Ellie's Advice (sweet romance) (4 page)

She picked up her story
. "On the surface, that letter is rather simple and… and even childish. A new hat is not the most important thing in the world. But the heart of that girl shows, I think, a remarkable sensitivity. She clearly wanted to do the right thing.

"
Mrs. Lawrence answered rather glibly that if her grandparents wouldn't buy it for her, she should just do without. That was of course correct. The adult world is full of disappointments, and one cannot be shielded from them forever. But Mrs. Lawrence seemed to have no actual sympathy for the young woman, as if she herself had never longed desperately for something at that age, something that would make her fit in and feel good about herself, so that she could stand up proudly among her peers. That's terribly important to girls at that age, you know."

She glanced at him, wondering suddenly where all of these words had come from, when she was normally so shy. Would he think her a hopeless chatterbox?

But he was nodding slowly to her words, a thoughtful, intent look on his face. "I see what you mean. I didn't notice at the time, but you're right. Sympathy for the girl, as well as the advice, would have been more on the mark. Hmm." He ran a hand back through his hair.

He was still holding his hat, she noticed, as if he had forgotten about it
entirely. Would he leave it off the whole time? Surely etiquette didn't demand that. Not that she had gone walking with gentlemen enough to know what etiquette demanded.

He glanced at her and smiled. "I think you
're very wise indeed, Miss Goldman."

And somehow the warmth of his smile, and the gentle acceptance and regard of his voice, gave her the courage to quite boldly say, "Please, call me Ellie. Since we shall be working together, I think it would feel much more comfortable!"

His smile grew wider. "I… I thank you." Now his cheeks were heating again. He was such a gentleman. She loved him for it in this moment, for being embarrassed by such a small thing as her name. "Ellie. In that case, will you do me the honor of calling me Shel?"

She smiled back.
"Thank you, Shel. I'd love to."

They'd stopped walking once again, and
stood staring at each other, their gazes bright and warm. Overhead, two birds began to sing what sounded like a love song. Ellie and Shel looked away from one another quickly and continued their slow, stately walk.

Despite her blushes, her heart soared; she felt as though she could fly at least as high as those birds, as if nothing could touch her or harm her
, could ever make her feel afraid or sad again.

This beautiful man beside her
— Shel — was now on a first name basis with her. No, more than that, on a friendly nickname basis. And he thought she was wise, elegant, and worth listening to. What in the world could be better than that?

They rounded another gentle bend on the paved park path, talking quietly. Ellie stopped short in the middle of a sentence.

"What…?"

They both stopped and stared. In the little duck pond that lay ahead floated a bobbing dark sack.

"Oh dear," said Mr. Silverberg
— Shel. "I think…"

Without conscious plan, she reached for his arm. "Is that…"

A moving sack. A sack that probably held kittens someone had tossed in to drown. Some cruel person who hadn't even waited to see they were dead, simply left them to suffer.

"Oh." Her
eyes filled with tears. "How terrible!"

Shel moved away from her touch, and she realiz
ed he was stripping off his jacket. He handed it and his hat to her, then his wallet and watch. With a determined look on his face, he kicked off his shoes and waded into the cold duck pond. A few nearby ducks feeding on the grass quacked at him, as if surprised to see a man take their place.

He waded in, rolling up his sleeves as he went. Ellie could only stare. Even with the weight of poor d
rowning animals hanging over them, she couldn't help but notice the beautiful shape of him. The image stuck and stayed in her head: this man wading through cold water, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, head bare, determination in his every line. There was no denying how strongly the sight affected her. This image would forever afterwards represent masculinity to her.

She moved forward
carrying his jacket, still warm from his firm shoulders. "Be careful!" she called, nonsensically because he clearly was being careful. But he looked so set on his goal, as if nothing could ever stop him; it made her heart flutter with concern for him. As well as beat hard for quite another reason.

"I am," he said, sounding as though he spoke
through gritted teeth. "Almost… there." He grasped the sack and tugged, lifting it from the water, then turned and hurried back toward the shore, lifting the sack high and walking so fast he pushed a wave in front of him. It rose up, wetting his chest higher and higher. The look on his face was one of frowning concentration and ferocious indignation. He was at least as strongly affected by the sight of the drowning animals as Ellie was, although it didn't affect him in the same way.

