Becoming Calder(23)

"Will you tell me about them?" Calder asked, very gently.

I sighed, struggling to remember. "They were both blond." I took a piece of my own hair between my fingers and then let it fall. "Surprising, right?" I smiled and so did Calder. "And um, my mother, she smelled like flowers." I closed my eyes and inhaled as my mind conjured up her sweet, delicate scent. When I opened my eyes a minute later, Calder's head was tilted as he watched me, and his eyes looked darker somehow. I swallowed.

"What else?" he whispered.

"I think my dad did some kind of work with other people's money. And my mom, she didn't work, at least not that I recall. We lived in Cincinnati, I do know that." I shrugged. "I know they were good friends with Hector. I remember him being in our home. I remember my mother telling me we were coming to live with him. Here I'm assuming. But then . . . they were gone, and it was only Hector and me in a different house for a long time, years maybe. That's it. I've tried so hard to remember more from the time before, but it simply won't come. And I was young, I suppose."

"Do you know how your parents died?"

"It was a car accident. That's all I know."

Calder had his bottom lip between his teeth again in that way he had when he was thinking hard about something.

"What?" I asked.

He let his lip free, licking along it with his tongue before responding. "Nothing. I'm just sorry you lost your parents is all."

I had the feeling he had been about to say something else, but didn’t. I nodded anyway and said, "Thank you."

"So," he said, starting to get up. "Tomorrow? Same time? Same place?"

I stood, too, and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. Um," I nodded toward the pad in his hands, "can I see your sketch?"

He looked down at it. "Oh. Yeah, sure." He turned it around and my breath caught.

He had sketched our—for suddenly that's what it was, ours—spring. He had only used charcoal pencil, but somehow it was lush and beautiful, the shadows and highlights hinting at the depth of color in the water, the rocks, the grass, and the sky. It was . . . breathtaking.

"Calder. You're . . . I've never seen anything that good. You've never had any lessons?"

He shook his head, watching me closely as if it mattered very much to him what I thought.

"You're just gifted, then. Very, very gifted." I felt awed by his talent and I was sure it must show in my expression.

He held it out to me. "It's for you."

I grinned, accepting it. "Thank you. Today, here with you, was a wonderful birthday gift." I began to carefully roll up the sketch so that I could carry it with me.

His expression took on surprise. "It's your birthday?"

I shook my head. "Tomorrow. I'll be seventeen. But this here," I hugged the rolled paper to my chest delicately, "is the best gift I could have ever asked for."

"No. No way. If I had known it was your birthday, I would have sketched one of you. A portrait." He smiled. "Tomorrow. On your actual day."

I smiled back. "Okay." I held up the canvas bag with all the supplies in it. "Should we hide this somewhere?"

Calder looked around and then took the bag from me and walked it over to a group of rocks to his right, placing it between two rocks sitting at an angle so it was like a mini-cave. He picked up a rock next to him and put it directly in front of the opening so it couldn't be seen.

We walked up the trail and when we got close to the top, he stopped and nodded at me to go before him so we wouldn't exit together.

When I got back to the main lodge, I walked quietly upstairs and unrolled the sketch of our spring, looking at it for several long minutes before rolling it back up again. I hid it in the far corner under my bed, and I stowed my time with Calder in a quiet, private corner of my heart.

I hadn’t been completely certain Calder would return today, whether he would decide it was too risky, or if he would decide he wasn't interested. And yet he had. His patience was unending as he taught me basic math. I hadn’t felt stupid, or ashamed as I started to grasp what must seem like such elemental things to him. It felt good to learn, to stretch my mind further than its normal boundaries. And as I went to bed that night, my heart felt full.





CHAPTER SIX




Calder



While I waited for the birthday girl, I looked around for the perfect portrait location, finally deciding on a large rock just to the left of the spring. It was lightly sun-dappled, mostly shaded by larger rocks. It would be perfect for her to lie back on while I sketched her.

I pictured Eden reclining there, her dress outlining her slim shape, her shirt molded to her small, round breasts, and my blood heated.