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“We will. Thank you.” Gideon took Rosie’s hand in his as they walked away. Touching her was as necessary as breathing.
“Can we pan for gold now?” Noah was bo
uncing on his toes, excitement pulsing in every cell.
“Sure,” he and Rosie said at the same time. And the boys were off, leaving them to meander along.
“Can you imagine taking up a hobby like blacksmithing after you’ve retired?” Rosie looked at him, her eyebrows raised in amazement.
In the army, they’d always been busy. Busy was good, occupying your hands, your mind. “If you were able to make a living as an artist and didn’t have to do accounting anymore—” It was his goal to turn life as an artist into Rosie’s reality, because that was how talented she was. “—what would you choose as a hobby? Or would you paint all the time, never stopping?”
She gave it serious consideration. “I’d want a hobby too. Art can be exhausting, especially when you put your whole soul into it.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Unspoken, memories of the day at the Legion of Honor passed between them.
She squeezed his hand. “I know you do.” Then she looked at him, her gaze suddenly eager. “I’d choose something like stained glass. And I’d want to make my own patterns.”
The boys rushed back for money for the gold panning, while Rosie and Gideon slowly caught up. Under the trees, at four big panning tables, the enclosed pans filled with water and dirt were crowded with kids and parents alike.
“Do you want to pan?” she asked.
“No.” He wanted to watch the boys’ delight. And he wanted to listen to Rosie’s voice, learn everything he could about her. “Stained glass seems right up your alley. I can imagine every window filled with brilliant color.”
“Me too,” she said. Then she laughed and added, “Or maybe I’d take cooking lessons.”
“But you’re a great cook. The empanadas you made for the picnic at the Legion of Honor were great.” He was pretty sure he’d neglected to tell her that. He’d been in a darker world that day.
She grinned at him, her eyes alight. “I’m glad you thought so. But I’d like to try different kinds of cuisine. My papí taught me Mexican specialties, but the rest of what I make is pretty basic. I’d like to make really authentic Indian food or Chinese.”
The boys whooped when they found a flake of gold. “I’m sorry,” the attendant told them, “but that’s pyrite. It’s called fool’s gold.” The boys went on panning with no less enthusiasm.
“What would you do?” Rosie bumped Gideon’s arm companionably. He loved the ease between them.
“When I was on a job down in Riverside, I stayed in a rooming house where the garden was filled with fruit trees. My landlady had oranges and avocadoes and plums and cherries. Plus an overflowing vegetable garden. She let me have anything I wanted. I think that’s what I’d like to do. Grow my own fruits and vegetables.”
“I could learn all sorts of delicious ways to prepare them.”
He grinned. “I could build window frames for all your stained glass.”
“What a team.” She threw her arms around him, hugged him tight.
He didn’t want to let her go. Holding Rosie in his arms was like holding the stars and the moon. Like holding a beautiful, amazing flower and watching it bloom.
She settled against him, his arm around her shoulders as they watched the boys. “All your hobbies are like you,” he said. “Artistic, imaginative, creative.”
“And yours are outdoorsy, working with your hands.”
“I guess we do what we love. It would be kind of cool to make furniture too.”
She pulled back to look at him. “I’ve never heard you talk so much before.” She stroked a hand down his face. “I love it.”
“I’ve never had so much to say before.” It was as though telling her about Karmen, about the angel painting, about that day, the worst of his life, had popped the cork out of everything he’d bottled up inside. And now it all wanted to pour out of him.
For Rosie.
* * *
It was the best day ever.
