exclaimed, slapping the table. “I was afraid we’d have to teach him to read braille.”
Bobbie did as Sheamus asked, but made the eyes comically angry. An inverted eyebrow added tension but in the end he looked more disgruntled than mean. She added color to his cheeks, then drew a snarl that was also more funny than frightening.
Sheamus unclipped the sketch from the board and held it up. He looked unsure at first, but finally smiled. He turned to his uncle. “Can I tape this to the closet door?”
“Sure.”
“Will you help me put it up when I go to bed?”
“Yes. Meanwhile, why don’t you put him on the refrigerator? We can get used to him before you go to bed.”
Sheamus took a yellow power company magnet shaped like a lightbulb and secured the portrait under several postcards and a school lunch menu. Bill was impressive. His dimensions were large, his pose blustery, but his general impression was one of vulnerability.
“Doesn’t he need fangs?” Nate asked, a smile in his voice.
“Yeah!” Sheamus agreed.
Bobbie went to the refrigerator with the black pencil and a yellow one. She gave Bill one regular fang, then colored the other yellow. But when she stood back to study it she wasn’t happy. “I wish I had a gold pencil,” she complained. “That looks more like yellowed decay than a gold tooth.”
“Here.” Dylan offered a marker she had put in his bag of supplies. Nate took it from him and passed it to Bobbie.
She uncapped it and turned the yellow fang gold, even added a few sparkle lines to depict glitter. She stood back again and laughed aloud. “That’s perfect! Thank you, Dylan.” She handed the marker to Nate, who passed it back.
“Thanks, Dyl. Just what it needed.”
“Sure.” He smiled thinly, then added, “Bill’s still a stupid name.”
Sheamus ignored that. “How come a gold fang?”
“In the old days,” Nate explained, with a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they studied the portrait together, “dentists used gold to fill teeth. Pirates usually have at least one gold tooth.”
Sheamus studied Bill closely. “I kinda like him,” he said. Bobbie silently cheered. Mission accomplished. Almost. He still had to open the closet door.
The living room clock chimed eight. Sheamus poked Dylan on the shoulder. “ Suite Life of Zack and Cody is on.” He turned to his uncle. “Can we go watch TV before bed?”
“Sure.”
“And now can we have cocoa?” He smiled winningly.
“Go ahead. I’ll bring it in a minute.”
Bobbie noticed that Dylan had turned his sketch facedown before getting up. “Can I see what you’ve done?” she asked, before he could follow his brother.
Dylan stopped in the doorway to consider, bounced a glance off his uncle. “It isn’t finished.” He nodded reluctantly. “Okay. But don’t laugh.”
She frowned at him. “Artists never laugh at each other.”
He followed Sheamus into the living room.
Bobbie turned his sheet over and studied his sketch with pleased surprise. It was elementary so far, just nicely defined lines indicating beach, ocean and low mountains in the background. There were rocks on the shore, and a bird suggested in the sky.
She went to straighten up and ask Nate what he thought, then felt his face right beside hers, his eyes riveted to the drawing.
“So, he’s good, isn’t he?” he asked.
“He’s good,” she confirmed. “Those expressive lines are the sort of thing you can’t teach.”
“He’s been working on that a lot since you gave him the supplies.” Nate turned his gaze from the paper to her eyes, and she felt that electricity at work again.
She delved deeply for a full breath. “The more he works, the better he’ll become. I’d love to see how this develops.”
“Incidentally...” Nate didn’t touch her, but his eyes somehow held her immobile. How did he do that? She should look away, just to show him that she could, but contrary to all good sense, she didn’t want to. He exuded
Bobbie did as Sheamus asked, but made the eyes comically angry. An inverted eyebrow added tension but in the end he looked more disgruntled than mean. She added color to his cheeks, then drew a snarl that was also more funny than frightening.
Sheamus unclipped the sketch from the board and held it up. He looked unsure at first, but finally smiled. He turned to his uncle. “Can I tape this to the closet door?”
“Sure.”
“Will you help me put it up when I go to bed?”
“Yes. Meanwhile, why don’t you put him on the refrigerator? We can get used to him before you go to bed.”
Sheamus took a yellow power company magnet shaped like a lightbulb and secured the portrait under several postcards and a school lunch menu. Bill was impressive. His dimensions were large, his pose blustery, but his general impression was one of vulnerability.
“Doesn’t he need fangs?” Nate asked, a smile in his voice.
“Yeah!” Sheamus agreed.
Bobbie went to the refrigerator with the black pencil and a yellow one. She gave Bill one regular fang, then colored the other yellow. But when she stood back to study it she wasn’t happy. “I wish I had a gold pencil,” she complained. “That looks more like yellowed decay than a gold tooth.”
“Here.” Dylan offered a marker she had put in his bag of supplies. Nate took it from him and passed it to Bobbie.
She uncapped it and turned the yellow fang gold, even added a few sparkle lines to depict glitter. She stood back again and laughed aloud. “That’s perfect! Thank you, Dylan.” She handed the marker to Nate, who passed it back.
“Thanks, Dyl. Just what it needed.”
“Sure.” He smiled thinly, then added, “Bill’s still a stupid name.”
Sheamus ignored that. “How come a gold fang?”
“In the old days,” Nate explained, with a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they studied the portrait together, “dentists used gold to fill teeth. Pirates usually have at least one gold tooth.”
Sheamus studied Bill closely. “I kinda like him,” he said. Bobbie silently cheered. Mission accomplished. Almost. He still had to open the closet door.
The living room clock chimed eight. Sheamus poked Dylan on the shoulder. “ Suite Life of Zack and Cody is on.” He turned to his uncle. “Can we go watch TV before bed?”
“Sure.”
“And now can we have cocoa?” He smiled winningly.
“Go ahead. I’ll bring it in a minute.”
Bobbie noticed that Dylan had turned his sketch facedown before getting up. “Can I see what you’ve done?” she asked, before he could follow his brother.
Dylan stopped in the doorway to consider, bounced a glance off his uncle. “It isn’t finished.” He nodded reluctantly. “Okay. But don’t laugh.”
She frowned at him. “Artists never laugh at each other.”
He followed Sheamus into the living room.
Bobbie turned his sheet over and studied his sketch with pleased surprise. It was elementary so far, just nicely defined lines indicating beach, ocean and low mountains in the background. There were rocks on the shore, and a bird suggested in the sky.
She went to straighten up and ask Nate what he thought, then felt his face right beside hers, his eyes riveted to the drawing.
“So, he’s good, isn’t he?” he asked.
“He’s good,” she confirmed. “Those expressive lines are the sort of thing you can’t teach.”
“He’s been working on that a lot since you gave him the supplies.” Nate turned his gaze from the paper to her eyes, and she felt that electricity at work again.
She delved deeply for a full breath. “The more he works, the better he’ll become. I’d love to see how this develops.”
“Incidentally...” Nate didn’t touch her, but his eyes somehow held her immobile. How did he do that? She should look away, just to show him that she could, but contrary to all good sense, she didn’t want to. He exuded
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