Page 85 of Resilience on Canvas

“Don’t you dare say that you weren’t never gonna tell me. I swear, Hen, if you really were plannin’ on keepin’ that from me, I might have to kick yer teeth in.”

Henry’s cheeks flushed crimson, but he sputtered a little laugh and shrugged his shoulders. Robert rolled his eyes. His threats weren’t holding weight with Henry Sherwood no more.

“When’d you learn how to be an artist?” Robert asked as Henry settled back down next to him.

“I started learnin’ when I was little,” Henry said with a shrug. “I bought my first charcoal pencils before we moved to Guymon, but even before I purchased those, I liked to draw, mostly with pens or such. That was kind of hard, though, because sometimes, the ink would leak out too fast and then there’d be a big blob on my paper. Or a bunch of little blobs.”

“Did you bring them pencils? Maybe I can watch you draw somethin’ when we’re in California.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

Robert shoved him half-heartedly. “Bore me?!Jesus, Hen, you wouldn’tboreme!”

“Alright, well, I can try to draw somethin’ for you. I, uhm, I have some of my sketchbooks in the truck, too, if you want to see them.”

“Of course I want to see them!

Henry worried at his bottom lip for a moment.

“What if you think I’m terrible?” he asked.

“I won’t!”

Rose chimed in. “Henry, you arefarfrom terrible. You’re incredible.”

Henry’s cheeks reddened some more. “Ah, maybe some of my stuff ain’t bad, but...” Frowning, Henry shifted uncomfortably. “Years back, when my father found a couple of my drawings, he—”

“Nope,” Robert said firmly. “Irefuseto let you finish that sentence, Hen. I may have only known Charles Sherwood for a little while, other than the brief talks we'd had in church sometimes, but I can say for certain that he seems to have a knack for missin’ out on greatness, even when it’s starin’ him in the face.” He paused to set the can of beans on the ground in front of him and then scooted closer to Henry. Even though the two of them hadn’t never really beenloveywith people watching them, Robert couldn’t hold back no more. Heart hammering from the lingering fear of being seen, of beingcaught, Robert leaned in close and cupped Henry’s chin. In the most tender tone he could muster, he said, “I won’t hear no more talk of Charles Sherwood tonight. Understand?”

Exhaling a shaky breath, Henry nodded. Pushing past his unease, Robert leaned in and touched their lips together in a brief, soft kiss. Robert was feeling proud of his own boldness as he pulled back, but then Henry took him by the collar and smashed their faces together, capturing Robert’s lips in a long, passionate kiss.

Henry Sherwood. Brave as they came.

Rose and Joe each let out a holler. Robert had to push Henry’s shoulders to pry his little wolf off of him. Both him and Henry then started to laugh.

“Henry Sherwood, we have company,” Robert mock-scolded.

Henry’s face was redder than the ripest tomato. “Sorry.”

“Liar,” Robert teased. He picked up Henry’s can of beans and thrust it into his hand. “Come on. We better finish eatin’ before the sun sets.”

Rose teased, “Dinner with a show, though. It makes me feel like I’m back in New York.”

Henry swept his hand through the layer of sand, sending some her way.

“Hey!” she said, laughing.

Joe tried to kick some back at Henry, but his movement ended up tipping over their cracker box, making some of the crackers tumble out onto the ground.

“Joe!” Rose said. “What was that?”

“I was tryin’ to re-, uhm, retaliate.”

Rose sucked in a breath in a real exaggerated manner, and Jose crooked an eyebrow in response.

“What? Can’t I be surprised that you said the right big word for once?” Rose teased.

With a lighthearted scoff, Joe picked up a fistful of sand and tossed it in her lap.

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