Bewitched by Bella's Brother (22 page)

and very tired as well. Asa’s dad had spent his youth tall, but had developed a small stoop in recent years. That didn’t stop him from giving off an impression of hearty and hale senior-ness, just like his wife gave off elegant and self-Bewitched by Bella’s Brother |
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contained womanhood. Sebastian noticed for the first time that his hair had gone both black and gray as he’d aged—

just like Asa’s—and, of course, he had the Bryne ocean blue eyes.

They had his car keys, which went with his car and all

of his stuff in the back of another tiny U-haul trailer that was sitting in the driveway.

“Omigod!” Sebastian was flummoxed. He walked dazedly

into Brenda’s hug and shook hands with Bjorn, feeling like he’d won the lottery. He had
dreaded
the trip back to Spokane. “You did that for
me
?”

“Well yeah,” Bjorn said, smiling. “You’re family.” He had crinkles at the corners of his eyes just like Asa too.

Sebastian had never known what the man had thought

about his relationship with Bjorn’s son; he was always the quiet observer at family meetings. Apparently, what he

observed hadn’t sent him screaming for the nearest

fundamentalist church, Sebastian thought with some relief, and he fought everything in him not to throw himself into the guy’s arms and cry like a little kid.

“Thank you,” he said, choking up a little. He took the

keys and tucked them into his pocket and gave them both a bleary smile. “It would have about killed me to go back there, even for a day.”

Brenda smiled and patted his cheek a little, and he

managed to get his shit together, even if he had to use both hands. “What can I say, sweetheart—you were the one doing the hard part. We just took a trip.” And with that she

yawned and stretched and looked apologetically at Bella, who had been sitting—with Sebastian—at the breakfast table when they’d walked in. “But it was an all-night trip. Bella, Bewitched by Bella’s Brother |
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darling, you look like you got the most sleep; you wouldn’t want to drive us home, would you? Your daddy and I have to get a nap in, or we’re not going to make it.”

Bjorn nodded, characteristically taciturn, and then

added, “But I think we should tell you, Sebastian—we didn’t clean the bathroom when we left. We were afraid of

retaliation from the alien life forms in there. They were scary.”

Sebastian started to giggle, and then he started to

laugh, and then the laughter turned hysterical, and then he hugged the man in spite of all the proprieties that told him he shouldn’t. Asa’s father returned the hug and whispered,

“We’re really glad you’re in the family, son—but don’t leave him again. It’ll break his heart.”

“I won’t,” Sebastian murmured. “I promise.”

They left, and he went upstairs to tell Asa. Asa was

asleep next to Jordan with the television on, so Sebastian scooted in next to him and watched the rerun of
Cold Case
(because Asa seemed to adore crime procedurals and

detective shows with all his heart), before falling asleep himself.

When he woke up, Bella was there in the chair by the

bed, sketching casually away in her sketchbook. He blinked at her, wiping his mouth, and said, “Did you catch the drool track, heifer? It would be a shame if you missed that.”

“Don’t be a drooling ass, Sebastian. Here—you want to

see?”

The nature of a caricature was that it captured specific characteristics in only a few lines, and that was what this did. It showed three lions—two males and a cub, one male Bewitched by Bella’s Brother |
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lying on his side, protecting the cub, the way Asa was curled around his son, and one male lazily licking the other’s ear.

Sebastian looked at it, and felt his eyes prickle again.

“Damn you and your family—you’re not going to be happy

until I’m a poster boy for the women’s network, are you?”

“Yeah, Sebastian, we like our men weepy, like our open

sores. What do you think?”

He cringed at the metaphor—part of their day had been

spent putting Asa and Jordan into oatmeal baths because

the sores had gotten bad and itchy, as predicted. But then he looked at the picture and felt all of his art snobbery disappear, leaving him with nothing but love for the drawing.

“I think you should slap some color on this baby and

frame it, and put it on your brother’s boring downstairs wall, that’s what I think.”

Bella colored prettily, looking like a real girl. “I really like drawing these,” she said softly. “Maybe I can do these as a sideline. Work fairs and street corners and shit. What do you think?”

Sebastian smiled a little, snuggling against Asa some

more. “I think I can hire you to work Saturday nights at the bookstore—I’m the store manager now, you know.”

