Page 49 of Sweet Madness
“Oh no,” Raiza slouches in her seat with Narcizo still in her arms, looking distraught. How dramatic of her. “Did you catch that, Willow?” She lifts herself from the seat and presses her face to her screen. “We’ve lost her!”
I smile at the thought of him. He’s made of steel. He must be. How else can it be explained how badass he is? I remember all the times he deals with threats, how strong and fierce he looks, as if he fears no man. Willow blushes and smiles prettily at us. “Love is not a curse, Raiza. Love is everything.”
Love? Butterflies invade my belly at the thought of it, because love for me has always had a face. Shaw’s.
“You two are saps!” Raiza teases. “Don’t you know that the moment the love bug bites us in the butt, it’ll be our downfall?”
“Oh hush, Raiza. I can’t wait for the day boys start piling at Uncle Vitali’s door,” I tease.
Raiza rolls her eyes at that while Low shakes her head, looking concerned at the thought of our little cousin falling victim to love. We both know that Raiza, though sometimes intimidating, has a soft heart. Whoever the guy is that wins her heart will be the luckiest.
We then move to lighter topics, Willow and Raiza teasing each other and sharing more about their days while I update them on life at the ranch. I tell them about the animals and the tulip field, and they both listen with genuine smiles on their faces. Willow appears particularly excited about life on the ranch.
After chatting for a while and catching up on their lives, I know I have to refocus on my class before missing something important. “I need to get back to class, but I’ll call you both later, okay?” I promise, earning nods and smiles from Willow and Raiza.
With a final wave goodbye to my little cousins, I end the video call and unmute myself in the online class. Despite the sudden interruption, I can’t help but smile wide at how my family brightens my days with their love and silly antics.
As Professor Kelley carries on with the lecture for twenty more minutes, she eventually assigns us our first assignment, one that I’m very excited about. However, I don’t think I have the necessary equipment here. I’ll have to ask Shaw. Maybe he could take me into town so I can buy a microscope.
When the professor ends the class, I feel a wave of exhaustion from sitting for so long. I’m not used to sitting for extended periods; I’m usually moving around and staying active.
Restlessly, I wander over to the window. Outside, I see Shaw standing in the distance with another man who is dressed similarly to him, except for the cowboy hat. The man is a few inches shorter than Shaw and muscular. Even from a distance, I can see he has sleeves of tattoos on both arms. His neck is covered, too. He doesn’t look like your typical cowboy.
They seem engaged in a serious conversation, their voices carried away by the wind. Not wanting them to catch me peering through the window and thinking I’m a creep, I decide to occupy myself until I can see Shaw again.
“What should I do?” I glance around the room, my eyes settling on a sleeping Poppy next to my slippers, then I turn my attention to the room’s door. Intrigued, I decided to explore his home. My footsteps are silent on the hardwood as I walk down the quiet hallway. Thoughts race through my mind about Shaw’s life during the years he was away, his relationships and family, and the sadness that clings to him like a second skin.
Walking cautiously down the long corridor, I find myself drawn to Shaw’s library. The door is slightly ajar, and I decide to enter. My breath catches in my lungs the second I step foot inside. It is a lovely sanctuary of knowledge, lined with shelves of books that seem to hold secrets of their own.
The room is bathed in warmth, the light accentuating the rich mahogany shelves, which stretch from floor to ceiling, laden with books of all sizes and colors. Each shelf seems meticulously arranged, creating an atmosphere of order. How perfect…
I breathe in the aroma of aged paper and leather bindings. I keep looking around, noticing the furniture that seems tasteful and inviting—a pair of leather armchairs nestled near a fireplace, a sturdy oak desk adorned with antique frames.
As I wander deeper into the library, my fingers lightly trace the spines of books. I can’t help but marvel at the wide range of classics he owns. The Aeneid by Virgil, Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, Moby-Dick by Herman Melville, and One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez are some of the books I find there.
My eyes grow wide when I notice a book titled Cosmos. I make a point to check that one out later. Does Shaw enjoy learning about the cosmos and astronomy like I do? I wonder.
On a coffee table amidst stacks of journals and novels lies a solitary book that stands out—The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I open the book, and a photograph slips out, fluttering softly to the floor. It is an old picture of a young Shaw, his face soft and his smile wide, standing next to a stunning woman with love shining in her eyes—eyes the same color as Shaw’s.
My fingers tremble slightly as I turn over the photograph, revealing a pattern of tiny dots on the back that resembles a constellation in the night sky—one of those beautiful patterns that light up the sky at night. My eyes widen with curiosity. What could this mean? I made a mental note to find out more about it.
The classic novel isn’t tucked in with all the others on the bookshelves, and it has a photo of a young Shaw. It has to mean something more to him. Deep in my gut, something tells me that the photo is connected somehow to why the beautiful man no longer smiles. Shaw’s handsome face flashes through my mind, and a pang in my chest leaves me momentarily breathless.
His whiskey eyes look so sad. His lips twitch but don’t bloom into a full-blown smile. As if he has somehow forgotten to smile. As if he no longer finds humor in life’s silly little things. I’ll piece together all your broken pieces, Shaw. Just you wait.
Without hesitation, I tuck the photo back between the pages when I notice another book on the table: Introduction to Braille by Nadia Burg. Braille? How strange.
Picking up the book, I examine it more closely. Why would Shaw have this in his library? Curious, I flip through its pages and notice a familiar pattern among the symbols—a sequence I know by heart now. It is identical to the sequence Shaw doodled for me when he left me the apology gifts.
I read through the text that explains the meaning of the dot sequence and am taken aback by its meaning. “Beautiful…” I whisper to the lonely library.
My mind races with the revelation that Shaw has communicated to me using Braille to tell me he thinks I am beautiful. Warmth floods through me, contrasting with the cool calm of the library around me. I can’t help but feel a thousand lovely emotions hitting me at once. What this man triggers are no longer tiny, beautiful butterflies but a kaleidoscope of them.
There is no doubt in my mind that the man he used to be is still there. Perhaps a little bit bruised and broken, but he’s there. Maybe, just maybe… I’ll get to discover a side of him that I didn’t get to know when I was just a little girl with a crush.
My thoughts race to find a way to brighten his day as he has brightened mine countless times since arriving here. Suddenly, an idea sparks in my mind. Placing the book exactly where I found it, I hurry out of the library, my steps quickening with excitement and determination.
I’ll save you, beautiful man. I’ll give you your smiles back.