Twenty

His speech and grammar improved throughout the day. Before long, he was speaking in simple but complete sentences. After supper that night, he helped her haul the rowboat, which was housed in a shed behind the cottage, down to the river. As they watched the bottom of the boat fill with water, he stated, "The boat leaks - need pine-tar pitch to fix leak."

She looked at him with amazement on her face; the elation in her voice betrayed the ordinary words she spoke, "I'll see about getting some tomorrow."

Together, Matt and Kitty pulled the boat back out of the water and tipped it over so it could drain. They picked up their fishing poles, which were leaning against the shed, and headed over to the birch grove. He had dug for night crawlers that afternoon, stating simply,"no worms, no fish." Dillon held the tin can filled with dirt and active worms like it was a rare treasure.

They sat down under the leafy shade, to avoid the blazing setting sun. Without comment, he baited her hook first, and then his own. "Tonight we catch fish," He promised.

"Fish for breakfast," she concurred.

On the far side of the river Beaumont Davis, was trying his luck at fishing as well. He saw the pair under the birch trees and apparentlydecided to cast his line for a different quarry. For in no time at all he had rowed to their side of the bank.

When he was close enough to converse, without speaking to the entire river community, he did so. "Mrs. Kent, did you receive my invitation."

Kitty stood up and walked to the river's edge. "Yes, I did Mr. Davis, and I must decline your offer."

"But why, my dear? I apologize again for the disruption to yesterday's visit. Though I try hard to ignore it, business does have a way of disturbing pleasure." He smiled, and she noticed again how brilliantly white his teeth were. Perhaps it was just the angle of the setting sun, which highlighted them so.

"My brother needs me. He's my priority. But, I thank you for the thought. Please extend my apologies to your Grandmother."

He looked crestfallen; "All the same, I'll send Sebastian around with the carriage tomorrow afternoon, just in case you change your mind."He picked up his oars and paddled away before she could voice objection.

She returned to Matt's side. "Don't like." He said.

"You don't like Mr. Davis."

"Bad man." He stated simply.

"Why do you say that?"

"Sun teeth."

"Sun teeth? Oh, you mean they shine like the sun?"

"White sun teeth."

"Well you can't just dislike someone because they have clean white teeth. That doesn't make them bad. I like to think my teeth are clean and white. You like me, don't you?"

A swell of frustration surged, she wasn't listening to what he was saying. With the immediacy of a bullet wound, pain shot through his skull. He linked his hands behind his neck and cradled his head tightly in his arms. He grimmaced, as the ache grew in intensity, "Shoe." His voice was laced in agony. "Kick head …shoe ... sun teeth … white … laugh … laugh … me … head … shoe …" Disjointed words were spilling from his mouth.

She stared at him, mouth agape. Color left her face. Her heart stopped beating for a moment and then pounded with the intensity of a military band, as his words hit home.

He stumbled to his feet and ran with awkward gait to the cottage. She followed, leaving poles and worms behind. She caught up with him in the kitchen, but he pushed her away - the throbbing in his head blocking everything but the image of sun teeth and fine leather shoes.

He staggered to his room and collapsed on his bed, curling himself in a fetal position; he rocked and moaned with each anguished spasm.

She stood over him. Shaking, sweat pouring from her body. "Matt! Oh Matt …" She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying with his agony. "How can I help? What can I do?" Came her muffled sob, but even as she said the words, she knew, she had the power to end his pain. With surprisingly steady hand, she extracted an oblong pill from her pocket and forced it down his throat.