Chapter Four

The Sanctusaurus and the Proper Snog

Tuesday arrived rather sooner than later. Vanessa arranged for Percy to meet her at the brewery for their evening rounds, so she stashed her bike in its usual place on the rack. The streets were strangely empty in the middle of the day while most downtown workers were indoors and before the nightlife businesses opened. She paced nervously for the few minutes before Javier arrived, billowing her shirt to keep cool in the midday sun. She had forgotten about the heat when she had the clever idea to meet at the tavern.

“Safety first!” she muttered, stilling her efforts swiftly as a dark luxury sedan made its way around the corner.

Javier pulled up in front of her and leapt out to open her door. “Vanessa!” He air kissed her cheek, and she flushed at his closeness. “I hope you have not been waiting long. Such heat today!”

Vanessa slid into the cool interior and pulled the door closed. “You can say that again,” she smiled appraisingly as Javier’s lithe form crossed in front of the car to his side. With relief, she pointed the air conditioning vents toward her face and chest.

“I’m glad to see you’re wearing comfortable shoes. Where we’re going, we’ll have to walk a bit,” Javier smiled slightly as he drove in comfortable silence. Vanessa suspected he enjoyed keeping her in suspense, so she did not press at first.

“Is it a place you go often?”

“Never been there, actually. But I’ve heard about it a lot at work, so I looked it up.”

Vanessa loved the sound of Javier’s voice. She saw him smile, and she realized she was gawking at him moonily again. She cleared her throat slightly. “Well, then we get to discover it together.”

“The first of many experiences, I hope,” Javier flirted.

“Is this on?” Vanessa indicated the air conditioning vent. “Because I’m feeling a little warm.”

Javier chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made Vanessa actually grateful for the cool air, but he did not speak. Vanessa decided to pursue a safer topic.

“Do you always get off on Tuesdays?” Vanessa considered her words and bit her lip, hoping he took them in the innocent spirit in which they were consciously intended.

“My schedule changes every few weeks, but I have Tuesdays and half of Saturdays and Sundays off for now. Unfortunately, the heat and wind put my services in demand at this time of year.”

“Gabi said you cure little kids with asthma.”

“Well, I care for them. Only God cures. But I do my best. Asthma is my area of specialization,” Javier’s brow grew tense with concern so that Vanessa imagined he was remembering his small patients. He shook his head slightly and whispered under his breath. Vanessa thought he might have been praying. “And you? Do you have an area of specialization?”

“I’m one of the head bartenders at the tavern. I enjoy the work and the conversations, seeing life unfold around me while I see to the people living it. I usually don’t have incidents like the other night,” a hint of worry crept into her voice. She hoped he did not think less of her for missing the drugging.

“I thought as much. You were right there in front of us before I had even spoken three sentences. I could tell you care about people, too.”

Vanessa shrank inwardly from the compliment. “Then, there’s my other job. I suppose Gabi told you that I’m a freegan?”

“She said you have a dirty habit of digging in the trash, but if I could look past it, we would be perfect for each other,” he smiled. “Her words. I have lived in enough places to know that American trash is luxurious by world standards.”

“Well, I don’t only dumpster dig. That’s just the part that creeps Gabi out the most. My fellow freegans and I try to have the lowest environmental impact we can. That means we’ll accept cast-offs with discretion, or barter when we can. It’s not that different from the way my grandmother used to talk about the Depression and war years, really.” Vanessa felt exposed at her mention of Granny. The pain of Granny’s loss was still too close to mention casually. She grasped for a turn in the conversation. “You said you’ve lived in a lot of places. Travel?”

“School and training, mostly. I was a foreign exchange student to India in high school. Then I spent a year in Rwanda before college, touring with a church group in the aftermath of the genocide. My father is also a doctor, and my family went with him while he worked. I got my first clinical training that year. And of course, you know about my medical residency in Costa Rica.”

Vanessa stared blankly for a moment, the images from the scrapbooks filling her imagination. “Oh! Right. From Mary. But you said you have family there, yes?”