Bella gasped. “Really?”

“Really really. Rhonda said fine, she’d transfer me back, but first I had to demote Mike Greavy and take his spot. I figured, what the hell? I actually really like that job, you know?”

Bella was still impressed. “Shit, Sebastian—I knew you

were coming back, I didn’t know you were… were….”

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Sebastian closed his eyes, listening to Asa’s breathing

and thinking about another nap. “Growing up? Yeah. It hurt to get here, but the fringe benefits rock.”

He woke up a little when Bella came and got Jordan and

took him to his own room. He woke up a lot when Asa

growled in his ear.

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”

“When I’ve been sleeping, yes,” Sebastian told him. “Yes, Daddy Bear, I’ve been sleeping in your bed.”

“You remember what I said,” Asa warned, and Sebastian

turned toward him, spots and all. Sebastian wanted to kiss him, but Asa’s pox looked sore and Sebastian’s skin itched looking at him, and he figured the kiss could wait. Asa’s eyes were still beautiful, though, and he smelled like Asa and oatmeal soap, and they were going to be all right.

“Yeah, I remember.” He managed a kiss on the tip of

Asa’s spot-free nose. “You said that I could only spend the night here with Jordan in the house if I meant to stay. I know you’ve been out of it, baby, but I really mean to stay.”

“Thank God,” Asa swore. “Because when I get better, I

have such incredible fantasies of you in this bed.”

Sebastian looked at him seriously, searching those

ocean gray eyes with his own deep-blue ones. “Is one of

those growing old together? I’ve got to tell you, I’ve got the
best
fantasy in that department.”

Asa nodded and smiled. “You know the best thing about

that fantasy?”

“You’re gonna tell me.”

“I can spend every day making it come true.”

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They were quiet for a minute, and then Sebastian

remembered something.

“Hey, Asa, you know what happened while you were out

of it?”

“You moved in?”

“Even better!”

Asa raised his eyebrows and then winced and then

winced again. Every movement hurt when you were an adult with the chicken pox. “Thrill me.”

“The Giants made the playoffs!”

Asa grinned in spite of the pain. “When’s the first game of the series?”

“Next week.”

“I can make that.”

Sebastian doubted it, but he wouldn’t ruin the moment.

“Good—so can I.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out, I’m going to be in town.”

Asa laughed and then grew sober. He reached out a

fingertip and traced Sebastian’s cheekbone, and Sebastian closed his eyes at the tenderness of the touch. “Say it,” Asa begged quietly. “We haven’t said it face to face, and I’m feeling weak and insecure.”

Sebastian was feeling weepy again. “You go ahead and

feel weak,” he said softly. “You go ahead and feel weak, and I’ll be there to lean on. I love you, you old geezer. I will love you in the nursing home together, when all the orderlies are trying to get a piece of your old wrinkly ass. Better yet, I’ll love you in a week when
I
can get a piece of your fine young Bewitched by Bella’s Brother |
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ass, and I’ll love you in twenty years when Jordan’s getting married and you’re going to want to
kick
his ass, and….”

Asa pecked him very gingerly on the forehead, and

Sebastian stopped talking.

“I love you too.”

AMY LANE teaches high school English, mothers four

children, and writes the occasional book. When she’s not begging students to sit-the-hell-down or taxiing kids to soccer/dance/karate—oh my! she can be found catching

emergency naps, grocery shopping, or hiding in the

bathroom, trying to read without interruption. She will never be found cooking, cleaning, or doing domestic chores, but she has been known to knit up an emergency

hat/blanket/pair of socks for any occasion whatsoever or sometimes for no reason at all. She writes in the shower, while commuting, while her classes are doing bookwork, or while she’s wandering the neighborhood at night pretending to exercise and has learned from necessity to type like the wind. She lives in a spider-infested and crumbling house in a shoddy suburb and counts on her beloved mate, Mack, to keep her tethered to reality—which he does while keeping her cell phone charged as a bonus. She’s been married for twenty plus years and still believes in Twu Wuv, with a

capital Twu and a capital Wuv, and she doesn’t see any

reason at all for that to change.

Visit Amy’s web site at http://www.greenshill.com. You can e-mail her at [email protected].

Also by AMY LANE

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com