Page 50 of Always to Remember
She clambered down from the stool. “Where should I stand? Here?”
He stepped onto the stool and tilted his head. “Move a little to your right.”
She took a step as small as a piece of chipped stone. “A little more,” he said.
She inched over, and Clay rubbed his eyes. They’d be here until evening. He climbed down from the stool and drew anXin the dirt near her feet. “Stand here.”
He stepped onto the stool and looked at her. “Now, raise your arms so your hands are just below your chin.”
“Shouldn’t I raise them above my head? I was handing Kirk the flag. I didn’t want him to have to reach far for it.”
“I don’t want anything to block the view of your face. It’s more important than the flag.”
Blushing, she began to fidget.
“You’re gonna have to stand still.”
She stopped squirming, but she looked as nervous as she had the first Sunday she played the organ in church.
“All right, I need you to turn just a little to your left. A little more. A little more. Perfect.”
“Is this so you can see my ears better?”
He pointed toward the silhouette she’d identified as Kirk’s head. “It’s so he can see your ears better.”
She smiled. “Would it help if I brought some calico from home that I could drape down and pretend was the flag?”
“It might. If your arms get tired, you can lower them. I’m not doing anything right now that will be messed up if you move, but it’s easier if you’re still.”
“I’m, ready.”
Clay had always liked the natural look of stone. Plain and unadorned, it possessed a simple beauty. At this moment, though, he wished he had material that could hold the blue of Meg’s eyes and the rosy glow of her cheeks. No matter how hard he worked, he’d never be able to capture her beauty in the granite.
“You can blink,” he said.
“Oh.” She released a light laugh. “I don’t even think I was breathing. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“Maybe because I have to watch you so hard.” He tapped the silhouette of Kirk’s head. “Just look at this and ignore me.”
“Ignoring you is what I do best.”
She tilted her chin and focused her gaze on the stone. Clay took his own sweet time innotignoring her. He allowed his gaze to travel freely from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. He studied every curve and line, and he wondered how he was going to concentrate on creating Meg’s silhouette when he couldn’t keep his mind focused on the task. It kept drifting away from her image cut in hard stone, and imagining her soft body against his palms instead.
If God had given him a hunk of flesh and told him to carve it into any shape he wanted, he would have carved it so it looked exactly like Meg—with her tiny waist and her narrow hips and those small … ears.
He wiped his sweating palms on his trousers.
“Are you going to chip the stone away?” she asked as she leveled her gaze on him.
He nodded. “I’m just adjusting my thinking since I don’t have to rely on my memory.”
“Your thinking seems to be a mite slower than your memory.”
“I’ll see if I can remedy that.” He set the chisel against the stone and brought the hammer back.
“Oh my God!” Meg cried.
He jerked his attention from the stone and stared at her. She skittered to the other side of the stool and pressed her back against the stone. “It’s Tom Graham.”
