Page 26 of Losing Hope

ChapterTen

Hope woke slowly,a Cheshire-cat smile breaking across her face as she remembered the perfect evening she shared with Gage the night before. They had sat in front of the fire for hours, talking and laughing, before finally coming up to bed around midnight. She blushed crimson recalling the hour they spent after they came upstairs, him worshipping every inch of her, before finally succumbing to exhaustion and sleep.

She turned to look at him, still sleeping peacefully next to her. The blankets were gathered at his waist, exposing his lovely chest for her viewing pleasure. Her fingers twitched to run through the dusting of hair on his chest and explore every smooth groove that turned his stomach into a work of chiseled art, but she wanted to let him sleep.

Sighing dreamily, she slid silently out of the covers and tip-toed out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. After a quick stop in the bathroom, she stole down the stairs into the main house. She did a clean-up of their dishes from the evening before, took a quiche out of the freezer, and popped it in the oven. After starting some coffee, she added some sausage links to a frying pan to cook, as well. She smiled, knowing food would be waiting for him and his bottomless pit of a stomach when he wokeup.

While the food was cooking, she retrieved her computer bag from the entryway and brought it out into the kitchen. She took her laptop out and, while it was powering up, turned the sausages and made herself a cup of coffee.

Hope sat down in front of the computer and opened up her email frowning. Two days and almost two hundred emails sat waiting in her inbox. She clicked it shut and decided it could wait another day. She was taking a few days off, after all. Besides, what she really wanted to do is see if she could find anything out aboutGage.

Opening Google, she typed ‘Gage Flynn, Pennsylvania’ in the search field and hit enter. In a matter of moments, the search engine returned several pages of findings. Before she could click on anything, the timer on the oven went off for the quiche. She got up and turned the oven off then turned the burner off under the sausages, as well, covering the pan to keep themwarm.

After refilling her coffee, she moved to sit back at the computer again. She browsed the information that was returned and clicked on the link for a GF Photography website. His name was listed in the subtitle information, so she assumed this must be related to hiswork.

Bingo. As soon as the page came up, there was a page header announcing Gage Flynn Photography and links to his work. She clicked through them and found herself spellbound by his work. He had a whole gallery dedicated to pictures he took while deployed, documenting a side of the war she had never seen on television and knew would leave her haunted. He truly had a gift for capturing images and emotions in photos.

When she had viewed almost every gallery, she clicked back to the Google search page to see what other information she might find on him. Yes, she was snooping. She knew, if she asked him anything, he’d most likely answer as he seemed to be an open book, but sometimes Google was hard to resist. She scrolled down the page and froze when she caught the headline on one of the returned links: Obituary: Faith Julia Flynn, February 23, 2010.

Of course, she had to click. She wanted to know what happened. I mean, wouldn’t anyone be curious about that? The full obituary came up, and she started toread.

Faith Julia Flynn, 21, died on February 23, 2010. She was born June 15, 1988, in Millvale, Pennsylvania, the daughter of Camden and Rebecca Flynn. She attended Millvale schools and graduated from Millvale High School in 2006, where she was a member of the student council, the cheer squad, and the art club. She was currently attending Pratt Institute of Art, in Brooklyn, New York, on a full scholarship.

Faith is survived by her parents, Camden and Rebecca of Millville, and her older brother Gage Michael, currently enlisted in the United Stated Marine Corps. She also leaves her maternal grandparents, Connor and Sarah Sullivan, also of Millvale; and her paternal grandparents, Kelly and Briana Flynn of Adare, Ireland. She is also survived by several aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Funeral arrangements are being handled by the Conroy Funeral Home in Millvale. Calling hours will be Friday the 25th from 4pm to 7pm. The funeral will be private. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you consider donations to the Millvale High School Art program.

Readingthe obituary twice to see if she could discover more than what was said in the simple notice did no good. No cause of death was listed. What did that mean? Usually, that meant suicide or some kind of accidental death. No wonder Gage was reluctant to talk about his sister.

She was about to do a Google search on Faith but turned when she heard a creak on the stairs and saw Gage making his way downward. She quickly shut the screen on the laptop and got up to greethim.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” He was only wearing a pair of sweats, his bare torso teasing her once again, making it exceptionally easy for her to slide her arms around his waist and pull herself flush tohim.

“Good morning to you.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “How can you look this beautiful at 8:30 in the morning? And do I smell food? Did you actually cook something?”

Pushing away and playfully swatting him on one of his luscious pecs, she retorted, “I can cook. I just prefer to let you do itall.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Angel.” He grinned at her mischievously. “What did you make me, chef?”

Hope walked around the island to the stove and lifted the lid on the frying pan. She waved her hand over the pan. “We have sausage and…” She grabbed the pot holder from the counter with one hand, opening the oven door with the other, and pulled out the hot pie tin. “Mushroom and cheese quiche!”

He groaned at the deliciousness in front of him. “Woman, you keep this up and I’ll have to marryyou.”

Rearing back in surprise, the quiche slipped from her grip and clattered onto the stove top. “Shit!” She reached down to stop the pan from sliding off the stove, forgetting it just came out of the oven, and burnt the tops of her fingers as she made contact. “Ouch! Doubleshit!”

He sprinted around the island and took her fingers gently in his hand. Bringing them up to his lips, he slowly inserted one tip into his mouth at a time before blowing cool air over each wet digit, easing the burning shefelt.

“Better?” Concerned eyes met her panicked ones as she slid her fingers from his grasp and nodded herhead.

“Yes, thank you.” She turned to walk away, but he snaked a hand around her waist and held her in place.

“What was that all about?” He tilted his head toward the stovetop.

Blowing on her fingertips, she looked up at him shyly. “What? Nothing. I lost my grip on the pan. Do you want toeat?”

He shook his head, a sly, knowing grin working its way across his mouth. “It’s just an expression, Hope. A figure of speech.” He placed a curled knuckle under her chin and lifted, forcing her to look him in the eye. “I promise, that wasn’t a proposal for marriage.”

Her brow furrowed, internally smarting that he was so sure that he didn’t want to marry her, yet externally, she knew she should be relieved. “I knowthat.”

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