"Blue-eyed love, ain't it wonderful?" Green Sun Chapter 18 Making the World Round by Donna Lamb

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Arthur moved first, stepping around Mangas to take the plate from Hollie. "Thank you for bringing us beer," he said, smiling down at her. "I'm Arthur. And you're Hollie."

"Uh huh," she said, staring up at him. Most Southwestern Indians are not so tall but Arthur had some mixed ancestry and topped six feet easily with the heavy upper body of many Choctaws and Chickasaws. He stood more than a foot taller than Hollie, even in her heels. Looming over her like a giant and exuding some sort of masculine aura that must have been aged in oak barrels to an intense, mellow glow of strength, Arthur's simple speech overwhelmed Hollie's damaged coping skills. She knew in that moment that she would have agreed with anything he might have suggested.

"Mangas," said Arthur, "you want to split a beer with me?" He didn't take his eyes off her and his smile impaled her like a butterfly in a dusty museum case. He took a beer off the plate and held it casually in one hand, breaking the seal of the screw-off cap with a sideways push of his thumb.

She smiled back, dizzy.

Bruce grabbed Mangas's shoulder before he could step forward and whispered into the old man's ear. "That's her--but, what happened? She's...different..." he trailed off.

Mangas grunted. "The swelling went down," he said and chuckled. He stepped forward, took the beer from Arthur, popped the cap off and put it into his pocket before speaking. "Did you bring a beer for yourself, Hollie?" he asked.

Relieved because she could talk to Mangas, Hollie said, "Uh, no. I don't, um, I don't drink... beer." She still hadn't taken her eyes off Arthur's and the last word came out in a whisper.

"You sure?" Arthur asked, offering her the second beer with the cap already loosened.

"No?" she said but she reached for the beer since he offered it.

Bruce felt something he hadn't felt since high school. He felt jealous, jealous of his friend, and that made him angry--mostly at himself. He stepped forward to speak but he couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound like some macho asshole talking. Looking at Hollie looking at Arthur--hurt in some way he couldn't define.

Hollie took the beer and stared now at Bruce, her gaze attracted by his movement. If Arthur seemed like potent masculinity aged in oak, Bruce gave the impression of triple distilled lightning in a glass bottle stored on a high shelf almost out of reach. It might even be dangerous to try. She gasped--and not only because she recognized him as the man who had rescued her from the desert.

"Who-ah!" Arthur grabbed the beer back before she dropped it. He glanced at his friend and grinned; none of the men had missed Hollie's reaction when she saw Bruce. "This one's yours, Bruce ol' buddy, ol' pal," said the big Indian, handing the half-opened beer to Bruce. He even stepped back a little.

"Thanks," said Bruce. "Thank you, Hollie. I'm glad you're feeling better." He took the beer and put the cap in his shirt pocket. "And I'm glad to find out your name."

"Thank you," said Hollie. "For...." She blushed, remembering her confusion and his kindness in her predicament. "I might.... I would have...."

"You're welcome," said Bruce.

"Sure you don't want this last beer?" Arthur asked before taking it off the plate which he wedged into a convenient low fork on the palo verde tree near the cabin. He popped the cap on the bottle and tucked it into his pocket, looking sideways at Mangas as he took a drink. "Ah, blue-eyed love--ain't it wonderful?"

Mangas chuckled."It's what makes the world round," he said before sipping his own beer.

"You mean 'love makes the world go round,' old man," said Arthur. "That's how the song goes."

"Different song," said Mangas. "Isn't it, Hollie?"

She blinked. Once again Mangas's voice had pulled Hollie out of a trance. "Um, yes. But in the song, it's not love...it's money." She put her head up, took a deep breath and sang in a bell-like soprano:

Money make the world go round, they say, so they say.
Money make the world round, so they say, so they say.
It ain't if you rich or poor, you still gonna pay.

That girl look at you, mister, what you gonna do?
That man look at you, sister, what you gonna do?
Someone gonna pay someone, that you know is true.

See the girl dancin', dancin', she got rents to pay.
Hear the girl singin', singin', she got rents to pay.
If you lay your money down, you can have your say.

Man got money in the bank, gonna get me some.
Man got money in the bank, gotta get me some.
Ain't thinkin' 'bout what I do, till it's gone and done.

See that pretty man workin' so hard for his pay?
See that pretty girl workin' so hard for her pay?
One of them gonna be broke by the end of day.

Money make the world go round, it's true, ain't it true?
Money make the world round, ain't it true, ain't it true?
You wanna get some money, what you gonna do?

She moved as she sang, dancing in place, a sexy, slow throb to some unheard blues sidemen. She rang the last note, high and clear, then she stopped, eyes bright, face flushed pink, dizzy and exhilarated.

Arthur and Bruce exchanged glances. "Holy smokes," said Arthur. "Voice like that, maybe that is her money."