Page 54 of Sin and Redemption

“For a historic movie,” Sara said with raised eyebrows.

I shrugged with a chuckle. “No, it’s really good. But I won’t turn into a history buff, sorry. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“I know.”

I frowned, wondering if our differences bothered Sara. “Was Paolo interested in history?”

I wasn’t sure why I even brought him up. He’d never been a topic in our marriage. From what I heard, he had already married a young woman from Baltimore.

Sara angled her body to me and put her arm up on the backrest. “Paolo?” She shook her head with a look of honest confusion. “I don’t know. I never spent time with him. And I don’t expect you to like the same things I do. Or do you expect me to enjoy guns and knives, and…”

She trailed off, probably referring to violence or something of the sort. Maybe this was the best proof of how little we knew about each other. “That’s part of my job. It’s not all there is to me.”

She flushed. “So you don’t like it?”

“No, most of the time I do. But it’s not what’s really important to me.”

“Then what is?”

“My family, our dogs, the woods. I love the outdoors and the sense of freedom it gives me. Nature’s rules are simple; humans are complicated.”

Sara let out a small laugh. “That’s true.”

“You used to love pottery, but you haven’t done it since we got married.”

Embarrassment filled her face. “I haven’t used your gifts yet either. I know.”

“I didn’t say it to make you feel guilty. I just want to know why.”

She looked down at her fingers, which were playing with a loose thread on her white wool tights. “I loved the moments of pensiveness I had when I did pottery. I don’t enjoy being in my head as much anymore.”

I grimaced, realizing why. “You could do pottery in a more distracting setting. That way, you wouldn’t have to be in your head.”

“But where could I do pottery here?” she asked, motioning around us.

“I could make some room in my fitness room.”

She bit her lip with a sheepish smile. “Have you ever seen how big a potter’s wheel is? And I’d need an oven to fire my pottery.”

“To be honest, before you, I thought pottery was something nuns or grandmas did.”

Sara’s eyes lit up with indignation. “That’s so not true. The pottery art scene is so lively and creative. It’s not boring or old-fashioned as you make it sound.”

“You’ll have to show me. I’ll get a potter’s wheel into the room, and you’ll use it.”

“Okay. I sold the wheel I used before, so we’ll have to order a new one, which will take a few weeks. I never had a kiln. You need a good place for it because of the heat.”

“We could set up an oven in my parents’ barn.”

“If we can remove any fire hazards, that would be a great idea.”

Seeing her honest smile and the way it lit up her eyes, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

When I came home the next day, the kitchen smelled of homemade chili, but Sara wasn’t there. Taking my gun out, I went in search of her and found her in our rooftop garden, cuddled up in several blankets on the swing seat in front of the gas hearth.

“May I?” I asked.

She jumped, then let out a small laugh as she peered up at me. “You startled me.”

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