The Carpenter & the Queen Read Online Free PDF

bull’s eye, but the arrows burrowed in the hay bales most
of the time. One skidded over and embedded itself in the ground
somewhere in the yard behind. He called the dog over to help him
look, and Claire lost sight of them in the backyard. Glancing at
her watch, she saw she should go back soon if she wanted to stop at
the library before it closed. She suddenly had an interest in
archery and hoped to find a book or two about it.
    The boy reappeared a few moments later,
holding a tennis ball and working the dog up to a frenzy as he
pretended to throw it. Laughing, he tossed the ball back behind the
bales where the dog retrieved it eagerly. After repeating this
process a few times, the boy looked up and down the dirt road,
then, to Claire’s dismay, threw the ball in her direction. He
couldn’t see her, could he? The ball bounced about ten feet beyond
her down the trail. She kept still, hoping the dog would just go
after the ball and leave her alone.
    Intent on its mission, the dog didn’t see
her immediately, but on its way back to its master, it picked up
her scent, dropped the ball, and barked repeatedly.
    “What is it, Toby? Found a squirrel?”
    Claire tried to shush the dog, but it just
kept barking. She saw the boy coming across the street and
panicked. She rose to her feet, causing the dog to bark even
more.
    The boy reached the dog, followed its gaze,
then jumped when he spotted Claire.
    “Hi.” Claire tried to smile.
    He looked as startled as she did. They
stared at each other for several awkward seconds as Toby continued
to bark. Finally, the boy broke his gaze and called the dog
off.
    Now that he was closer, Claire could see he
was even cuter than she had thought from a distance.
    “Sorry I scared you,” he said.
    “No, no. My fault.”
    He glanced at her blanket where her box of
pastels and the drawing of the house were clearly visible. Feeling
an explanation was necessary, Claire spoke.
    “I was drawing, and your house is really
interesting. I didn’t mean to spy . . .”
    “Can I see?”
    With a shrug, she picked up the notebook and
handed it to him.
    “I didn’t know you lived here—who lived
here,” Claire stammered. “I just wanted to draw it, so I was out
here when you came out and I . . . well, I . . .”
    “You’re good.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I’m Will.” He stuck out his hand.
    “Claire.”
    She pulled her hand back shyly after the
shake and tucked her hair behind her ear.
    “Do you live around here?” Will asked.
    “I’m staying with my grandma for the
summer.” Then, fearful this made her sound too young, she added, “I
work for her around the house to earn money for the school year.
I’m from Farmington Hills.”
    “Where’s that?”
    “Outside of Detroit.”
    “I’m from Toledo. I’m just visiting my dad
before I head off to college.”
    “That’s cool.”
    She bit her lip as several awkward seconds
passed.
    “I should get going.” She knelt to gather
her stuff.
    “More work?”
    “No, I’ve got to get to the library before
it closes and pick up a book.”
    Will knelt down beside her, put the box top
on her pastels, and handed them to her as she shoved her supplies
into her backpack. Having him so close made her blush.
    “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,
then.”
    “Yeah.” She smiled. “Maybe.”
    She slung the backpack over her shoulder.
“Nice to meet you, Will.” She raised a hand in farewell, and
started down the path walking sideways, unwilling to turn her back
on him completely.
    “See you, Claire.”
    She gave him one last smile as he grinned
and crossed the road back to his house.
    Her grandma didn’t ask her about her
afternoon, and Claire didn’t tell her. She went to bed early,
allowing her grandma to believe she was tired, but once the guest
room door was shut, Claire stayed up late sketching a boy shooting
arrows in the courtyard of a medieval castle.

5
     
    January 2005, Lindberg, Michigan
    “I can come next weekend if you want me