Chapter Seventy-Nine

Strolling down the middle of Beach Street arm in arm between the vendor tents lined up on each side of the street, Trapper and Leah perused the wares on either side of them. At least, Trapper did. Leah was somewhere else.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Hm? I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Look, if you don't want to do this, we can do something else."

She smiled and bowed her head. "No, this is fine. I just can't help but wonder what's going to pit us against each other next at the hospital."

Stopping abruptly, he moved his arms around her waist. "Nothing, if we don't allow it. Now, we aren't supposed to be thinking about work."

"One more thing first." She tiptoed and pressed her lips into his.

With his mouth turned up on one side, looking from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes, he asked softly. "What was that for?"

"That was an apology. I didn't even think about sharing Angela with you."

Bending his head down, he kissed her back, then quickly tightened his arms around her, kissing her deeply, passionately.

"Trapper," she said, out of breath. "People are staring."

"I don't care," he said, smiling and continuing his kiss until he found her hand. Looking into her eyes, he took a satisfied breath, and then turned and held her hand as they walked on down the street.

"Is there something particular you're looking for today?"

"Mm hm."

"Care to share."

"That's a little hard. I have a Qing dynasty vase and a few smaller pieces from the same period, but they look lonely in their corner. I need something large to put behind them…to set them off."

"Did you come up with that yourself, or did a decorator-type tell you that?"

Laughing, he said, "Something somewhere in between." Passing his hand around at the wares in front of them, he asked, "And would you by chance be looking for something…different?"

"Oh, no," she chuckled. "You seem to forget I have a huge storage space full of stuff." She stopped and looked away thoughtfully. "From a lifetime ago." Quickly turning back, she added, "Some of it is worth a pretty penny. You should take a look at it. There might be something you could use."

"I don't know about that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in my home. Something from your past might dredge up…memories."

"You're the one who said memories aren't necessarily a bad thing."

"I did. Over time. And in small doses." He moved his hand to the small of her back and guided her into a shop that specialized in Asian baubles, statues and furniture.

Each took a different route through the store, bending, ducking or tiptoeing to look at items without touching. The prices tags were rather hefty. Finally Leah stopped in front of a five panel screen. The frame was dark wood, she thought maybe mahogany, and the screens were a hard red material with images carved in different semi-precious stones. She looked closely at it before she slowly backed away, and sucked in a breath when she bumped into someone.

"That's quite a piece," said Trapper.

Inhaling deeply to catch her breath after her startle, she eventually said, "It's…bright…and unusual. I mean, look at the detail of the carvings. And what is this red stuff? It's looks hard."

Gently taking her hand before she touched the material, he answered, "It's cinnabar lacquer."

"Cinnabar? Isn't that mercury?"

"That's why the sign says 'Look, but don't touch,'" he said, nodding toward a plaque sitting on a table next to the screen.

"And they can sell it?"

"It's not harmful unless you touch it with bare skin. You have to wear gloves to handle cinnabar." He moved closer, looking at the carvings and pointing. "These are jade…coral…rosewood…ivory and tortoise shell. It's mid-to-late 18th century." Crossing his arms, he propped his chin in his hand. "The color would fade in light, and the cinnabar would deteriorate. That's why it's back here away from the windows." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "That corner is pretty dark. Even so, the red would brighten it, and the other pieces are light, so they'd stand out against the red."

"You're not seriously thinking about this are you? It's mercury," she said skeptically.

"I don't plan on making a habit of touching it."

She gingerly turned the price tag. "Well, that might change your mind," she said, leaning toward him, slowly turning and walking to the other side of the store. By the time she turned to look back, the Asian man who had been standing behind the counter had moved next to Trapper, both men speaking in hushed whispers. Shaking her head, she continued to browse, but after another five minutes had passed, she turned and looked for him again. She found him standing at the counter. Her eyebrows went up when she saw him pull out his checkbook.

When he turned, he stopped and looked at her with an amused expression before he went to her. "Find anything you like?" he asked.

"Lots…but not enough to take out my checkbook. Did you buy the screen?"

"Yep," he said, guiding her out the door.

"Just tell me if it's none of my business, but did you pay the price on the tag?"

"First rule of purchasing antiquities from a store…never pay full price. I've been looking at that screen for a long time, and he knew it. And when I saw you were drawn to it, you confirmed what I already thought about it."

She dropped her forehead into her hand, then with a flourish and a smile said, "Glad I could help."

"Are you hungry?" he asked, receiving a nod. "Then how 'bout we walk down to Boudins for clam chowder."

"In a bread bowl," she added, smiling sweetly up at him as they walked back down the street the way they had come with their arms around each other's waist.

A din ensued as Trapper and Leah joked and laughed while pushing through the front door of Trapper's house, their arms laden with brown paper bags that held their dinner along with a few items for breakfast.

In the kitchen, after the bags were unloaded, Trapper pulled Leah into him, looking down at her contentedly.

"I had a wonderful day," she said softly.

"I did, too," he replied on his way to a kiss. "Now, it's surf and turf for dinner. I'll grill the steaks and lobster."

"And I'll prepare the salad and dressing, and after that, I'll warm the bread."

The rest of the evening, they talked about the grant, Angela, and finally their trip to Washington. "Have you ever lobbied before?" asked Trapper.

"Yes, several times. I even lobbied for a grant for lights on the soccer field where the kids played so they could play at night."

"Did you win?"

"Well, it took several tries, but in the end, yes. And not only did we get the lights, we were able to get money for a big, electronic scoreboard and a concession stand."

"Have you ever lobbied for computer infrastructure?" he asked loudly with raised eyebrows as he tended the grill on the back porch.

She stopped chopping and winced. "No. But basically what you do is talk," she said just as loud, waving the knife in the air before she resumed her salad preparations. "I have no problems talking in general, and I have no problems talking endlessly about my computer needs. You, on the other hand, can sometimes be a man of few words." He came in, standing behind her and moving his arms around her as she continued making the salad. She lowered her voice. "You can't be that way when you're in Washington. You have to be very knowledgeable about what you want, and you have to get almost pushy. You have to make them listen to you."

As he nuzzled her neck, she asked, "How are the steaks and lobster tails? The salad is almost ready."

"The steaks need a few more minutes," he said, giving her one last nibble on her ear lobe before he let her go. "I'll set the table."

After dinner, they sat on the sofa sipping wine while they considered the corner where the screen Trapper had purchased earlier in the day would eventually sit. "I didn't remember that your pieces are made of the same stone as the carvings on the screen. It makes better sense now, and I think the screen will go very well in that corner. But will artificial light affect the screen?" she asked, looking up at the subtle spotlight that shone down on the Qing dynasty vase.

"The spotlight will have to go." He reached over for her wine glass, moving it to the table next to the sofa. "So does this."

She objected teasingly when he leaned into her. "But I wasn't finished."

"Your doctor says you've had enough wine," he said, slowly moving a hand around her mid-section to her back, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders, bringing her into him as he stifled a protest with his mouth.

As he took a breath before he continued, she managed to get out what she had been trying to say before he stopped her again. "You're not my doctor, Doctor Mc..."

Standing, he held out his hand.

"Where we going?" she said, biting her lip.

"Upstairs," he replied in a deep husky voice, his eyes boring into hers.

For some reason she suddenly shivered. Dropping her eyes, she felt a blush rising, and chuckled at it. "Sorry. I don't know where that came from."

"Maybe it's because you've never spent the night with me in my house?"

"I've spent the night in your house, and I've slept in your bed," she said, taking his hand and moving to the stairs.

"That's all true," he said, falling in behind her as they climbed the stairs. "The operative words here are 'with me'".