“My auntie and her family, and, of course several dozen cousins of varying degree. It was a lovely time, getting to be part of a tribe.”

“I think I know what you mean, a little. My women’s group is like a tribe. A small one, but they’re fierce.”

“Do you have family in the area?”

“No. My dad passed when I was a teenager, and my mom lives in Louisiana. She rarely calls or answers when I call. But my Aunt Clotilde is a ball! Talk about a tribe, that lady is a force unto herself. When I was in college, I happened to complain to her that I was hungry, what with the two-meal plan and no funds. The next week, I got thirty-four care packages in the mail from Aunt Clotilde, all of my scattered relatives, and her entire women’s circle at church. One of them was entirely composed of Necco wafers, because a lady saw me playing Communion with them when I was little and mistakenly thought I enjoyed eating them,” Vanessa grinned at the memory.

“Thirty-four! What must your roommate have thought of that?” Javier’s smile mirrored hers.

“Well, you’ve met her. Gabi made sure not a bit of the food went to waste. She took the stuff we didn’t like and used it as our contribution to a dorm party in our room. It was the beginning of the best study group a first year student could have.”

“Were they all smart?”

“Hardly. But I made A’s on my own. No, they were hilarious. They got sugar highs from all those Necco wafers, and we started a pretend cult based on the principles of our first year historiography lectures. I have a few letters from the personas they adopted. One of them was Concerned Citizen, the pre-dental student was Oral Historian, another was Illegible Diarist, and my favorite, of course, Communal Memory. That was Gabi. She would write us each letters claiming our actions as hers, but with corny twists.”

“And who were you?” Javier turned his car down a wooded neighborhood street, the sort that was too specific not to be near their destination.

“Investigative Brothel Owner, or the Brothel Spy, for short. I represented the history made and recorded through pillow talk and its machinations. Gabi came up with the name to punish me for talking in my sleep—which, I don’t, by the way.”

“So you say,” Javier smiled. “I’m pretty sure others have to be the judge as to whether one has that particular habit. My brother snores, and he would swear under oath that he sleeps like an angel.”

They pulled into a parking lot.

“The Museum of Life and Science? Okay, now I’m curious.”

“You weren’t before?” Javier raised an eyebrow, causing Vanessa’s heart to race. Why was this man’s every gesture so appealing?

Javier parked. Vanessa was halfway out of the car when she noticed that he had come to her side to open the door for her again. He waited for her to exit with his hand on the door, and he closed it behind her.

“Shall we?” he gestured toward the entrance.

They walked alongside one another over the hot asphalt. Vanessa felt the relieving coolness of his arm in the air between them as they walked. Javier held the door for her to enter. She thanked him and smiled at his simple kindness. Javier bought them tickets, secreted a look at a map, and smiled at her with his eyes over the map’s top.

“This way,” he motioned with his right arm. Then, to Vanessa’s delight, Javier touched her lower back lightly to steer her. His was the directive touch of a strong dance partner.

“Do you dance?” Vanessa blurted, her delight at his nearness overcoming her desire not to appear too curious.

“Yes,” Javier looked her in the eye. He held her gaze as a small herd of happy preschoolers rushed past them onto the playground. When the last two had run out, small children in pink and princess garb, he moved her forward again. “I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Vanessa walked into the modest heat of a shaded playground, relishing the feel of Javier’s hand as he steered her toward the right path. She sighed to herself when he moved away. She looked around her. Small children played on climbing structures, banged drums, dug in a sandpit, and clambered through a railroad caboose. She wondered again what Javier wanted her to see, but refused to yield to her curiosity to ask. Instead, she stopped at a low green plant overflowing through a split rail fenced kitchen garden.

