Read Traitor, Book 1 of The Turner Chronicles Page 11

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  Flo came around and said she was ready to try on that thing he had talked about. Aaron tried to work his way around the matter as delicately as he could, but in the end he could do nothing but haul out half a dozen bras and tell her to try them on for fit. Unfortunately, he then had to demonstrate how they were supposed to be worn. He had some trouble with that one since he had never actually seen a bra while it was on someone. By the time they finished he could still make the same claim because Cathy and Flo used him as the model. They worked the mechanics of the matter out between them, and then they chased Aaron out of the store while Cathy tried a few of the bras on Flo. When Flo finally left she did not look as if her back felt any better. However, after studying the situation for a few moments, Aaron did have to admit that she did certainly look--uplifted. Unfortunately, Cathy caught the direction of his gaze and spent the next several minutes laughing at Aaron' red face.

  At six that evening Aaron put his closed sign on the door and watched Cathy leave to visit Jorrin, with books in her arms, obviously feeling important with the responsibility given her. Less than half an hour later, shortly after Aaron finished his nightly sweeping of the boardwalk, she came back with Missy and Doyle in tow and carrying two filled buckets that smelled strongly of bleach.

  "He wants some time to look them over," Cathy said. "And we want to wash this filthy floor."

  Aaron looked at the floor and saw stains. Music played down the street, telling him that the dance had begun.

  "You don't have to," he said. "There's a dance going on. Besides, having you wash the floor is a bit much."

  Stamping her small foot, Missy stared into his eyes. "Well, we have to do something. You pay us more than we're worth so I don't think it's wrong if we decide to do a little more than you ask."

  "No," Aaron smiled, "it isn't. It isn't wrong of me to want to help either." He walked to the shelf where the scrub brushes were kept and grabbed one.

  "Your clothes," Cathy protested. "You'll get them all wet and dirty, and you have the dance to go to tonight."

  "Ummm--no--not going. Never learned to dance, and I refuse to look like an idiot."

  "You don't know how to dance! How can you not know?" Missy sounded offended.

  "I never had the chance to learn," Aaron admitted. "I never learned to scrub a floor before either."

  "I can tell," Cathy said wryly. "This floor hasn't seen a cleaning since you've been here. Just get the brush wet and start making circles, but you better change first. Those are nice clothes."

  "I can get more."

  The floor really was a disaster. They scrubbed on it for over two hours, rinsed it down, and scrubbed it again. A final rinse did not occur until hours after dark. From down the street, strains of music drifted through the open window when they finally put their cleaning tools away. The cling and clang of a hammer meeting metal still sounded from Jorrin's forge. He, too, had duties to perform that night. Earlier that day he had told Aaron that his orders were too far behind, and he had little time to fill them. Aaron knew Jorrin was feeling the burden of having graduated his apprentice to journeyman, but he also suspected Jorrin used work as an excuse to leave the dance early.

  Before she left, Missy bemoaned the ruin of his clothes one last time. Grinning impishly, Doyle took the peppermint stick Aaron handed him and left with Missy. Cathy stopped on her way out, one hand on the door, looking back over her shoulder. Aaron thought she wanted to say something, but she only shook her head and left, closing the door gently behind her.

  It was late, and he was hungry, so he quickly put together a snack and ate it. A reel of some kind came through the window, followed by a moody tune that brought images of couples slowly dancing, their bodies entangled.

  Shaking his head to clear it of inappropriate thoughts, Aaron cleaned up his dishes, disposed of his scraps and was about to blow out the lantern when a hesitant knock sounded.

  Cathy waited outside. Stepping into the store without asking permission, she slipped past him, brushing him a little as she slid by. Wearing a nervous smile, Cathy quickly walked to the largest open space the store held, a small area seven feet by four in front of the counter. Turning to face him, she stood, patiently waiting. With a small shake of her head, she held out her hand and gestured for him to come forward. Cathy took his hand and placed it on her hip.

  "Put your right hand there. Now take your left hand and hold my right hand with it. No," she laughed. "You have to stand in front of me. Now watch my feet. Follow along when I step out. Leading is something you can learn later. This is called the 'Walkers Dance in the Mist'. It goes like this. And one and two."