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“Dancing.” He could feel her looking at him. “Even at the end? They were dancing?”
“Yeah, but you had to see it, Bon. These guys were like shells of men, their bodies so thin you wondered how they had the strength to move.”
“But obviously they did have the strength, or they wouldn’t have been able to dance.”
She’d know about that, having been a dancer for years before she’d stopped to study early-childhood education.
“Yeah.” Elbows on his knees, Keith stared down a particular feisty flame.
“I think that’s inspiring. Like they weren’t going to quit until it was over.”
“So you think it would be okay to broadcast?”
“Of course!”
Keith turned his head to see Bonnie frowning at him. “Don’t you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” More so now.
“What did Martha have to say about it?”
“Pretty much the same thing you did.”
“I’m not surprised. We think a lot alike.”
Keith nodded.
He’d noticed that, too.
SHANE BELLOWS’S HEART sped up as he walked down the deserted hallway in Little Spirits. A light was still on in the playroom. That meant Bonnie was there.
According to the note he’d left on his mirror last night, she’d mentioned that she planned to move the reading corner to the other side of the room today.
He could help.
He could talk to her.
“Hi,” he said, trying to force his voice to respond to the commands he was giving it—trying to sound the way he had when he’d spoken to her during high school.
She’d wanted him then.
Facing a ceiling-high shelf, her arms full of the books she was pulling down, Bonnie turned to look at him over one shoulder.
“Hi, Shane.” Her easy grin settled so much of the uncertainty that was constantly there inside him.
He wanted to grin back, but was afraid his mouth would get that crooked hitch that came and went for no reason he could figure out. He didn’t want her to see that stupid look. Not ever.
“I can help,” he said, keeping his words to a minimum, as he always did around her. He hated the way his speech slowed and slurred. He’d never get used to that.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “You’ve been working all day.”
“So have you.”
She’d let him stay. She always did. And she always talked to him. Bonnie was the only person in his hometown who still treated him like a man.
She didn’t smother him with the pity that stripped him of what little pride he had left.
He removed some books from the shelves, taking care to keep his movements slow so he could control them. Bumbling around in front of Bonnie was humiliating.
“It’s not quitting time for you yet, is it? You’ve still got your own work to do,” she said, her brows knitting together as she watched him.
“I got it done.” So that he’d have this time with her. He’d come in early, rearranged the order of a couple of jobs to be more efficient. He’d figured that out on his own and was really proud of himself that it had worked.
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