Home > Heart & Soul (Lost & Found #5)(10)

Heart & Soul (Lost & Found #5)(10)
Author: Nicole Williams

“Can you believe Garth?” she said suddenly, breaking a few minutes of silence. “It’s a miracle. A miracle among other miracles.”

I had to consciously clear my head in order to respond. “Yeah, I know. I can’t believe he made a full recovery.”

“Oh, not that. Though I guess that’s a miracle of sorts too.” Her brush stopped before her bare feet took a few steps back to inspect the painting. “The miracle I’m talking about is the one having to do with him finally proposing to Josie and quite possibly the even bigger one of her agreeing to marry him.”

The longer she stared at the painting, the more her left foot rose up onto its toes, twisting on its ball. That was something she did, unconsciously I was certain, whenever she inspected something she was working on. I didn’t mention anything about it because I thought it was pretty damn adorable, and I kind of liked knowing something about her that even she wasn’t aware of. Her toenail color changed on a regular basis, no color too bright or unconscionable for her. I’d started to pick up that her nail polish color went with her mood for the day or week.

Since she’d arrived at Willow Springs and spent the first half of the summer with black nails and toes, I probably should have picked up on that theme earlier, but I had an excuse for being a little slow on the uptake—I was a guy.

Today though, she’d painted her toes a screaming bright orange so vivid I wasn’t sure the most tropical of sunsets could ever match its hue. Last week it had been a sparkly teal, almost identical to the flashy bass boat a certain Mason brother owned and had tried to invite me out on the last time I was in town. I might have liked to fish and I might have liked to fish for bass, but my family would have to be starving with no other option for food before I’d climb into a boat with Colt Mason and spend a day fishing with him. It took one full, clearing breath to rid my mind of Colt Mason before I could rejoin the conversation. From peanut butter to miracles to toenails to Colt Mason. I was all over the board tonight.

“Garth’s wanted to marry Josie since the day he saw her.” I stopped to clear my throat when I could still hear the stirrings of resentment in my voice. The mere thought of Colt Mason made my blood boil in about two seconds flat, and it wasn’t in a hurry to cool down either. “That’s not that hard for me to believe.”

Rowen’s foot continued to rise up onto her toes and twist to some imaginary beat. “Yeah, but how long’s he wanted to and not done anything about it? Garth’s too much like me—we don’t like to believe we’re worthy of the things we want most. He’s even worse than I am actually. That’s why it’s a miracle he proposed to her.”

I noticed her elbows stab up into the air for a few moments before they fell back at her sides, leaving behind a paintbrush, bristles still dribbling paint, pointing toward the sky. When rubber bands were in short supply, paintbrushes were a quick and convenient way to get her hair out of her face.

“I’m a bit concerned that you just compared yourself to Garth,” I said.

“What can I say? We’re kindred spirits.”

My brows hit my hairline. “What am I then? If Garth’s your kindred spirit?”

Her foot stopped twisting, and the heel lowered back to the floor. Then her heels clacked together, not three times but two. That meant she liked what she’d just inspected with a scrupulous eye. I’d picked up on lots of things I’d never noticed about Rowen—kind of a side effect of being afraid to blink when she was close by.

Done with her heel clicking ritual, she came around the side of the canvas. On her face was a smile . . . and paint. Lots of paint. I couldn’t tell if she’d mistaken her forehead for the canvas instead of the four-by-four foot thing I’d spent countless hours staring at the back of. I had to rub at my mouth to keep her from picking up on my grin, but really, it was impossible to look at her speckled and splattered face looking like a rainbow had just dried itself all over her without smiling.

If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead she held her smile in place and moved toward me, intention filling her eyes. “My soul mate.”

I stopped trying to hide my smile and waved her closer.

“You feel better now?” she asked. “Or are you still put out I suggested Garth and I are kindred spirits?”

I’d been too busy staring at her face to notice that it wasn’t the only part of her marked and dotted with color. She was wearing one of my big white shirts, which she’d taken to wearing to bed after her stomach started to stretch through her own sleep tanks and tees. When she’d first slid into one of my shirts a month ago, she’d looked as though she could have gone parachuting in it. The bottom had just barely cleared her knees. Slowly though, day after day, I’d watched that shirt creep higher and higher up her legs as her stomach grew. By the end, the fabric would be stretched and pulled across that part of her where it still hung, but I could just make out the faintest of swells if I looked really close.

I loved her in my old shirts. I loved that she wore them to sleep in. I loved that within the confines of that cotton was the woman I loved and the baby we’d created as a result of that love.

So that was what I attempted to focus on when she folded herself into the chair with me, wiggling and twisting until she found just the right position on my lap. I didn’t think about her sick heart, which was also inhabiting that space. That same heart that threatened to take my family away from me in one tragic moment.

   
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