Page 64 of Mail-Order Bride Substitute
It took a great deal of effort to turn his attention back to the task at hand.
He lifted the branches overhead and placed them where he wanted them. Another trip for more and the roof was covered. It wasn’t weatherproof but a layer of pine boughs put down like shingles would be adequate and he cut what he needed and lay them in place.
Satisfied with the job he’d done, he stood back to admire his work. And realized that Olivia had turned toward him, her pencil busy.
He went to see what she’d done. A drawing of him working on the shelter.
“I hope you don’t mind.” She sounded wary.
“Not at all. In fact, I’d like to frame it and hang it up at home.”
“Really?”
“A reminder of pleasant times.”
Her gaze held his, perhaps asking if she was part of those pleasant memories. Rather than admit she was, he said, “Are you ready to explore further along the river?”
“I’d like that.” She stowed her drawing things in her bag and hung it over her shoulder.
He was about to suggest she leave it behind then reconsidered. He wouldn’t mind if she wanted to sit and draw. He could settle in by her side and watch. He’d enjoy that. He held out his hand for hers and she joined him as they walked along the bank of the river. They didn’t say anything profound and yet he enjoyed the give and take of their conversation as they pointed out birds to one another and listened to the rustle of small animals in the underbrush. He told of camping out under the stars when his pa took the boys out to help with the cows.
“I loved seeing the newborn calves. Having to brand them when they are big and feisty isn’t quite so much fun.”
Higher up the hill, they sat to watch birds ducking into the water in search of food. And he admitted a secret yearning to her. “I’ve always dreamed of a time when I would teach my children how to fish. How to camp. Show them the mountain trails. Read to them.”
“I’ve always hoped for a large family.” He turned to see her smile. “I was lonely as a child.”
“I’m trying to imagine what you did. What I see is a little girl with brown pigtails hanging down her back and—”
“Pencil and paper in her hand. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t draw.” She sat up so suddenly he wondered if something had bitten her.
She rushed on. “I just remembered a picture I drew for my mother. I couldn’t have been more than three or four. It was of a rainbow I saw out our window, curving around trees. Mama said it was extraordinarily beautiful. I think she planned to have it framed.” Olivia’s voice trailed off.
“Did she?”
“I never saw it. After they died many of our things disappeared. I suppose they were sold or given away. I have very few mementos of my parents.”
The husky tone of her voice suggested that emotion threatened to overwhelm her.
He pulled her close. “I’m sorry you lost your parents and things that were meaningful.”
She leaned into his embrace. “I’m making new memories. This will be one I cherish forever.”
The world around them was beautiful and worthy of admiration but he guessed she meant more than the view…that he was included in her thoughts. The knowledge edged past every wall, every boundary he’d constructed, and settled into his heart like a squatter with every intention of establishing permanent residence.
She tipped her face up to him. “‘My soul doth magnify the Lord.’” He ached to share whatever brought the glow to her eyes.
Lowering his head, he claimed her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. The scent of wildflowers filled his nostrils and dripped like honey into his heart. A strand of her hair, carried by the light breeze, drifted across his cheek. The murmur of the rushing water was drowned out by the hum inside his head.
He slowly ended the kiss and brushed the strand of hair that had tickled his skin into place behind her ear.
Birds chattered in the trees around them. A feathered chorus accompanying the music of the waterfall. Olivia’s head rested in the hollow of his shoulder. Right where she belonged. Not wanting to spoil the moment, he didn’t move They stayed there, cuddled together like lovers until his limbs ached from being immobile.
“Are you getting hungry?” he asked.
“Umm. A little.” She sounded so relaxed he was loathed to end the moment. But they couldn’t sit on a hillside forever.
He rose and pulled her to her feet. They returned to the little shelter and sat outside it while they ate their picnic lunch.