What would I have done if I was alone?
There was simply no way she could have physically done what he did, so would she have stood there, watching, crying helplessly, or called someone to help — someone who might think it was perfectly natural to drown baby animals, and probably too late to help them anyway?

I
f he wasn't here….

But
even now it might be too late. She hurried to meet him as he moved onto the grass. His clothing clung to him in a distracting way that made her look away and blush, uncomfortable with the fact that she was seeing the outline of his body so clearly.

He was on his knees in an instant
, and there was no more time to feel self-conscious. He ripped open the sack and pulled out…

Puppies.

"Oh." She stared. They were so young. It looked as though their eyes were still closed. Or else…

"Hand me my jacket," he said, and she did. He scrunched it on the ground and laid them on the dry cloth, ignoring the fact that it looked like a good jacket, not
something to get filthy.

The puppies were d
readfully still, lying limp as dead rats. All but two. These struggled weakly, opening tiny mouths, uttering whining barks. They held their blunt muzzles raised, little paws trembling as they fought against their rescuer. Shel handled the pups gently, and looked up at Ellie. His hair was plastered against his forehead with sweat, and the rest of it curled up wildly, as disarrayed as if done on purpose. His face was grave with the intensity of what he'd done. "We must get them somewhere warm."

"Of course."
She hesitated. "I only live three blocks away. We could take a taxi if that's not close enough to walk."

He hesitated only an instant,
then nodded. "I think we can walk it faster, and we can keep them warm in my coat." He bundled the live puppies close, regretfully putting the others back in the sack. "I'll have to take these with me so a child doesn't find them."

"Yes," she agreed, holding out her hands for the puppies wrapped in his jacket. The bundle wobbled slightly as the animals continued to fight
. It was only this fight that had let them survive, so she couldn't begrudge their anger. The little creatures couldn't know they would likely be dead without Shel's help.

He handed the
living bundle to her, and she clutched it close. He pulled his shoes on quickly and clapped his hat back on his head, then picked up the sack of the poor dead pups. "Shall I carry them?" he asked, nodding to the squirming jacket she held.

She shook her head. "I believe I'm warmer."

He nodded. "Lead the way."

They walked quickly from the park and down the street. She kept an eye out for a taxi, but the traffic was moving slowly this Sunday, and they likely could still walk faster even if they found one. After bit, she stopped looking.

"I hope we're not going too fast for your health," he said awkwardly after a moment. He kept pace with her easily, and she wondered if she shouldn't be walking faster. But it would be dreadful to go so fast she tripped and dropped the small creatures, injuring them after they'd already survived so much.

"I'm fine," she said a little breathlessly. "I hope you won't catch a chill!"

He laughed awkwardly. "You must think I'm quite the impulsive fool for jumping in like that."

She
glanced at him, startled. "No! I could never think that. You were very brave."

"Oh. Well." He didn't seem to know what to say now. And were his cheeks heating? "
I wasn't brave. I simply can't stand to see something small and weak hurt. I suppose it's some instinct necessary for if I ever become a father."

You mean you're not? Are you not married
then, either?

She pushed th
e inappropriate thoughts away. Now she could think of absolutely nothing to say. Fortunately they arrived at her brownstone and hurried up the steps into the building. He was still dripping, but not as badly, and she didn't hesitate to hold the bundle out to him as she fetched her key.

The neighbor's door cracked open and a pair of prying eyes gaze
d at her judgmentally while she and Shel slipped inside her apartment. She turned on the kitchen light and moved quickly to the heater, to turn it up. Then she fetched him a fuzzy blanket to wrap the pups in. "Shall I warm some milk for them? They look far too young to be away from their mother."

"Yes, I think you're right." He sounded more awkward than ever now. "I…
you must know I would never have… invited myself in this way, if…"

"Don't be silly." She waved a hand. "Mrs. Jansen will find something to gossip about me whatever I do
— or don't do. And these puppies are far more important than what she thinks."

She fetched a small glass bottle of cream from the fridge. It was fresh, brought in twice a week for cooking and coffee. Fortunately it was nearly full. She grabbed a small pot and poured some of it in to heat. "I'll have to order more cream from now on," she sa
id without thinking. Her voice sounded so ridiculously light and happy.

Am I?
she wondered.
Yes. I am.
Happy because of the two puppies living, or happy because she was spending time with Shel Silverberg?
Both. Both!

