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“Oh, dear. So how did they end up married to each other?”
“Apparently, it came to Max’s attention that no one he introduced to Ellie was ‘good enough’ for her.” He turned to her once more. “They got married back in January and expect their first baby in October.”
“What a wonderful story!” Indeed the tale had almost brought tears to her eyes. To have someone who held you in such high regard that no one else would do . . .
She gazed at the passing scenery, thinking about her pathetic life. Who was she fooling in going about with Hunter? She wasn’t stupid; she knew he was attracted to her in the way a man showed interest in a woman. No matter how hard she tried to excuse her actions, in her heart she knew she was being very unfair to him. Depression overwhelmed her at the mess of her life.
Hunter reached over and laid his hand on hers. “What’s the matter, honey? You look so sad all of a sudden.”
She brushed a few tears away and smiled. “Nothing. I’m just touched by your sister’s story.”
“I’ll have Tori invite you for dinner one Sunday when the entire family gathers. That way you can see for yourself they’re all not as wonderful as you might think.”
Within minutes Hunter braked in front of a spot that could only be described as a slice of heaven. The sun peeked through the leaves, covering the ground with a dappled pattern. Wildflowers grew over the area, and the sunlight on the pond sparkled like bits of diamonds.
They strolled hand in hand until they found a nice quiet spot under an oak tree near the pond. Once the blanket was spread out they relaxed against the tree, still holding hands. They shared an apple, the sweet crunchiness in her mouth adding to the perfection of the day.
Hunter tossed his apple core toward the pond. “I have a surprise for you.”
Emily’s heart jumped. A good surprise or a bad one? Had Hunter been asking questions about her?
“What?” She hated the uneasy sound of her voice.
He winked. “I’ll be right back.” He rose and walked to the blanket, then pulled up the edge. Underneath was a brown bag that he withdrew and handed to her, a shy smile on his face. “For you, Miss Cabot.”
Taking the package from his hand, her heart contracted as she watched him. Her face flushed and she laughed when she opened the bag. A sketch pad and several well-sharpened pencils filled the space. “How did you know?”
Sitting back down alongside her, he said, “A few times you’ve mentioned you like to draw and since I’ve never seen you do it, I thought you might need supplies.”
“Yes. I do like to draw, and you are right, I have no supplies.” She hugged the pad to her chest. “Thank you so much. This means a great deal to me.”
He drew his knees up and rested his wrists there. Looking out toward the pond he said, “Did you leave your drawing materials at home in Louisiana when you came to Guthrie?”
She immediately went on alert. “Yes. I didn’t have much room in my suitcase so I didn’t bring them with me.”
He plucked a piece of grass and brought it into his mouth, chewing on the end. “I understand. Travelling with a heavy suitcase can be a problem.”
She flushed, knowing he didn’t believe her. Of course not, how much does a sketch pad and a few pencils weigh? She’d been so focused that day in just running, she’d left everything behind that she couldn’t fit in her reticule. Which meant she’d escaped with nothing more than the clothes on her back, the letter from The Harvey House, and her money.
Hunter continued to chew on the blade of grass. He really didn’t want to make Emily uncomfortable, and he loved buying her the sketch pad and pencils, seeing her eyes light up that way. If only she would confide in him.
He pulled the grass from his mouth and waved at the pad. “I’d love to see you draw something.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never drawn in front of anyone, except my parents.”
“Do they encourage your artwork?”
Emily shook her head. “They died over three years ago.” She seemed to pull herself back from the brink of something unhappy when she forced a smile and looked at him. “They loved my drawings. Once Mama recovered, she hung them all over the house. Even the ones she missed from when I was very young.”
“Recovered? Was she ill?”
She looked taken aback as if she hadn’t meant to say that.
“Um, she suffered from melancholy for a few years.”
“And your father?”
“Papa loved my artwork, too. He would boast about my talent to all his friends. It was quite embarrassing actually.” The warmth and animation on her face when she spoke of her father was the first genuine emotion Hunter had seen from her. No clues there. Both parents dead. Another blank wall.
