Brazen Virtue

courts of law.

    He was going to spend the evening putting up drywall, measuring, cutting, and banging until he forgot that however hard he worked, he would lose every bit as often as he would win.
    Clouds were coming in from the west, promising an evening rain. His plants needed it, here and in the little patch he’d cultivated in a community garden a couple of miles away. He hoped he’d have the time over the weekend to check on his zucchini. As he climbed out of the car, he heard the steady hum of a lawn mower. Glancing over, he watched Grace push a trail up and down the small yard in front of her sister’s house.
    She looked so pretty. Every time he saw her, he found himself content to simply watch. The little breeze that helped blow in the clouds caught at her hair so that it danced erratically around her face. She wore earphones attached to a portable stereo she’d hooked in the waist of her jeans.
    He’d meant to take care of the lawn for her, but now he was glad he hadn’t had the chance. It gave him the opportunity to watch her while she worked, while she was unaware of him. He could stand there and imagine what it would be like to come home every day and find her waiting.
    The tight knot of anger he’d been carrying with him loosened. He walked toward her.
    With vintage Chuck Berry blasting in her ears, Grace leapt when he touched her shoulder. Holding the lawn mower with one hand and her heart with the other, she smiled up at him. She watched his mouth move as “Maybelline” danced in her head. Her smile turned to a grin. She got such a kick out of looking at him, at the kind, even soft eyes in the strong face. He’d have made a perfect Mountain Man, Grace decided, living alone, living off the land. And the Indians would have trusted him because his eyes wouldn’t lie.

    Maybe she should try her hand at writing a historical, a western—something with a posse and a hard-riding, straight-shooting sheriff with a red beard.
    After a moment, Ed slipped the headphones off and let them dangle around her neck. Grace reached up to run a hand over his beard. “Hi. I didn’t hear a word you said.”
    “I noticed. You know, you shouldn’t play that thing so loud. It’s bad for your ears.”
    “Rock’s no good unless it’s loud.” She reached down to her hip and shut it off. “Are you home early?”
    “No.” Because they were both shouting over the roar of the mower, he pressed down the idle switch. “You’re never going to be able to finish this before the rain.”
    “Rain?” Surprised, she looked up at the sky. “When did that happen?”
    He laughed and the hours spent in court were forgotten. “Are you always oblivious to what’s happening around you?”
    “As often as possible.” Grace checked the sky again, then the remainder of the lawn. “Well, I can hit the rest tomorrow.”
    “I can take care of it for you. I’ve got tomorrow off.”
    “Thanks, but you’ve got enough to do. I’d better put this thing around back.”
    “I’ll give you a hand.” Because he seemed to want to, Grace relinquished her hold on the mower to him.
    “I met Ida today,” she began as they walked the chugging machine to the rear of the house.
    “Second house up?”
    “I guess. She must have seen me around back; she came down. She smelled like a cat.”
    “I’m not surprised.”
    “Anyway, she wanted me to know that she’d had very good vibrations about me.” Grace picked up a tarp when Ed stopped the mower at the corner of the house. “She wondered if I’d been at Shiloh—the battle of.”
    “And what did you say?”

    “I didn’t want to disappoint her.” After draping the tarp over the mower, Grace flexed her shoulders. “I told her I’d caught a Yankee bullet in the leg. And that even today I occasionally walk with a limp. It satisfied her. Do you have any plans for tonight?”
    He was learning to twist his thoughts with hers. “Drywall.”
    “Drywall? Oh, that ugly gray stuff, right? Can I give you a hand?”
    “If you want.”
    “Have you got any real food over there?”
    “I can probably dig up something.”
    Remembering the asparagus, Grace took him literally. “Hold on a minute.” She dashed into the house just as the first drops of rain began to fall. She ran out again carrying a bag of potato chips. “Emergency rations. Race you.” Before he could agree, she took off in a dead run, amusing him by agilely taking the fence with a one-handed leap. He caught up with