done the same for anyone.”

He walked over and sat next to me on the bed.  “Thank you just the same.”

I shrugged again.

“I was surprised to find you in bed with me this morning.” His voice was gentle, probing but without a hint of smugness. “Pleasantly surprised.”

“I didn’t want to leave you,” I whispered. I didn’t mean to say it so softly but that’s how it came out. I don’t think it was what he was expecting me to say. The look on his face was hard to read but he definitely liked my answer.

“I’ve been told I talk in my sleep,” he said.

I interrupted him, asking “By whom?”

 He gave me a grin for an answer and continued. “I must have had a lot to say last night.”

I shook my head, playing innocent for all I was worth. “Not that I remember.”

He looked at me, head tilted to the side, a quizzical look on his face. “You are a terrible liar.” Then suddenly he laughed. It sounded so good I never wanted it to stop. I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. “No I’m not.”

 “Which one? Not a liar or not a bad liar?’ He laid down next to me and closed his eyes.

“Either. Both.”

The air was buzzing –
buzzing
– with magic and attraction. I only hesitated for a second before I kissed him very softly on the lips. The contact shocked us both, drawing a little moan from somewhere deep inside him. I did it again, enjoying the bolt of electricity and desire and need that ran up my spine. I could feel myself melting into him, feel him wanting more of me. Another kiss and it would be too late to stop.

“Alex,” I whispered. “You need to heal.”

“I’m fine,” he said, his hands skimming slowly down my body.

“You weren’t last night.” With an effort that would have made Atlas look like a quitter, I pulled myself away from him. I went to stand up, hoping that would make it easier to imagine leaving him, but he caught my hand. I saw him wince as the movement pulled at his side. “See what I mean?”

He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. About a thousand thoughts jumped into my mind, all mine, all related to how badly I wanted him, how I should stay with him, how much I wanted to stay. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

“Will you lay here with me then?” His eyes were a swirl of colors, all blues and greens and gold. “Just until I fall asleep.”

I gently pulled my hand free and took a step back. “You’ll get more rest if I go.” I resisted the urge to check his forehead for fever, to smooth his hair, to tuck him in. I didn’t trust myself for even one more minute in that room with him.

Like a coward, I ran.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Alex stood in the doorway of the solarium, smiling at me.

“I’m not hiding.”

“Yes you are,” he said. “But I understand why you’re acting this way so I’m not offended.”

“You do?” He nodded and I laughed because even I couldn’t explain the way I was acting. My confusion was dizzying. Epic. “Well by all means, enlighten me,” I said. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on my behavior.”

“I think it’s better if I let you figure it out for yourself. While you’re puzzling that out, I thought perhaps we would begin your lessons.”

“My lessons?”

“I seem to recall promising to teach you to fight. You said I should be the one to teach you because I wouldn’t hesitate to beat you.”

I laughed, “That’s not what I said.”

“That was the gist of it.” His smile made my heart skip a beat. “My memory of every moment of that particular afternoon is crystal clear.”

I blushed and looked away, remembering how we’d ended up, wondering what would have happened if Nicholas hadn’t shown up on my porch when he did.

“I thought we would begin now, if you’re ready.”

I wasn’t ready.

“I guess I am. Are you? How do you feel?”

“I am as good as new,” was his sunny reply. Then to prove it, he did a flip in the air.

I laughed and clapped, amazed at his agility. “You’re really not human at all, are you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

It was obviously a matter of pride to him, not being human. I wondered how he saw me. I had no magic to speak of. Aside from my trusty death visions and the occasion peek into someone’s head, I didn’t see any Elvish qualities in myself.

“Does that bother you?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” I said.

“You’ll get used to it.” He flipped again, just to show off, and then lifted his shirt to show me the scar. A long, red line running down the side of his otherwise perfect torso was the only reminder of the attack that nearly cost him his life. In a day or two, even that would be gone. “The Elvish heal quickly.”

“I can see that.”

“So you’re ready to begin?” he asked.

Growing up there had been the occasional scuffle; with seven kids under one roof fisticuffs was unavoidable. Hair pulling was popular, as was the dreaded surprise attack smack. Kicking enjoyed a brief but meaningful reign amongst the Bennett kids too; for a while you couldn’t walk passed Francis without getting kicked in the butt. Once I jumped on Molly and wrestled her to the ground. I can’t remember why anymore but I’m sure I had my reasons. The point is, although I’d been in my fair share of sibling pile-ons, I’d never fought with anyone who wanted to do me serious harm. Not that I thought Alex would hurt me, but I knew that he would be willing to come close to teach me how to survive if I was up against someone who wanted nothing more than to hear me scream.

I shivered. I had officially scared myself.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Hit me as hard as you can.”

I rolled my eyes and waited for further instructions. He gestured for me to get on with it. “Wait, seriously?”

“I have to know how strong you are.”

“You were nearly eviscerated like a week ago,” I said, shaking my head. “I am not going to hit you.”

“So far you’re a very disobedient student.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said.

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

“How do you know? I might hurt you. I could.” He gave me a doubtful smirk, which I found mildly infuriating. “Brace yourself, Hilldale.” I took off my fuzzy gray sweater and threw it over the back of my chair. I noticed him appreciating the way I looked in the close fitting yoga pants and t-strap tank top I wore underneath. I heard him think some blush worthy thoughts.

“Ready?” I asked.

He unzipped his sweatshirt and threw it on the fountain’s ledge and suddenly it was my turn to stare. The t-shirt he wore fit him like a second skin, showcasing his tight stomach and sculpted arms.

 “You want to keep your thumbs on the outside of your fist,” he reminded.

“Yeah, thanks. I know.” I promised myself he would be the first person I beat up once I learned to fight.

I pulled my arm back. “Where should I hit you?”

“Anywhere you like.”

I looked around for a target then hit his shoulder as hard as I could. He winced but it was sympathy for my pain rather than a reaction to his own. My hand felt like it was broken in six different places.

“Not bad,” he said. “Let’s try this instead. Put one foot in front of the other for balance. Balance is important. In a fight, you have a chance as long as you remain on your feet.” I mimicked his pose, trying not to look as silly as I felt. “Good. Keep your center of gravity low. Don’t lock your knees. You’ll use your back leg and shoulder for power. You want to be able to spring at your opponent.”

I did what he said, springing up and down off my back leg. He laughed and put his hands on my shoulders.

“There’s not usually quite so much hopping.”

“No hopping,” I said seriously. “Got it.”

“Keep your hands up in front of your face. Good,” he said as he corrected the position of my legs with light pressure on my thigh. Then he lifted my hands a little higher. “Protect your face and keep your elbows in.”

“Protect the face,” I repeated. “Elbows in.”

“Very good. Now hit me again.”

I did all the things he said, drawing on my springy back leg for power and whatever. I wish I could say I knocked him down, that I gave him a black eye or something but my second punch was only a little better than my first. He seemed happy with my progress though.

“With a little fine-tuning,” he said, “you will be a very serious adversary in a fight.” He might have been teasing me but at least he didn’t laugh.