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“Don’t disappoint me.”
“I don’t plan to. Tell me about what happened with your father.”
“He and mother divorced when I was seven. The last thing he said to me was he promised he would come see me. He never did. He’s the one who told me from the time I started walking that he promised if I tried something I could do it.”
“So that’s where it comes from.”
“What?”
“The full court press you’ve been giving me to do my art again. You even said if I would just try. Sometimes it takes more than that. You have to want to try.”
She pursed her lips. “And you don’t?”
“I have tried. It’s not there. I don’t want that world anymore. I’m satisfied here.”
Laurel knew better than that by spending the last twenty-four hours with him. She’d seen it in his face when he described his work. “I don’t believe that.”
He shrugged.
They were both quiet for a few moments.
He pulled his boots to him. “I’m going to get firewood before it gets dark.”
“While you’re gone do you mind if I see about supper. You cooked for me, so I thought I’d give it a whirl tonight.”
“Sure. That would be nice. I get tired of my cooking. To have someone else do it would be great.” He finished putting on his boots, picked up his jacket, and headed for the door.
With Brandon gone, Laurel let out a breath of relief. The past few hours had been intense. In more ways than one. They needed some time apart. She went to the kitchen to see what she could find. To her surprise, he had a well-stocked refrigerator and pantry. She took out a roast and gathered some vegetables. She could cook a nice pot roast with vegetables.
While she worked, Brandon made trips in and out carrying firewood. By the time he returned with the second load, she had the roast in the pot, and by the third the potatoes, onions, and carrots were tucked in as well.
He removed his boots. “Somethin’ smells delicious.”
“Pot roast and vegetables,” she proudly announced.
“Sounds wonderful. Do I have time for a shower before it’s ready?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
He gathered clothes and headed into the bathroom removing his shirt as he went. The small door clicked close.
Laurel threw a log on the fire and sat down in Brandon’s chair pulling her feet beneath her. She checked her messages on her phone then sent a quick text to her cousin letting her no she would be there tomorrow at the earliest. Putting the phone in her purse, her hand bumped the little book. She pulled it out.
Opening it to where she had left off, she continued reading the story of a couple falling in love. As she read, she didn’t miss any of the notes written in the margin. She’d never seen anything like this book. She had become engrossed in other couples’ love lives.
The sound of the bath door opening drew her attention. When Brandon didn’t immediately exit, she returned to the book.
All the people who had written in it had found true love. They had made promises to each other. What would it be like to have that in her life? She hadn’t seen it in her parents’ marriage, hadn’t been able to maintain a positive relationship with a man. But she still believed in finding a happily ever after. Could she take that chance? Brandon had said with confidence he stood by his word. Despite her experiences, Brandon had her thinking promises had meaning.
Fifteen minutes later, Brandon stepped into view. Her eyes widened. He’d combed his hair back and had trimmed his beard to a fashionable length. She could now see his strong square jaw and his firm, full mouth. Heaven help her, he was gorgeous. In fact, he would make an excellent model for one of his own sculptures.
“Oh wow, this is unexpected.”
He ran his hand along his chin. “I figured if somebody was going to make me a pot roast, the least I can do is clean up for the occasion. Do you like it?”
“Yeah.” She liked it too much. “I’m not disappointed,” she said softly. “Not at all.”
Laurel stuffed the book into her purse. She wanted her own fairytale. Like those she’d been reading.