“Lemon balm!” Vanessa pinched off a leaf and rubbed it, inhaling the freshness. “Here. Sniff it!” she held the bruised leaf out toward Javier. He smelled it dutifully and smiled. Vanessa cupped the leaf in her palm and rubbed it with her forefinger. “I use this in our mojitos along with mint. We use a Southern rum, and I find the lemon balm enlivens the flavors better than mint alone,” she raised her hand to her face once more, then let the leaf fall to the ground.

Javier caught her hand before she dropped it, too. He raised it to his lips and kissed her fingertips lightly, “I can see that. The fragrance is certainly enlivening on its own,” he released her hand, but continued to smile at her as they started walking again.

“Are you interested in bartending, then?” Vanessa asked, not letting herself read too much into his gesture. Her heart raced in the fingertips he had kissed.

“Bartending, not too much. Bartenders, yes.”

“You mean you often date bartenders?”

“No. I mean I’ve always wanted to date a bartender,” Javier’s smile seemed calculated for mischief.

“Well, that’s enigmatic! Do explain,” Vanessa attempted a studied smile in return.

“My priest growing up always used to tell us that no one should be in ministry without first tending bar.”

“Meaning… you think I should be a nun?”

“No!” Javier grabbed Vanessa’s hand and squeezed, “No, I mean, he said bartenders and clergy had a similar feel for the pulse of people’s lives, a similar capacity for the kind of humble acceptance and love that builds communities. I found that intriguing.” He had not let go of her hand, and he looked at her uncertainly, as if asking permission to continue.

“Well, I’m intrigued that you’re intrigued,” Vanessa squeezed back, and they walked forward to the rhythm of two racing hearts.

They came to an open area, where Javier released her hand to consult the map. When they set off again, he twined his fingers through hers. After a lull between patches of shade and conversation, Vanessa asked, “Is that why you asked me out, then? To see if I’m communicable, or whatever?”

Javier laughed, “I’m afraid I asked you out because I liked you and thought you were beautiful as soon as I saw you.”

Vanessa’s breath caught at his admission. She could not think of a reply, so she contented herself with not leaping foolishly for joy.

“Here we are,” Javier released her hand and returned his palm to her lower back, steering her gently to one side. “Part one of your surprise.”

Vanessa had been staring at him again. She forced herself to look away from her study of the way his hair curled behind his ears. They were in front of a pile of rocks surrounding a red creature. “Dinosaurs!” she gasped. “How cool!”

Two of the children that had run past them earlier were climbing on the dinosaur’s back. “Shoo, Fluff!” shouted the older one, dressed as a princess. The younger one, a little sister, apparently, echoed, “Shoo, shoo, Fluff!” in a tiny voice.

“Is Fluff the dinosaur’s name?” Javier asked the children.

“Yes. He is a riding dinosaur, but you may not climb on the other ones. They are only for looking, not riding,” the princess responded. The little sister repeated, higher and smaller, “They are only for looking. Fluff for riding!”

“Well, thank you for telling us. Should we look out for any special dinosaurs here?” Javier continued. He had made himself level with the children’s faces. Vanessa was amazed at how quickly they warmed to him.

“Yes. My favorite is the Maiasaura. She has eggs and is protecting her nest from the mean dinosaurs so they don’t eat her babies. You can look at Maiasaura, but she will eat you if you try to climb down to the eggs.” The little one joined in again, “She eat you. Maiasaura mean dinosaur.” But the older child corrected, “No, she’s not mean, but she will eat mean guys.” The children went back to riding the red dinosaur, their small voices joining together to urge Fluff forward.

Javier thanked the children again and led Vanessa down the path. He re-twined their fingers and began to grin.

“What’s so funny?” Vanessa asked.

“It’s just that, in the brochures at the front, it says you can get married in the museum. I was wondering how many people have made their vows over a dinosaur named Fluff.”

Vanessa laughed, “Oh! Or if you’re Catholic, and you have to have the dinosaur blessed first so it’s an altar. I wonder if anyone’s ever done that? That would make Fluff a pretty holy dinosaur.”

“The rarest of all dinosaur species,” Javier said knowledgably.

“How?”

