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Leaning back, I toss the pencil that was between my teeth onto the table. My mind as drowsy as my eyelids.
The sweet smell of flowers wafts in my nose. The bright colors are a nice distraction from the muted print I’ve been studying for hours.
Curling my toes underneath myself, I slump down farther into the plush velvet of the sofa, annoyed. What isn’t connecting? The answer’s here, it has to be.
Spotting the fountain in the center of the room, my tired lids feel weighted as I watch as the peaceful stream sprouts from the top and down to the bowl at the bottom.
The sheer grandness of it an impossible thing not to appreciate since Cole fixed it for me. Breathtaking, it’s as stunning as it is useful. Serving as the entire conservatory’s main source of irrigation.
Moving my head around more, I recognize that my glass house and I have been through a lot. Both of us needed some work, but once given the opportunity we thrived.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” I ask, stroking a petal from a bushel of flowers nearby.
The question is only meant for the things that grow inside my wonderland but it’s not them who respond.
“Always better to look ahead than behind. That’s what I’ve always said.”
I gape. “What are you doing here?”
Better question: how did you know this place existed? Or that I’d be here?
With his hands tucked in his pockets, he studies the room. “Military strategy. Face forward. Going backwards will only slow you down,” Sgt. Daniels states before coming to a stop.
If he’s impressed by the room’s grandness, I can’t tell. His face as blank as a piece of slate.
Making himself even more welcome, he takes the one empty seat beside me. I hug my knees tighter into myself. Shifting, I make room for the uninvited guest.
I lift my chin. “I wasn’t aware you knew of this room. Many don’t.”
Which is amazing considering the sheer size and the fact that it’s visible outside. Barely, and from a good angle if you’re in the backyard, but it’s here.
A low, raspy noise leaves his mouth. I know he can sense my curious gaze. It penetrates his profile the longer he refuses to answer me.
It also infuriates me, which I think he finds more amusing somehow.
I track his every move since I have nothing better to do. His gaze roams, scouring the unsorted papers that sit in a mess on the table. He doesn’t move them, only observes, but I doubt he needs to. He’s the one who found all this out, after all.
“I assume I don’t need to ask if you took these from Abram’s office without his knowledge.”
He lifts a knowing eyebrow and my mouth gapes. This guy.
“You can take them back if that’s what you’ve come looking for. I’m done with them.” I conclude, trying to hide my… displeasure?
“For tonight or will I find them back here come tomorrow again?”
“Does it matter either way?” I bite back.
This is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with Eli’s father and I’m not any closer to figuring out how he knew about this place or how he found me.
“It does, believe it or not.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re done with them, it means you’ve found the answer or given up. But if you take them again, it tells me you aren’t done and there’s hope.”
I stare at him slack-jawed, imploring.
Some sort of unspoken wisdom gleamed from his expression. A new swell of hopeful determination sparks inside my tired frame.
