Page 39 of Curses and Cornstalks
Now, I see every flaw, every imperfect line. I knew it would be impossible to capture the details exactly, especially considering how divine my inspiration was.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “Open them.”
Cassie’s blue gaze jumps to me first before slowly shifting across the clearing. It takes a moment for her eyes to fall to the ground, and I hold my breath as she takes in the drawing. Emotions play over her face, and I do my best to decipher them, but she’s hard to read.
“What do you think?” I ask hesitantly.
I look at the drawing for the millionth time, at the curves and dips I’ve memorized over the last several days. The flowing hair, the supple lips, and glint in her eyes that I fought to get just right.
“Is that…” She takes a step closer, cocking her head to the side. “Me?”
“Yes.”
It’s only a portrait from the shoulders up—I plan to keep going until I run out of space—but the likeness is uncanny. At least, it is in my opinion.
I still can’t tell how Cassie feels about it.
“How long did this take?” she asks, moving closer still.
“Umm… a few hours.” I take my hat off and scratch the back of my head through the burlap. “Okay, a lot of hours.”
She kneels next to her likeness and drops her backpack to the ground, gently brushing her fingers over the edge of the drawing.
“This isincredible, Atticus,” she finally says. “Holy shit. It looks just like me.”
A weight I didn’t realize was weighing me down disappears, and I’m suddenly light as a feather.
“So, you don’t hate it?” I ask.
“What? Of course not!” Her head snaps in my direction, and she stares up at me. Confusion is clear in her eyes. “I just don’t know why you’d want to draw me, of all things.”
“Is it not obvious?”
She stands so we’re eye level, and I reach to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Even though my glove prevents me from feeling her skin, the contact has my skin heating.
“You, darling, are the first good thing to happen to me in over a century,” I say. “And a hundred years from now, I’ll still be thinking of you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cassie
A hundred years from now,he’ll still be thinking of me.And I’ll be dead.
My stomach pitches.
For whatever reason, that fact hasn’t crossed my mind before now.
He’ll live on, his soul cursed to haunt this cornfield forever, and I’ll age, grow old, and die. Like everyone in his family, everyone else he’s ever known.
Suddenly, the rest of my life doesn’t seem very long at all. Not when I compare it to the future that awaits Atticus.
As if our time together wasn’t already precious. Now, it feels sacred.
Hallowed.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I manage as my brain does mental acrobatics.
I’ve always known that nothing between Atticus and I could ever be sustainable. How could it?