“Well, Fluff is a Sanctusaurus, of course.”

Vanessa laughed again. She imagined the old priest at Granny’s church knitting his brows at the thought of a dinosaur shaped altar used as a child’s toy. “I’ll have to put it on my list, then.”

“Your list?”

“Of places to get married. I’m pretty sure Fluff is the only sanctified dino-altar in the state. That deserves top five placement, at least.”

“What are the others?”

“Well, I used to have my home church on the list, but that’s not very practical anymore. That one was mainly for Granny, anyway, before she passed. Then there’s the beach at sunset, barefoot, of course; Duke Gardens under the wisteria, which is way too expensive to pull off; a cavern in Virginia where I went with Gabi’s family once, and here.”

“So, you imagine getting married surrounded by nature?”

“Hmm. I guess I do.”

They had reached the Maiasaura. Javier turned toward her, a serious expression on his face. “I must warn you, Vanessa. I have it on good authority that this dinosaur is not very nice and may eat you.”

“I promise not to provoke her, then,” Vanessa smiled. She tilted her head and took in the joy on Javier’s features. “You really love children, don’t you?”

“I do,” he beamed. “Most of the ones I see through my profession are not feeling their best, but I love them anyway, even the ones who are afraid of me,” he waggled his eyebrows, imitating a cartoon villain. “I have to give them shots,” Javier straightened his face into a quiet smile. “How about you?”

“Well, I would get arrested if I gave children shots,” she smiled when he laughed. “But I like children as well. We get a lot of little ones at the brewery. I love little kid sounds, their open expressions, and the way they move. Like they think maybe the world is going to shift suddenly, and every step is a happy surprise,” Vanessa swallowed and studied a small blue dinosaur stalking through the reeds along the path. She hoped that her eagerness to have children had not come out too strongly. She did not want to scare Javier off with hints of major commitment so soon.

“I think I understand,” Javier said, his voice closer to her ear than she expected. Vanessa looked up into his clear eyes. “Today, every step has been a happy surprise.”

Vanessa breathed to calm her racing pulse. He was so close that she could see each of his eyelashes separately which meant that she was staring. Realizing this, she looked away briefly, but regretted it when Javier pulled back a bit.

“Speaking of which,” he continued as though he had not been about to kiss her, “there’s one more surprise I want to show you here.”

From time to time, Javier steered her by the small of the back again, but he did not retake her hand. They walked through dappled shade past an area of water-play exhibits. Vanessa told him about Squeak’s Finnish coffee and Perla’s rugelach to pass the time and distract herself from wanting to touch him. They came up a small rise around a curve in the path.

Javier stopped in a patch of shade and turned to Vanessa. “Now, I want you to know before we get there, that I did not only bring you to see this exhibit so that you would be grateful and kiss me.”

“Then perhaps,“ Vanessa leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly, “I should kiss you now, so you know it’s not only from gratitude?”

“That’s a lovely start,” Javier smiled, looking over her face with admiration. He took her hand again as they walked forward.

“Lemurs!” Vanessa gasped when the exhibit came into view. She almost skipped the remaining steps to the overlook, pulling Javier along. Her joy bubbled into unconscious laughter at watching the lemurs climb around the trees in their habitat. She leaned her shoulder against Javier as she pointed out the lemurs’ antics. His presence felt so natural next to her, amplifying her happiness. In her enthusiasm, she hugged him.

She stepped back, surprised at the rush of warmth that raced up her back and through her chest when she leaned her face against him briefly in the hug. His muscles were strong and warm under his linen shirt. Vanessa felt a combination of excitement and fear course through her. This person who shared her childlike joy so easily was also all man——all attractive, intelligent man——and he made her feel swoony.

As if sensing her lightheadedness, Javier reached his arm around her waist. His touch did not make her feel more stable. Rather, the opposite. She suddenly felt weak in the knees and fell forward toward him slightly.

“Are you okay, Vanessa?” Javier’s voice rumbled in his chest under her ear.

