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“What do you do all day?”
“Mostly I stay busy doing chores and chopping wood. Occasionally going to town. And apparently getting almost run over every once in a while.” He gave her a pointed look.
“I told you I was sorry about that.” She gave him a syrupy smile.
“I don’t go into town often because I don’t want to scare women and small children.”
A quizzical look covered her face. “What do you mean by that?”
“My hand bothers people. As much as I enjoy sharing my artwork I don’t enjoy being stared at.”
“No one would enjoy that. But the more you’re around people the more they get used to your hand. They’ll quit looking if you give them a chance.”
“They didn’t where my grandfather was concerned.” Brandon had hated the way his grandfather had been treated but the man had taken it in stride. Somehow Brandon couldn’t do that.
She put her fork down and placed her elbows on the table resting on chin on top of her clasped hands. “He was missing fingers as well?”
“No, his arm. His entire life people stared at him. As a kid I would go to the store and watch people point at him. Laugh and turn away.”
“Did he say he minded?”
Brandon thought a moment. “No, I guess he didn’t. If someone asked him about not having an arm, he took the time to explain he was born that way.
“As a kid I can remember other kids running up to him then squealing and running away. I’m not interested in being a freak. As much as I like showing my art. I don’t want to be the center of attention because of the loss of half my hand.”
“Fair enough. Will you tell me more about your grandfather?”
Brandon wasn’t sure he wanted to let her further into his life. What would be the harm? At this point, she already knew his darkest secret. “He was a great man. Super smart and very successful. He never considered it a disability. A challenge sometimes but nothing more. He was even a scratch golfer. But few people recognized that at first. What they saw was a man with one arm. I don’t want to be treated that way.”
“You could maybe take a lesson from him.”
Laurel had a way of making him think. “It could be he had a supportive family and marriage. I lost my fiancé,” he raised his hand, “over this accident. She said she couldn’t stand my deformity. Couldn’t deal with my touch, but the truth was she couldn’t stand the fact that I was no longer living the bright-lights big-city life. She enjoyed all that glitz and glamour. Being on my arm at shows and events. She didn’t get to do that after the accident. And the idea of having to help me do simple things like button my shirt didn’t appeal to her.”
Laurel gave him an “I am sorry” look. She stood and reached for his empty plate and stacked it on top of hers. “I’ll wash since you cooked.”
He rose at the same time, brushing against her as they went in opposite directions. Heat washed through him. The urge to bring her close made him shove both hands into his pockets. “Sorry. This cabin is small for two people. While you’re doing the dishes, I’ll chop wood. Then I’ll show you the way back to town.”
“You have no trouble chopping wood?” She looked toward his hand.
“I’ve learned how to do it.”
“Mmm.” She nodded.
He could almost hear her thoughts. If he could learn to adjust to splitting wood, then he could learn to do his art again.
She asked, “Instead of showing the world your talent you’re just gonna stay out here the rest of your life?”
ChapterFive
Brandon pulledon his jacket and placed the knit cap on his head. He opened the door, letting in a burst of cold air before he closed it behind him. Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs with the crispness as he looked at the blue sky. The fresh snow had left the ground pristine.
He needed this. To get away from Laurel’s questions. She had him tied in knots. He’d admitted to stuff he’d never said to anyone. Laurel had a way of getting him to share his feelings. This stranger who almost ran him over and showed up at his door wanting him to flip his life around, she’d shown more compassion and understanding than he’d ever known. Yet she dared him to do more.
Laurel filled his cabin and pushed in directions he didn’t want to go. To make matters worse, he was aware of her, too aware. It had been so long since he had been with a woman that maybe he was just super sensitive to her. With every touch, his desire increased.
He went around the cabin to the chopping block. With a mighty swing, he split a log. This was part of his morning ritual. His way of getting exercise. Today it was about working off his frustration. The physical exertion helped him keep his emotions in check. He pulled back and slammed the ax into another log.
It was also his way of staying in touch with wood. If he couldn’t create out of wood, at least he could enjoy the feel and smell of split logs and watching a pile grow. His shoulders burned. He stopped to roll them. His eyes went wide. He had left Laurel in the cabin alone. Had she looked behind the curtains?
