Page 59 of Pages of My Heart
Thomas stirs. Charlie pulls back, watching Thomas’s eyes flutter open and closed a few times before they focus on Charlie’s face.
“Morning, my love.” A sleepy smile curls at the corners of Thomas’s mouth.
“Tommy,” is all he manages to say, cataloguing this moment to memory.
“What time is it?”
“Not sure.” Charlie turns to reach for his wristwatch on the nightstand. “Would you believe 10:30?”
“Christ, almost half the day is gone. How do you want to spend the rest of it?”
Charlie rolls back into Thomas’s arms and threads his fingers through red hair. “As much as I’d like to stay forever in this bed with you, I want to go into town and see if I can pick something up at the store.”
“Well, we better get a move on then. What do you need to buy?”
“Never you mind, Red.”
Once Charlie spots the store he needs, he has a hard time getting Thomas to leave him alone.
“Tommy, take a walk and see if you can find me a candy bar. Then meet me back here in ten.”
“Why are you being so secretive?”
“It ain’t nothing bad. You’ll just have to trust me. Okay?”
“Fine, but I don’t like leaving you—even just for ten minutes. What if you’re not here when I get back and I can’t find you?”
“Thomas . . .” Charlie leans in closer, so no one passing on the street can hear him. “Sweetheart, give me ten minutes now, and I’ll spend ten minutes on my knees later.”
Thomas steps back with an eager grin on his face. “See you in ten, then.” He gives Charlie an appraising look up and down and then heads off.
Charlie takes a moment to appreciate his backside as he walks away, then dashes across the road to the bookstore, sighing with relief once he’s inside.
“Uh, where would I find the poetry section?” he asks the man standing at the front counter.
“Far aisle, about three quarters of the way down. Please let me know if you would like some assistance, sir.”
“Yeah, uh . . . thanks.”
He wanders down the far aisle until he comes to the section he wants. There is quite a lot to choose from, but one book stands out immediately:Ode to Love: The Greatest Love Poems of All Time. Pulling it from the shelf, he flicks to the table of contents and finds some familiar names—names of poets Thomas has mentioned before. Without a second thought, he takes it up to the front counter and pays. Then he gets an idea.
“Do ya got any gift wrap or anything?”
“Only brown paper, sir. But I can wrap it in that and tie a bow around it.”
“That would be great. Can I borrow a pen first?”
“Certainly, sir. Anything for one of our young soldiers. Is it for your girl? Your wife, maybe?”
“Uh, yeah, somethin’ like that,” Charlie mumbles as he takes the pen, his face flushing hot. Why didn’t he just answer with a simple “yes”? But he’s running out of time and he can’t stop to dwell on it, so he opens the book to the inside cover and begins to write.
To my sweetheart,
If someone were to write a poem about us, it would be the best one in this book.
All my love on your 24th birthday.
Eternally yours,
