Page 32 of Resilience on Canvas

“I know.”

Henry’s heart sank. He’d hate to think that his friends might be forced to move, not only because he would miss them but also because he knew how much Joe loved Oklahoma. Had it not been for Joe’s fondness for their state, Rose might have wanted to move back to New York.

“Where would you go? Would you move back to New York?” Henry asked.

“Probably,” Joe said. “And wait in those Goddamn bread lines.”

“Maybe we’ll try California,” Rose said. “I’ve heard they need people for work out there, like to pick fruit.”

“Alright, then we’ll pick fruitbeforewaitin’ in the bread line,” Joe said. “Guess it beats starvin’, though. Or pneumonia.”

Henry nodded. Dust pneumonia was becoming a real problem. Mostly for children, but sometimes other folks, too. And Rose had struggled with her lungs back in the city, maybe because of the smog, as she called it, or because of the constant stress she was putting on her lungs by being on stage singing. Or both. Sometimes, Henry worried that Rose might become one of the few “young and healthy” folks to perish from pneumonia. Joe might have had the same worry himself.

“I won’t come down with pneumonia,” Rose said, patting Joe’s hand. “But if we can’t figure out how to keep feeding ourselves...”

“I can try to bring more food,” Henry said. “I’ll talk to Uncle Bob and—”

“Don’t,” Joe clipped. “Everyone else here in Guymon is in the same situation. Or worse. Golly, some people have kids to worry about. Besides, your uncle, he needs to make money. Rosie and me can’t be pillferin’ no food from his store.”

Henry shrugged and said, “It really wouldn’t be stealin’, but, uhm, I know what yer sayin’.”

“I want to be fair. Leave the charity to people who need it more,” Joe said. One corner of his mouth turned up to form a small, crooked smile. “Don’t think that means I’m not appreciative of your offer, though. I am.”

“I know,” Henry said, smiling back a little.

His chest twinged with sorrow. Not only for Rose and Joe. But for every person in Guymon.

Everyone brought their mugs to their lips in tandem. It seemed like the mood had shifted from a mild sort of melancholy to something even more sinister. Desolation, maybe. Hopelessness. Despair. Henry closed his eyes and prayed for a reprieve, both from the heavy feeling in his heart, and from the lack of rain.

Rose set her mug back on the table. “So, Henry, I see you brought your pack,” she said, clearly trying to shift the mood. “Anything fun?”

“Yeah, I, uhm, well, I was thinkin’ that maybe I could practice my art here?”

“Oh, I washopingyou’d say that!” She struck a pose, lifting her hand to rest her fingertips on her cheek and batting her eyelashes. “I’d love another portrait. They make me feel like I’m famous. Or at least like I’m back on the stage.”

“Ah, you’re famous to me, Rosie,” Joe said in a teasing tone, though every one of them knew that he was speaking the truth.

Rose was Joe’s star.

She stood up and sat back on Joe’s lap. They shared a kiss, one that wasn’t exactly the kind you ought to share with company present, and Henry’s cheeks began to burn. He cleared his throat to remind them of his presence, but that only made Rose chuckle while she continued to kiss Joe for a couple more seconds. Averting his eyes, Henry shook his head and moved to pick up his pack. He took out the sketch pad and placed it on the table.

He said, “Can I try to draw both of you? I want to, uhm, practice men’s faces too.”

After breaking her kiss, Rose winked and said, “In case you find yourself wanting to sketch a portrait of a certain hotheaded farmer in the future?”

Henry’s face burned hotter. Before he could respond, Joe cut in.

“Ah, Henry, of course you can draw me.” Joe stuck out his chin and smiled a cocky-yet-playful smile. “Try not to fall in love with me, though.”

Henry laughed softly. No, he wouldn’t catch feelings for Joe. Even if Joe wasn’t married to Rose, Henry wouldn’t have managed to like him in that sort of way. Because there was only one man for Henry Sherwood. And that man was Robert Davis.

Good God. Henrywasfalling for Robert, wasn’t he? It wasn’t no mere infatuation he was feeling. Not since they’d first talked in the store. Henry was falling hard and fast.

He had broken that promise to Rose long before he’d even made it.

And he found himself welcoming whatever pain his love for Robert might bring.

Chapter Nine

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