A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he pulled a stalk of grass out of the ground and slipped it between his lips. He covered his mouth when he worked so she never had an opportunity to study his lips as she did his hands, but she imagined his mouth could create haunting whispers as tenderly as his hands did.
“Spice,” he said quietly.
Disbelieving, Meg blinked. “Did he tell you everything about me?”
His smile broadened as he turned his gaze on her. “He didn’t tell me which cake was your favorite, but when you were cutting pieces, you weren’t as generous with the spice cake. Figured you wanted to make sure you had a piece left over for yourself.”
Shaking her head, Meg smiled. “You’re right. The spice is my favorite, and I am stingy with the pieces.”
“I’d hardly call you stingy. Not with the feast you brought today.” He removed the grass from his mouth and tossed it aside. She watched his throat work as though he fought for the words. “I appreciate that you brought the twins a picnic. When I made the plans for yesterday, I didn’t consider that they’d do without.”
“It didn’t seem to bother them.”
“Well, it bothered me.”
“I don’t think there’s much you can do about it as long as they stick to your side the way they do.”
“It ought to get better once we harvest the crops, and I finish the monument.”
“Why will it get better then?”
“Because I’ll be moving on.”
Meg felt as though he’d just hit her in the chest with his hammer. “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know, but I figure sitting on top of a mountain by myself would be better than being here.” Plowing his hands through his hair, he sighed deeply. “God, I’m so damn lonely.”
Meg’s heart lurched. He was lonely, unhappy, and miserable. All the things she’d wished on him, he’d acquired without completing the monument. He hadn’t admitted he was a coward, but she was certain he would before he finished carving the names into the base.
She should feel like dancing. Instead, she had a strong urge to ask him what kind of cake was his favorite.
He pointed to the center of the clearing. “You need to be quiet now. He’s coming.”
Cautiously, Meg slid her gaze forward and watched the squirrel scamper toward her. The squirrel stopped shy of Meg’s hand and sat on its haunches.
“He won’t take it,” she whispered.
“Shh. He will.”
She held her breath. Her nose itched. She crinkled her nose and the itching increased.
The squirrel dropped its front paws and stretched out, sniffing the air around her hand. Then he snatched the pecan from her hand and scurried away.
Closing her hand, Meg cradled it against her chest and laughed. “I can’t believe he took it.”
She heard a noise and glanced over her shoulder to see the twins sauntering toward her, rubbing their bellies. They dropped to the ground in front of her.
“I ain’t never ate so much in my whole entire life,” Josh said.
Leaning forward, Meg scratched their stomachs. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Clay, it don’t hardly seem enough to tell Miz Meg that she cooks the best food in the whole state. We was wonderin’ if we could share the bats with her.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Warner has seen the bats,” Clay said.
“The bats?” Meg asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Josh said. “They look like smoke risin’ out of the hills when the sun goes down.”
