Page 35 of Always to Remember
But he’d refrained because Meg wanted to watch.
And now his palms were sweating so badly he didn’t think he’d be able to get a good grip on his tools.
He walked to a low table where he kept his tools laid out. He wrapped his hand around a chisel and felt it slide through his palm. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to disappoint her. He wanted this monument to be all that she thought it could be … and more.
Opening his eyes, he stared across the fields. That she sat in judgment of him didn’t bother him. That she might sit in judgment of his efforts within the shed did.
He lowered his gaze and watched as delicate fingers pushed a plate across the table. He slid his gaze over to Meg. “I said I’d already eaten.”
She shrugged innocently. “I’m used to cooking for three. Besides, judging by the weight of your biscuits, I’d say you used a lot more of your staples than I did. I wrote my recipe on a piece of paper and left it on the table in the house.” She tapped the plate. “Kirk always liked biscuits with honey. So eat it. You can’t afford to waste anything around here.”
He leaned his hip against the table and picked up the plate. He bit into the warm honey-drenched biscuit and nearly groaned. “This is better than what you cooked on the way back from Austin.”
“It helps to have soda and milk.”
“Soda?”
She nodded quickly, and the corners of her mouth tipped up slightly.
He shoved the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. No telling what else he hadn’t put in the batter that he was supposed to.
“I don’t suppose you’d start working on the monument today?” she asked.
He set the plate aside. “I was thinking about it, since you’re here.” He scattered a stack of papers across the table. “I’ve been studying the rock since we brought it home, trying to see it from all sides, from the corners, from the top, the bottom.”
She picked up a piece of paper. “And you think this is what it looks like on the inside?”
“It’s what I need to make it look like on the inside.”
She lifted her eyes from the drawing, and Clay captured her gaze. “Do you understand?” he asked.
“You look at things so hard,” she said in amazement. “Whenever you look at something, anything—the rock, the twins, me—you look so intense, it’s almost frightening.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I did that.”
“I know. Kirk told me you didn’t look at the world like everyone else does. He said when he looked at me, he saw a beautiful girl, but when you looked at me, you saw lines, curves, and angles that were beautiful. You look at things so hard because you try to figure out exactly what it is that makes them look the way they do.”
He nodded in agreement. “I stare a lot.”
“When we were growing up, I hated it when you stared at me.”
He lowered his gaze to the ground. “I didn’t mean to offend you … or anyone else for that matter.”
“It no longer bothers me that you look at things so hard.”
He dared to lift his gaze to hers. “It doesn’t?”
She shook her head and picked up the first drawing he’d sketched for her. “You remember everything because you study it. This is exactly what Kirk looked like the last time I saw him.” She held his gaze. “What did he look like the last time you saw him?”
Clay felt as though she had just slammed a chisel through his heart. He saw her chin quiver, and he couldn’t tell her the truth.
“Didn’t you see him when he brought you the letters? What did he look like then?”
He combed his fingers through his hair, wincing when he hit the gash she’d mended. “Tired. He looked tired.”
“Was he thin?”
“Everyone was thin. They were having a hard time getting supplies through.” She looked so damn fragile trying to pretend she wasn’t hurting. He’d never expected Meg to look fragile. “He’d grown a beard.”