“I will be in a moment. A bit too much excitement, maybe.”

She straightened up, and Javier offered her his arm, which she accepted gladly. They had walked a fair distance along the path when she laughed.

“Feeling better?” Javier asked gently.

“Yes, thank you. I was just thinking, it’s a good thing you didn’t kiss me. I might have fainted.” She started to regret her words immediately, hoping Javier did not think she meant he should not kiss her.

Javier slowed the pace and spoke softly, “I would have caught you.”

“Then I look forward to my next swoon.”

“Me, too,” Javier said. But he showed remarkable restraint, only taking her hand in his again. Vanessa comforted herself by noting an increase in his pulse through the fingers entwined with hers.

When they had reached the courtyard in the middle of the outdoor exhibits, Javier bought them both Locopops, Durham’s take on Mexican-style ice cream bars. The afternoon was waning quickly, and Vanessa began to regret having to end their date so early for the sake of foraging.

“I wish we had more time together,” Vanessa said. She looked up from her ice cream. It suddenly occurred to her that her remark might have seemed more suggestive than she had meant it, coming as it did between ice cream licks. “I mean, I have had so much fun with you this afternoon.”

“Good. Because you get to plan our next date.”

Vanessa smiled flirtatiously. “Okay, challenge accepted. Which half of Saturday do you have off this week?”

“The early half.”

“Cycling it is, then. Pick me up at my place. We’ll drive over and rent fixed gear bikes, and I’ll show you some of my favorite spots on the ATT.”

Javier’s eyes narrowed in question.

“The American Tobacco Trail. And if you’re not too booked to eat lunch afterward, I happen to know where we can have a free lunch at the trail’s end. I swap services with a bartender at Tyler’s.”

“I look forward to it,” Javier smiled. He finished his ice cream with a little more zest than was strictly needed, making Vanessa’s chest warm despite her own ice cream consumption.

They drove back to the brewery chatting lightly about the afternoon and Gabi’s luchadora matches. Javier was a lucha libre fan and never missed a match if he could help it. He confessed that he was fond of over-the-top forms of classic entertainment. Vanessa caught a fit of giggles when he accurately mimicked Gabi’s gestures from her mocking speeches before matches. She was still catching her breath when they pulled up in front of the brewery where several people had begun to mill about.

“Here we are,” Javier smiled. He stole a glance at her lips, and Vanessa was sure he was going to kiss her. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Vanessa smiled sincerely. “I very much enjoyed myself.”

He leaned toward her, so close that she could smell the citrus overtones of his popsicle-scented breath. Almost there. Vanessa felt her eyes begin to flutter closed in anticipation. At the last moment, she sensed movement out of the corner of her eye. One soft brush of his lips, one rush of tingles down her face and spine, and they were interrupted by the blare of a loud horn.

“Please move your vehicle so we can serve tortas to these fine people!” a strident voice called over the loudspeaker attached to the top of a taco truck. Vanessa caught her breath and looked up to see a line of hungry people glaring at them on the sidewalk.

“We’ll have to continue where we left off on Saturday,” Javier smiled apologetically. He got out of the car quickly and gestured “one moment” to the taco truck driver, whose head was sticking out the side window comically. Javier opened the door for Vanessa and held out his hand for her.

“Till Saturday,” she smiled. She stepped onto the pavement just before the Captain Poncho’s Taco truck pulled into the space where Javier had stopped.

“Órale, Vanessa!” a smiling man called from the service window of the truck. “Sorry for ruining your besos. You want a free taco de lengua to make up for it?”

“I guess, since I won’t get any other tongue today,” Vanessa grinned.

***

Vanessa related the date in full to Percy, who seemed unimpressed with its conclusion. “So, not a proper snog, then?” she frowned. “But at least you got a free taco.”

“A crummy consolation prize, if you ask me. I’m hoping for more action this Saturday when I take him for a bike ride into town.”

“What kind of action? Do you think he’ll pull you into the hedgerows and seduce you?”