She turned to
him and smiled. "Unless you plan to take care of them instead?"

"Um."
He ran a hand back through his disheveled hair, blinking behind his glasses. "I don't think I can. I live alone, and I'm at work most of the day."

Her smile broadened. "Well. I'll just have to assume their care, then." She turned to th
e stove quickly to busy herself, and so that he wouldn't see how delighted she was. He mustn't suspect it was as much about him living alone as it was the pups.

He must be single, he must!
Unless his wife lives in another country and he's waiting for her to join him…

The thought dampened her mood somewhat
, but she pushed it away as best she could. There was at least a chance this way.

W
hat am I thinking? How could he possibly be as interested in me as I am in him? He must meet many women who appeal to him more and aren't sickly.

And yet… and yet she could swear she
'd seen regard and interest in his gaze several times already. Yes, it was surely too soon to think of more, but there was no denying they sometimes seemed unable to stop staring at one another, as if they were gawky teenagers newly struck with first love.

It was reasonable to wonder if he was interested in her.
Reasonable to wish it, even if she was too old or too sickly, even if it never happened. It made sense for her to have these feelings, because she'd finally met a man she found attractive both inwardly and outwardly, and who didn't seem to have any ulterior motives or want anything from her.

The heart had its own rules about these things, and her heart had definitely spoken; Shel was the man she wanted.
She knew too much about life to assume that would mean anything in the long run, but she was not going to hide from these feelings. She would feel them, and love him, and live with the consequences if he didn't feel the same way.

A woman like Ellie
didn't get to marry and live happily ever after, except perhaps in fairy tales. A sickly, aging spinster with poor health could never end up with such a kind, virile, and brave man: but her heart could dream, couldn't it?

*

Shel held the pups close, but they were still damp and shivering. The apartment was heating quickly, and Ellie was warming food for them, but it wasn't enough.

"A water bottle," he said suddenly. "Do you have a water bottle?"

"Oh! Yes, of course." She turned off the stove with a quick flick of her delicate wrist and hurried from the room, not needing him to explain what he meant. She hadn't taken off her coat, and she looked amazingly elegant and proper, hurrying away from him in her tasteful clothes and shoes. He couldn't help watching, noticing her with the admiration he'd felt since their first meeting.

Would it get any easier, when he worked with her every week?

The longing in his heart didn't seem to be going anywhere. It touched him that she was as deeply affected about the animals as he was, and had volunteered to take care of them so quickly, as if it was simply the natural thing to do. He couldn't imagine Judith behaving at all like that.

It felt disloyal to think such things, but it was the truth. She would hav
e never gone for a walk with Shel, especially on such a day. She didn't much care for purposeless walking, and would not have liked the cool weather. Then if they had walked, she wouldn't have talked to him so calmly and openly about the things she was thinking about. He'd have had to guess, or keep silent. Then, if he rescued drowning puppies, she'd have been angry with him for getting his clothes dirty. If he'd wanted to take any puppies home or have her help caring for them, she'd have thought he was out of his mind.

The excuse about having children had just slipped out. He thought now that it was a foolish thing to say, though he did think it; the small and young were supposed to raise an instinctively protect
ive feeling in adults, to help ensure the survival of the species. The way a mother bear would protect her cubs was supposed to be the way parents felt about their children; and for the greatest safety, ideally, every adult in the species would feel that protective toward young humans. Of course this was not an ideal world, but the instincts were definitely in him, even enough to spill over onto other helpless beings, such as these puppies.

Or perhaps it was the way he'd been
raised, good parenting bringing out the side of him that was protective and nurturing. Either way, just because he believed that didn't mean he had to say such a hopelessly strange thing aloud to the woman he… was quite attracted to.

He
glanced up as she came back, looking rather breathless. Some tendrils of her scarlet hair had escaped from under her frilly hat. He couldn't help thinking how adorable she looked at just that moment. Then he dropped his gaze quickly, so he wouldn't be caught staring yet again.

She held a silvery water bottle with
a red felt protector wrapped around it. She bent down beside him, handing it to him. He looked up into her face, and in that moment, something shifted inside his heart, something that felt permanent. It was no doubt silly at his age, but felt so very true. There was no turning back now. He'd barely met her, it would likely never work, but this, this was the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. For the first time he understood the overwhelming feeling of love that he'd thought was exaggerated when others talked or sang or wrote about it.