Read Down From the Clouds for Free Online Page B

hundred beans.
    I loved that about her.
    Not the money thing. The simplicity. The fact that she could take something old and make it beautiful. Maybe she'd do that with me.
    "They say it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride's dress before they marry." She peeked through the dressing room in the back of a dingy vintage shop.
    "That must mean you like it."
    She stepped out. Her cheeks flushed with pink as she stood on her tippy toes and looked down. Soft, white dress from days gone by draped to her knees, hitting her curves in all the right places. "You like?"
    Words, tangled up in knots, stayed in my heart and never made it to my mouth. Not like it mattered. Ella and I spoke best when we didn't use words. Our eyes could say so much more. So I used my eyes to show her how I felt. She blushed even more, then slid behind the door and laughed.
    I bought the dress for her and we stepped outside. Cold city air stung our noses. I inhaled. Fumes from cars mixed with the fresh scent of snow. The grey evening welcomed us. Delicate snow flakes dusted the high buildings and slushy streets, turning every color into a world of white. I buried my nose in my scarf and pulled Ella into me. She wrapped her scarf around her head and nuzzled against my shoulder.
    “Where’d we park?” I said through layers of warm fabric.
    She looked up and shrugged.
    I smiled. “Great.”
    A rush of wind blew a newspaper quite a few blocks away. As it flipped and flopped into the frosty air, I kissed my love. Mid-kiss the nice snow flakes turned into freezing rain. She laughed. I probably looked like a frantic homeless man as I wrapped my scarf around my face, looked back and forth, and bolted toward wherever I thought I had parked.
    Ella’s hand in mine, we ran through the city looking for my car. I saw it a few blocks over and across the street. She could barely keep up because of her laughter, so I picked her up and carried her in my arms as I ran full-speed across the street and, why yes, like any prince charming would, I slipped on the curb. We fell in a puddle of mud, sleet, and snow. Ella’s dress flew out of the bag and into the middle of the street. A cab swished by, splashing the dress with specks of brown and grey.
    I ran and picked it up, then jogged back to Ella and slipped again, this time landing on my back because I didn’t want to ruin the dress even more.
    “Stop laughing,” I said, trying not to laugh myself. “I hate the cold. I’d rather sit in a stove and burn to death than be outside in this.”
    Bent over in tears and laughter, she grabbed my scarf and pulled me to her. “Kiss me, Gavin Kessler. I’ll warm you up.”
    “Sounds romantic, but let’s get to the car first, turn the heat on, and then get to that part.”
    She smiled. “You really don’t like the cold, huh?”
    By the time she finished her sentence I already had her and her dress safe in the car. I carefully walked to my side, probably looking somewhat like a penguin because I did not want to fall again and end up with more wet, cold slop on my pants.
    I turned on the car. Ella’s dress flew to the backseat. Her lips landed on mine. The local indie station played a folk song as I let her kiss warm me. Better than hot chocolate. Hands down.
    She stopped kissing me. Looked at the radio. Back to me.
    “Did you hear that?” she said.
    “Hear what?”
    “That news snippet. I think they said Mwenye.”
    I tugged on her collar. “About that kiss….”
    She sat in her seat, eyes turned serious. “I think they just said Mwenye is in jail for murder.”
     

Chapter Six
     
    We parked around the block from Tylissa’s house. She told us to climb the fence out back so the reporters wouldn’t catch us. Last thing I wanted was to be on television with Harold Kessler roaming Pennsylvania, so I obliged. Albeit a nervous wreck. I’m an artist, not a sporty guy. I’m not ripped and I can’t throw a football to save my life. Climbing six-foot fences did not