“What have you been reading and or watching, Percy?”

“BBC America. Sci-fi, costume dramas. That sort,” Percy replied in a passable British accent.

“And in these films, people snog and seduce one another in hedgerows, is that it?”

“The lucky ones, yes,” Percy continued in her posh voice.

“Then let’s hope my Saturday is similarly lucky,” Vanessa answered in a hodgepodge accent that, as Percy skeptically noted later to Squeak, was actually more Scottish than English.

On Saturday morning, Vanessa wore her most flattering cycling top. It was a wicking fabric in leaf green that made her complexion glow and kept her cool. She wore cotton cargo shorts since they would be riding fixed gears on a trail. She remembered Percy’s words and considered packing a few condoms in the pockets in case of hedgerow seductions, but reconsidered. Maybe Vanessa had gone all the way with previous men on the second date, but she wanted to take a slower pace with Javier. She noted wryly that she had spent more time fantasizing about kissing Javier than she had ever thought of more intimate acts with other boyfriends. Not that she would let herself call Javier a boyfriend yet.

Javier picked her up promptly outside her building. He was wearing another linen shirt, apparently his fabric of choice, over nubby gray linen hiking shorts. Beneath the shorts, his strong calves lengthened down to a pair of newfangled sockless trainers. Vanessa felt herself staring at him again as he held open the passenger door for her. He looked positively delectable.

She buckled in and tried to think of a conversation topic other than his personal charms. “So, do you ride often, or am I your first?” Vanessa felt heat rise in her chest. “I mean, am I taking you on your first ride?” That wasn’t much better. “On a bike, I mean. In Durham,” she looked out the window, afraid he had sensed the direction of her besotted thoughts.

“You will be my first,” Javier replied, a smile in his voice. “No one has taken me for a ride before.”

Vanessa caught a twinkle in his eye as he watched the road. “Then it’s a good thing for you that you have me here. I can take you in hand and steer you in the right direction.”

Javier grinned in response. So he knew she was falling over her words, and he flirted back. That was promising.

“Where will we go today?” Javier asked innocently.

Vanessa decided to follow suit and described a route into downtown along the trail ending with lunch at the American Tobacco campus.

“It’s ironic, really, that tobacco funded such a healthy infrastructure,” Vanessa mused.

“Yes,” Javier replied sadly, “so many of my patients would be healthier if their relatives weren’t so addicted to smoking.”

Vanessa felt awkward that their date would be tangentially implicated in harming Javier’s patients. “I’m sorry, Javier. Maybe this date will have too painful associations for you.” She worried her lip, casting about for an alternative.

“No, don’t be sorry. We have to redeem the times. Let’s make the most of the tobacco companies’ repentance and the city’s largesse and use the facilities they have provided.”

“You sound like my Granny,” Vanessa blurted. Javier raised a brow in inquiry.

“She used to tell me that the highest mark of righteousness was accepting another person’s attempt to right a wrong, even if it was an inadequate attempt.”

“I remind you of your Granny,” Javier said, playfully.

“Not many people remind me of Granny.”

“A compliment, then,” his voice was sincere. “Thank you, Vanessa.”

When they arrived at the bike rental stand, it was closed. A sign informed them that the owner would return in fifteen minutes.

“We can wait in the air conditioning,” Javier smiled. “That is, if you don’t mind that I will have to idle the engine a little.”

“I think the environment will forgive us just this once. It’s such a hot day.”

“I can’t guarantee that the temperature in here won’t rise anyway,” Javier teased.

Vanessa turned toward him in her seat. She looked over his beautiful, masculine face, her eyes lingering on his supple lips. She leaned forward, and their gazes locked. Suddenly, Javier’s fingers wove through the hair at her neck. His face was an eye twinkle away from hers.

“That is, if you are not reminded too much of your grandmother to kiss me,” his voice was low and close enough that she could feel its vibrations in her body.

“Not at all,” she answered breathlessly.

