Page 108 of The Lies I've Told
“How to work with clay? I’m fairly certain anyone can do that. It’s pretty straightforward.”
“No.” She slapped my shoulder in a playful manner. “And I’m quite sure you just insulted every clay sculptor in the world with that comment.”
I simply shrugged.
“Will you teach me to carve?”
My chest tightened. Just when I thought I couldn’t love this woman more.
“Yes,” I answered, my voice strained with emotion.
It was the reason I’d brought her in here, but I’d thought I’d have to talk her into it.
The fact that she’d beaten me to it…
It made my heart swell.
“It requires a great deal of patience. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“Well, you had an excellent teacher. I’m sure I do as well,” she said.
My thoughts went to my brother for the briefest moment and our matching stone birds.
“I think, unfortunately for you, mine was better.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Her attention was already shifting to the long wall where I’d laid out my chisels.
“Why don’t you grab a chunk of granite, and I can teach you how to make your very own stone animal?” I suggested.
“Why can’t you teach me on the memorial?” she asked, her gaze drifting to the door.
Mine followed where the sun was already setting behind the house, the sound of crickets filling the air.
“Uh, well…”
“You don’t trust me?” Her face carried a smile, but beyond that, I could see a deep worry setting in.
Shit. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her. I could guide her stroke and make sure every tap of the hammer was accurate.
I’d be there every step of the way.
My eyes shifted to the door once again and then to the small window next to it. It was nearly black outside. Finally, I looked back at Millie, her smile wavering.
“You’re right,” I said. “A stone animal is for amateurs. Let’s go see how you fare with the big granite rock.”
She beamed with happiness. “Now you’re talking!”
“Why don’t you head on out? I’m going to see what I can grab for lighting, and I’ll meet you out there.”
She hopped over to me, placing a kiss on my cheek. “Good idea. We wouldn’t want to be blind out there.”
“No”—I swallowed hard—“definitely not.”
I’d done the best I could with adding extra lighting around the stone pillar, but the majority of the lighting inside the shed required electricity—something that was sorely lacking outside of it.
“Do you maybe want to do this tomorrow?” I asked, walking up toward her after setting up a few strategically placed flashlights. It was woefully unimpressive.
