Lorraine Heath Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Clay” indicated an intimacy, a friendship that she would never share with this man.
    Gently, she slapped the reins against her thigh. “Do you remember the small figurine you made for my husband?”
    The memory of a happier time flitted across his face and lit his eyes. “The one with the deer?”
    “Yes. There have been times when I’ve wanted to smash it against the wall and watch it crumble into a thousand pieces because your hands touched it. I haven’t because it was a gift from my husband. I tell you this because I don’t want you to have any doubts as to what my feelings for you are. Do you understand?”
    Her words effectively snuffed out the light in his eyes. “Perfectly.”
    Meg swallowed, wondering if she’d been too harsh. She’d meant to lash out at him, but now that she had, she felt little satisfaction. Deep creases lined his weathered face. At first, she thought they’d surfaced because he was squinting at the sun, but even now, when his eyes had adjusted to the sunlight and he was no longer squinting, the grooves remained.
    She heaved a frustrated sigh, needing his help but sickened at the thought of asking for it. She decided her best approach was to ignore her abhorrence of this man and simply state her reason for being here. “I want a memorial built to honor the fine young men of Cedar Grove who gave their lives with courage during the war, and you’re the only person I know with the skills to make it.”
    “A memorial?”
    “Yes, a statue of some kind that we could put in the center of town.”
    “And you want me to make it?” “Yes. I realize—”
    Presenting his lean back to her, he slowly raked his fingers through his hair. She thought he was going to walk away, but he stood, gazing at something she couldn’t see. He turned back around, worry and concern etched across his features. “I haven’t cut any stone in a long while.”
    “Are you as afraid of this task as you were of the war?”
    Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized her. She tilted up her chin.
    “What kind of material did you want to use?” he asked. “I don’t know.”
    “What did you have in mind for it to look like?”
    “I’m not sure. The only thing I do know is that within the base, I want you to carve the name of every man who died.”
    “That would be twenty-two names.”
    Startled, she blinked, her fingers tightening on the reins. “You know how many men died?”
    “I can recite their names for you if you like.”
    “All of them?”
    “All of them.”
    “Oh … I see,” she mumbled.
    “You seem disappointed.”
    “No, I … I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
    “What did you expect?”
    His knowledge had caught her off guard. She herself hadn’t known the exact number of young men who had perished. She’d mourned them as a whole, focusing her deepest grief on the loss of Kirk and her brothers. Pulling back her shoulders, she regained her composure. “I didn’t expect you to be quite so willing to help. As to the fee—”
    “I don’t want payment.”
    Meg felt her shoulders slump. She’d wanted the satisfaction of telling him he’d do it because he owed them that much, that she wasn’t going to pay him anything. He shifted his stance as though suddenly uncomfortable and studied the ground.
    “There is the matter of the materials.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “I haven’t the means to purchase them.”
    Feeling the control slip back into her hands, she tilted her chin. “I have.”
    He nodded and something akin to hope plunged into the dark depths of his eyes. “I could sketch out some ideas tonight.”
    “I’ll want to look at them, of course. To put it bluntly—while you’re working on this project, I’ll be looking over your shoulder. I want it done to my specifications.”
    “On one condition.”
    In disbelief, she stared at him as though he’d suddenly donned a blue uniform. “I beg your pardon?” “I have one condition—” “Impossible. I’m