Then her world turned hot pink and warm and wild, safe and dangerous at once. His lips pressed over hers firmly, possessively, and he caressed her neck with his hands. Vanessa swallowed her heart out of her throat. The thrill of his touch spiraled her through excitement to eagerness. She parted her lips slightly and kissed him back, exulting when she felt his lips part as well. They kissed deeply for a moment, until Vanessa felt Javier’s fingers touch her cheek. She opened her eyes to his intimate gaze. She was more than naked before him then, even though they were clothed, in broad daylight, in a public place. With a small, brave impulse, she decided to let him see what he would. She held his gaze, which seemed to ebb and flow with distant seas, the cadences of laughter and tears, the sounds of smiling and simplicity. They each gasped.

Javier moved his hand to her shoulder and sat up in his seat a little. He blinked a few times, slowly and as if in wonder.

“Did you-?” he groped for words. “Just now. I thought I saw a garden, and a warm blue robe like the night sky, and I heard a fiddle playing a sad and happy song, the kind that makes you dance.”

Vanessa nodded, unable to find words adequate to her experience.

They grinned and snickered, both self-conscious.

“That was some first kiss,” Javier smiled.

“You’re right,” Vanessa said playfully. “But just imagine what will happen if we practice.”

***

The women of Fructus listened with rapt attention to the details of Vanessa’s dates. Perla began to fan herself when Vanessa came to the amazing kiss in the parking lot. The rest of the date had been pleasant, but did not compare in the least with those few ecstatic moments when they had seemed to glimpse each other’s souls.

Gabi exaggerated her chewing motions when Vanessa finished. “Jeez, Nessa. I just thought you would be good in bed together, not that you two would form a cult or something.”

“It’s not a cult. It’s a mystical connection,” Carla chided. “That’s beautiful, mija,” she said to Vanessa. “You two are soul mates; that’s what I think. I’m going to get you a santo to help you along,” she smacked Gabi’s leg affectionately. “Remind me to give you a santo for Vanessa, okay?”

“I think Carla’s right,” Perla nodded. She was still fanning herself. “This man is the one for you, Vanessa.” She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled, “Yes. I see you two together. Dancing.”

“Just dancing? That doesn’t sound much like our Vanessa,” Squeak joked. “Are you sure that’s all they’re doing? Or is dancing a euphemism?”

“We are always all dancing, Brigit,” Percy said authoritatively. “But that’s not the part that interests me,” she smirked, teasing.

“What do you mean, mija?”

“I mean, dear Carla, that Vanessa has finally had a proper snog,” she finished in her posh accent.

Vanessa threw a pillow at Percy’s face, which the redhead batted away.

“And she made a man hear music,” Squeak smiled. “When’s your next practice, Vanessa? Shall we come along and play for you?”

“Play what?” Percy asked, intrigued.

“Banjo, of course,” Squeak blushed slightly. “I would have played for you before, but my hands were rather busy.”

“Get a room!” Gabi yelled, picking up the pillow and tossing it at Squeak, at the same time as Squeak exclaimed, “With crochet!”

Percy picked up a folded campus newspaper and pointed to the yarn-bombed statue on the front page. “James Duke needed a makeover. I think he’s best in summer colors, don’t you?”

“Really?” Vanessa humored. “I had always thought of him as more of a spring.”

“He’s an autumn. Those are chrysanthemums he’s wearing,” Perla teased. Squeak’s face reddened, but she was smiling.

“Besides,” Gabi continued, “you know Vanessa doesn’t want us there cramping her style. And how would Perla look, hauling a glass harp out to whatever nature-loving date place those two choose next?”

“Well, I could bring my psaltery instead!” Perla perked up. She had made Fructus endure an earth mother recital that she self accompanied with psaltery to celebrate the previous winter solstice.

“Thanks, Perla, Squeak, but I think I’ve got this covered. We’re meeting this week to have chocolate. If I can’t figure out how to kiss a sexy man while we’re having chocolate, then I’m beyond y’all’s help anyway.”