Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
FIERCE
W hen my ama and aunts arrive at the door, Felicity and I are dressed and happy, pink-cheeked, and casting glances of love in each other’s direction. Ama bustles in with her sisters and sisters-in-law behind, staring long at Felicity before exclaiming in Basque, “She is beautiful, my son. Healthy, robust, and with good childbearing hips.”
I roll my eyes, thanking my lucky stars that Felicity doesn’t understand.
“She is perfect,” I agree in Basque, winking in her direction as Felicity’s face flushes and her eyes flood with confusion.
My aunts giggle, gossiping among themselves as they bustle around the room, their arms laden with casserole dishes and cookware filled with mouthwatering treats. Felicity offers to help several times, even in French, but my aunts shoo her away, determined to spoil her, it seems.
The smell of tomatoes and garlic fills the air as I spy casserole containers filled with Pintxos, Red Tuna, Fish Stew, and Bayonne Ham. There’s a jar of my aunts’ prized Itaxassou black cherry jam, Rough the more I consume, the more I need.
Her eyes dance as I wrap my arms around her, trying to read her face. She observes, “This spread is a feast.”
“It is,” I say, eyeing the table proudly. “They’ve gone all out for us.”
“Where do we start?” she asks breathlessly.
“You will start on my lap,” I say, playfully nipping at her neck and showering her décolletage in tender kisses. “And I will feed you, introducing you to the foods of my homeland, which I imagine you know more about than me, having lived in Pau.”
“Some of this does look very familiar,” she observes with a big grin.
“But first, I’ll pour us some wine and light some candles because, as you already know from your time in France and the Basque Country, these meals take hours.”
The evening passes slowly with Felicity perched on my big legs, feeding each other various dishes and indulging in the experience of sustaining each other.
Her face fills with rapture as I tear off a chunk of homemade bread, slathering it in black cherry jam and bringing it to her mouth for a bite.
“It’s good, non?”
“Delicious,” she says, closing her eyes and savoring it.
We dive into the Red Tuna casserole, cooked with onions, herbs, tomatoes, and white wine, savoring our fruity glasses of red in between. Then, Fish Stew and the delectable Bayonne Ham. As we eat, something weighs more and more upon me. Why this gourmet spread? How did Ama know Felicity would arrive? We never eat like this in one sitting except for holidays.
Felicity palms my cheeks, turning my face towards hers. “You look deep in thought. What’s wrong? Tired?”
“I should be,” I say seductively, grinning at her and enjoying the way her thumbs dance over my dimples, followed by her lips. Even more than lovemaking, her tenderness towards me captures my heart. I never anticipated the warmth in her eyes or how she would cherish every part of me.
I hand-feed a small slice of sheep’s milk cheese to her, enjoying the way her sexy, generous lips part, and her tongue teases over my fingertips, inviting me to more carnal pleasures later.
“Oh my goodness, that’s delicious! I haven’t had cheese this amazing since living in France. Where did you get this?”
I smile broadly despite the sudden heaviness weighing down my heart. “I made it.”
“You made this? My gosh, Fierce, you weren’t lying when you said you make delicious cheese.”
I shrug humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”
She levels her gaze on me. “Something’s wrong. Tell me what it is.”
I shake my head. “This has all been much easier than I thought it would be. Oddly, strangely, unbelievably easy. That’s all.”
“Your family has been very welcoming. Of course, I know very little of what’s being said. What did your mom and the other women say about me earlier? I could tell I was the topic of conversation because of the way they eyed me.”
I laugh deep in my chest, my face flushing from the wine and the topic of conversation. “Do you want the truth? Or something that will make you happy?”
“You already know the answer to that, Fierce.”
I scratch my head, biting my lip. “They were admiring your good childbearing hips.”
Her eyes round, her mouth purses, and her face flushes beet red. “Seriously?”
I shrug. “I told you. They are old-fashioned. Very traditional. But they like you. That’s all that matters.”
“What matters is that I like you,” she says, nuzzling my neck, her voice relaxed with the wine.
“No stepping back now, Firefly. You told me you loved me earlier, remember?”
“How can I forget?” she says, her eyes welling. “I don’t deserve you, though…” Her gaze flickers to the ground.
“And I don’t deserve you,” I reply, snagging her chin with my finger and returning her gaze to me. “Ask around town, and they’ll tell you I’m a disagreeable bully. I’ve even been in fistfights with the current sheriff.”
Her big, blue doe eyes stare unblinkingly at me. “Really? The sheriff of Gold County?”
I nod.
“Do you have a criminal record you haven’t told me about?”
“Thankfully, no. But I am a rough man who settles most things in life with my fists and earns my wages off the muscle of my back and my legs. You are refined and educated, a big-city girl who writes and impresses the hell out of me. I don’t even know why you’re sitting on my lap. But I have enough brains not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
She smiles, her straight, pearly teeth shining.
“I want to read some of your articles, by the way,” I say, feeling my heart race. “Is working for a newspaper your ultimate goal? Or is there something else?”
The corners of her mouth turn down. “Nobody ever asks me that.”
“Well, I want to know everything about you.”
Her eyes cloud with tears.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “Going back to your last question, I would love to be a full-time travel writer specializing in cultural anthropology books with lots of gorgeous pictures. You know, about places like Mason Valley, Nevada, and people like the Numu of Pyramid Lake or even the Basque in Elko, Nevada.”
“Then, joining my family will be perfect. Killing two birds with one stone. Perhaps you’ll fit in better with my family than I will with yours. We haven’t even crossed that bridge yet.”
“My family will love you,” she says quietly. Her eyes dart from mine, and her face grows conflicted.
My throat tightens. Maybe I’m reading in her expression a reflection of what I feel inside: guilt. I’ve kept a secret from her this whole time. One I don’t know if I can find the words to reveal, but I have to now before things progress any further.
Clearing my throat, I look down at my big, rough hand gripping her thigh, adding quietly, “I would love to read your books someday, too. You’ll have to help me, though. While I did graduate high school…” I take a deep breath to fortify myself. “I’m not a very strong reader. I hope you can overlook that despite being a writer. See, I told you I’m not a very smart man.”
Felicity takes my cheeks in her hands, her eyes brimming with tears. “That would never change how I feel about you, Fierce. Besides, you speak three languages fluently and in fast succession every day. There’s no doubt in my mind how smart you are.”
I frown. “The doctors say I have dyslexia. All I know is letters aren’t where other people see them. It makes everything confusing. But if you agree to be my brains, I’ll be your brawn. Just please promise not to tell others about this.”
“Of course not,” she says, biting her bottom lip hard. “You’ve been so honest and forthright with me, Fierce.” She shakes her head, looking away.
“What’s wrong?”
Fanning her face with her hand, Felicity excuses, “I think the wine is getting to me. I feel hot.”
“In that case,” I say, patting her thigh to let her know it’s time to get up, “Let’s move on to the next part of our evening.”