“Oh thank you dear, you are so sweet! Ira, where did you find such a lovely girl? She’s lovely.”
Brook kept a wide, innocent smile on her face while she shook her head, dismissing the compliment. “You’re hardly one to talk, Harriet. I can’t remember the last time I met someone as kind as you.”
Much to Brook’s satisfaction, the compliment seemed to fluster Ira’s great aunt. Thanksgiving dinner was almost over, and Brook had spent the entire meal flat-out impressing Ira’s family. Not for any particular reason—it was just useful to keep her networking skills in top form. And it wasn’t hard here. Most of the older family members—the over 70 crowd—had fallen in love with her as soon as she started complimenting them and asking them about themselves. Ira had been wrapped around her little finger almost since they first met and for some reason Jason seemed to be going that same route—so the younger generation was taken care of, too. She wasn’t as sure of Ira’s parents, though his dad did seem to warm up to her every time she made a football reference.
Marsha still wasn’t budging on the question of the sculptor though, and she obviously wanted Brook to drop the issue. The one member of the family that Brook actually did want something from was the only person presenting a real challenge.
She was here until Saturday. There was time yet.
“Do you cook, Brook?” Jason asked. He was sitting across from her, with his back toward the kitchen. He was squinting a little, because his seat faced the glass windows looking over the porch and the backyard and an orange winter sunset. The light was coming in almost sideways, and Brook was sure that by looking in her direction he was giving himself a very good view of the sun.
Normally Brook’s answer to that question would be something along the lines of, “Not while I have the money in my pocket to pay someone else to do a decent job of it.” That didn’t seem like the right answer for Ira’s family though, so instead she giggled and said, “Sometimes. Not as often as I’d like. We don’t eat in the dining room much at my house, so I usually either scrounge for food or eat out.”
From a few seats down, Ira spoke up. “Brook made crème brulée from scratch a couple weeks ago.”
Appreciative “oohs” filtered down the table.
“Crème brulée?” Jason leaned forward, his forearms folded in front of him on the edge of the table. “That’s impressive. I love crème brulée.”
“If you like it burnt through, then you would have loved the way I made it,” Brook said. The table laughed politely.
Jason just shook his head. “I’m sure it was delicious.”
“Well, speaking of dessert—it’s about time we cleared the plates away,” Ira and Jason’s mother said. She stood up from her seat near the kitchen door, and around the table a couple of people rose to help.
Brook stood, but Jason was faster. “No, I’ll get it,” he said, reaching for her plate. The sun was getting low; the sideways beams that had nearly blinded him when he was sitting barely shone on his face when he stood, bent over the table. Brook tried to protest that she wanted to help, but Jason snatched her plate away. “You’re the guest. Just relax until dessert comes.”
Something about the forceful tone in Jason’s voice gave Brook a weird sense of déjà vu. She frowned, sure that she had heard it before. It wasn’t the first time that some little thing about Jason had seemed familiar in the past couple of hours. That made sense, of course—he was Ira’s brother and there was definitely a resemblance. Still, Ira never spoke like that. Jason sounded insistent and sure of himself in a way that Brook couldn’t imagine Ira copying. It was very much Jason’s unique voice, but she was sure that she recognized it.
When Jason stood up straight, the low streaming sunlight only reached up as far as the bottom of his nose. It was an odd lighting situation, something that Brook couldn’t imagine any artist trying to capture, even though dawn and sunset had some of the best painting light. It was still beautiful in the moment. The top half of Jason’s face was in shadow, while his chin and slightly stubbly cheeks had a bright yellow-ish tint from the light. It made his lips look good. A little too orangey maybe, but they arched in a way that made subtle shadows, and when he smiled a little bit at his uncle—
Brook knew why Jason’s voice sounded familiar.
From down the table, Ira was asking her something about dessert. Brook couldn’t focus on the question. She realized that she was gripping the table tightly enough to strain her fingers. “I’m sorry, I have to—excuse me.” She tried not to run out of the room.
Once she had reached the guest room, Brook sat on the edge of the bed and tried to bring her breathing under control. Once she could think clearly, she had to work to keep herself from laughing, too. No wonder Ira hadn’t wanted her to meet his brother, or come down for Thanksgiving! He knew that she refused to tell Softstone anything about herself unless he was willing to do the same. The situation in these past few months must have been so weird for Ira!
On the table beside the bed there was a bird, about the size of a fist, made out of granite. When Brook had first seen it she had thought it looked clumsy and amateurish, like a child’s modeling clay sculpture—except that it had been chiseled from hard rock, so obviously it had required skill to make despite its clumsy appearance. That wasn’t true though, if the artist could make granite turn soft as butter. Brook shook her head, laughing a little bit at the situation.
There was a knock on the half-open door, and Jason stuck his head in. He looked worried, but with a tightness on his face like he was preparing himself for anything. “Are you—is everything all right?”
Brook stood up and smoothed her skirt. She looked at Jason and realized that he hadn’t really been acting too weird today, all things considered. “Softstone.” She said the word quietly, not far above a whisper.
Jason made a face that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. Then he tilted his head sideways and said, “Titania.” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Listen, I had no idea that you were the friend Ira was bringing home. When I saw you outside I was tot—”
He stopped talking when Brook kissed him.
In the next few seconds Brook wrapped her arms around Jason’s shoulders and he pressed one hand between her shoulder blades, with the other cupping the small of her back. His cheeks were scratchy and his lips were smooth, with just a slight tang of cranberry sauce on his breath. The superhuman strength that he held back to keep from crushing her made his body almost vibrate along his torso and shoulders, where Brook had pressed herself tight against him. The idea of that much power in human form used to freak Brook out, but knowing that Softstone could snap her in half if he wanted to didn’t matter as much right now as the fact that he was very carefully modulating his strength for her comfort and safety. He wasn’t a bad kisser either. He was exactly her height, and even though all of Brook’s kissing experiences involved guys taller than her, she decided that she could get used to not having to stretch.
Neither one of them remembered to breathe at first, so when they finally did stop for air they were both gasping to fill their lungs. Brook eased back, her hands sliding to Jason’s forearms while his lowered to the top of her hips. They stood with their foreheads pressing, both smiling and breathing heavily, for a minute or two.
“We need to get back,” Jason finally said, softly, “before someone comes looking for us.”
Brook sighed, then grinned. “You have any plans tonight?”
The question made Jason return her grin, and then scrub a hand across the bottom of his face. “Well, it looks like I have an incident report to put together and send off to my boss, but after that I’m free—and at your service.”
Brook kissed him on the cheek. “Did I just get you in trouble?”
Jason considered. “I hope not.” Then he laughed. “Ira accidentally helped me out by bringing you here. If I had gone around campus looking for you, costume-free, and you had figured it out, I would be in trouble.” He added in a whisper, “And it took some serious self-discipline to stop myself from doing that, you know.”
“I would have been harder to find than you think.”
“I was surprised when I went to the play and you weren’t there. I definitely broke the rules that night. I was so bummed when Titania walked out on the stage and looked nothing like you!”
That made Brook laugh. “I’m sneaky, aren’t I?” The she stepped back. “You need to get back out there. I’ll join again in a minute.”
“What should I tell them?” Jason asked.
“I was feeling a little dizzy, and needed to catch my breath.”
“Are you feeling dizzy?”
Brook smiled. “Just a little.”
(Continue with Deena's story.)
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