Black and Blue Ivy

Learning

Being with Bentley felt natural, like breathing. Whether it was the way our shoulders brushed when he drew my attention to a section in the bookstore, or how our heads would draw together, like the horses grazing in the paddock—it all seemed so natural. It was his scent too that I loved, pine and wool and fresh air—that was Bentley. And I breathed it in like oxygen.

"Here we are," he said, steering me like an older brother toward the academic section of the sprawling, Penn campus bookstore.

"Oh, no," I said. "Not math!"

"Yes, math," he said, piling my arms with floppy workbooks. "These are basic, but they'll do."

"Aren't these college level?"

"Math is math. I'll teach you."

My mood brightened.

"You will?"

"Yes." He squinted as he scanned the book shelves. "I spoke to Mother about your—ahem—education. She agreed her approach was draconian."

"Whatever that means."

"Vocabulary," he said, heading for the English education section.

He piled me me with a few more books and carried a stack himself.

"That's probably enough for now," he said.

We headed for the cash register.

"So, are you really going to teach me?" My heart fluttered at the thought of spending more time with him.

"Yes," he said. "I designed an entire course of study for you." He set down the books not the counter and arranged them into two neat stacks.

"That's eight-five dollars and thirty-seven cents," said the bearded clerk behind the counter who looked like a philosophy student, not that I'd ever met any.

I whistled at the exorbitant price, but Bentley hardly batted an eye as he fished a credit card from his wallet.

"Does Gardenia give you an allowance?"

His face darkened, and I instantly regretted query. It must be humiliating for him to have to ask Gardenia for money.

"Yes," he said, tapping his fingers against the counter while the clerk packed up the books.

I waited until we were back on the street before I said, "Where you get your money is not my business. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He swung the heavy shopping back in one hand while retrieving the car keys from his pocket with the other. He beeped open the Corvette and set the bags into the cubby behind the seats. He slammed the door shut and leaned his elbows on the roof of the car. "The truth is I passed my high school equivalency two years ago. I could leave Providence House any time I want."

"Why don't you?" My voice was a whisper because as much as I needed to know what motivated to remain under such maternal control, part of me felt a rising panic at the thought that he would take my suggestion. Despite the wealth, Providence House would be unbearable without Bentley. "Not that I want you to go," I added.

His eyes floated upward toward the bare tree branches of one of the stately elms lining the city street. "I've thought about it many times, but without my inheritance I would have a thought time getting by. Also—"

"Yes?"

The look in his eyes was so intense it was difficult to hold his gaze. "You've given me another reason to stay." I blushed, and he ran his knuckles down my cheek.

"Lunch?" he said, breaking the mood with a playful tousle of my hair.

"Yes, sir!"

He linked his arm in mine and we headed off to his favorite campus bistro.