Free Porcelain Keys by Sarah Beard Page A

result in getting dunked, so I gave up the idea.
    “Come on,” he coaxed, “we’ll stay close to shore.”
    “Promise?”
    He offered me the oars. “You’re the captain.”
    “If I’m the captain, shouldn’t you be the one rowing?”
    “Aye, aye,” he said, tossing the oars in the boat. “Get in, and I’ll do all the rowing.”
    “Okay, but if we sink . . .”
    “If we sink, I’ll buy you dinner.”
    “I thought you didn’t date.”
    “I don’t. But if the boat sinks, I’ll make an exception.”
    It sounded like a good trade-off. Be submerged in cold water, get a dinner date with Thomas. I hesitated just long enough not to look overly eager, then climbed in the boat, hoping it would sink.
    He gave the boat a shove, then jumped in. I picked up the oars and started rowing.
    “I thought I was supposed to row,” he said, holding out his hands.
    “I’ve got it,” I said, aiming for the middle of the lake. If the boat was going to sink, we’d have to be far from shore.
    “I thought we were staying close to shore.”
    “There’s a great view of Pikes Peak from the middle of the lake.”
    He smiled, that little dimple surfacing on the side of his mouth. “You’ve got to give a guy a chance to be chivalrous.”
    I sighed and handed the oars to him. “To the middle of the lake,” I ordered in my most authoritative voice.
    “Aye, aye, captain.”
    He made it to the middle of the lake eventually, in a roundabout sort of way. We settled in, quietly taking in the scenery around us. The morning sun had risen above the trees, and golden light bounced off the water, flickering across his face. I watched him as he gazed into the water, his face relaxed and carefree. Being with him made me feel the same. Like all my worries were left behind in some forgotten place. It was just me and him, sitting on a still lake in the quiet morning.
    I eyed the bottom of the boat, which was still dry, and silently lamented that I most likely wouldn’t be getting a dinner date. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t date, but I wasn’t sure how to casually broach the subject. “So,” I started hesitantly, “I couldn’t help but notice that you avoided answering Trisha’s question the other day.”
    “Which question was that?”
    “Why don’t you date?” I felt my cheeks begin to flush. “I mean, is it your parents’ rule or something?”
    He looked down at the clear water, then dipped his hand in and slowly swayed it back and forth, making little ripples.“No. And I didn’t answer her question because it’s hard to explain. Most people don’t understand my reasoning.”
    I gazed at him, hoping he’d trust me enough to explain.
    “I know this sounds weird, but . . .” He bit his lip and paused. “I don’t date because it’s my way of protecting my mom.”
    “How does you not dating protect her?”
    A little crease appeared between his brows. “She’s just been through a lot these past couple years.” I waited for him to expound, but he went back to quietly swaying his hand in the water. Back and forth, back and forth. Just when I thought the conversation had hit a dead end, he said, “I told you about my brother’s baby.”
    I nodded.
    “Well, Richard, my brother, was my age when he got his girlfriend pregnant, and that in itself was hard for my mom because they were going to give the baby—her first grandchild—up for adoption. But then . . .” Thomas took a deep breath and his expression darkened. “When the baby died . . .” He seemed to be having some inward struggle, like he was deciding just how much to share with me. It was a good minute before he spoke again. “Richard has always struggled with drugs and alcohol, and when the baby died, he sort of went off the deep end. In fact, he’s in jail right now.”
    I still wasn’t sure that I understood. “Do you think you would make the same mistakes your brother made if you dated?”
    He paused briefly as he opened his mouth to speak,