I have the urge to offer a reassuring hug to the older man. Instead, I say, “Arthur, please take another couple of days off. I promise your job and insurance will be here when you return.”
At that, Connor and I go back outside, even though I’d like to march over to Regina’s office and give her a piece of my mind—unless she’s in my office. But why would she be?
We climb a gentle hill, passing historic buildings, cottages, and Bavarian-style structures.
Connor pauses by a plaque outside of a home that’s several hundred years old. “You might laugh, but I’ll let you get awaywith it for not knowing what the expressionguinea pigmeant. But what does this mean?” He points to a word on the sign.
“That’s a Concordian word, meaning historic but also sacred, I guess you might say. This home is believed to have hosted one of the early missionaries who originally brought the Bible to this island, so it must always be preserved.” I go on to give him a brief history of the area and how they open up historic sites on certain weekends for locals, tourists, and people taking pilgrimages. I also teach him a few words native to the Concordian dialect.
“That’s incredible to have such reverence. Every time I return to North Carolina, I hardly recognize my hometown, things change so fast. I guess, considering you know Concordian, French, and English, I can’t give you too hard a time about not knowing the expression guinea pig.” His eyes sparkle with mirth.
“Concordia only has a few words of its own and my English is just fine, thank you.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. Upon leaving France, I had a handle on the language but made it my mission to be completely fluent.
“That’s what I was saying.”
Affronted, I add, “I’m sure there are words in English that you don’t know.” I turn away from the sign and face him. “Mellifluous,for instance.”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic. But mellifluous? As in your voice is mellifluous. Try again.” He nudges me with his elbow.
I try to conceal the tremble from his touch. “Ineffable.”
He holds up his hands. “Easy there. That doesn’t sound polite.”
“Do you know the word?” I challenge.
He tilts his head, then his lips quirk. “It means ‘too great to be expressed in words.’”
Connor steps closer, gazing out at the vista. Warmth emanates from his skin. “Ineffable, much like this view.” Then, in a lower register, he says, “Like you.”
This renders me speechless, in any language.
A moment passes and then another as we stand side by side. I’ll admit, I’m a bit discombobulated. I bet he can spell that word, no problem.
“I was the spelling bee champion in grade school. Memorizing the definitions helped me remember how to spell the words.”
“Connor, despite how immature you can be at times, I cannot picture you as a child. It’s like you were born this big.”
He chuckles. “Not even close.”
When we start to climb the hill again, I feel off-kilter, out of step, and like my heart is beating at a different tempo than it ever has before.
“Oh, I meant to say earlier, thanks for not cutting my head off in all of those pictures.”
“Even if I did, I do have one to paste back on. I found it on the bottom of my computer mouse.” I dig around in my purse and pull it out, sticking it on his shirt.
He barks a laugh. “You’re Cat and you caught a mouse. Get it, a computer mouse.”
I briefly recall Arthur’s comment about Regina in my office. “That’s the corniest joke I’ve ever heard.” All the same, I can’t help but laugh.
“Also, keep the photo so you can gaze lovingly at me while you work.” Connor passes the picture back to me and our fingers brush, sending my heart a pitter-patter.
“Shall we call a truce?” he asks.
I tip my head from side to side as though considering it. “You called me Shorty.”
“You’re shorter. I’m taller. That’s all.” He fights a smile as if gauging how far to push.
“Yes, you’re tall,” I say when I stop in front of a building with another historic plaque, but I don’t agree to call a truce. Not just yet.
