“Evenin’.”
Maddie gasped when Boone spoke up from his seat on the porch.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t, not really. I was just…thinking.”
He turned the piece of wood slowly in his hands, studying it with care. Maddie looked closer and realized that he was whittling it into a shape like—
“Devil! You’re carving the puppy’s likeness.” He was good, really good.
Boone shrugged. “Just something to pass the time.”
“But it’s so lifelike—how long have you been working on it?”
“Just started tonight.”
“Boone, you could do these and sell them. That’s really good. Have you been doing it a long time?”
“Off and on for years. Sometimes I’ve had a lot of time I’ve had to spend waiting.”
“Did you take lessons?”
He smiled as though she’d told a joke. “I never heard of whittling lessons. Though I guess I sort of did—my granddaddy used to whittle a lot. He said there was no right way or wrong way. You just start carving and try to miss your own thumb.”
She laughed, and when he joined her, something felt a little more right in her world.
“Boone, I’m sorry—”
“Maddie, I’m sorry—”
They both halted abruptly.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” he said.
“You were right, though, in a way. But I’d rather not make this into an armed camp, Boone. It’s only for a few weeks, but I’m not fond of making life harder than it has to be. Maybe you don’t need to know my life story and I know I don’t have a right to pry into yours, but I do have some things I really want to know.”
“Like what?” His eyes were wary.
“I’d like to know about my grandmother. And I’d like to hear about your mother, if you’d tell me about her. If my father loved her, I’d like to know who she was.”
Boone stared at the wood in his hands for so long that she was afraid he didn’t intend to answer. Then he looked up at her. “I was just a little kid when your grandmother died. I don’t really remember much about her. I just remember that she seemed very tall, though she was probably about your height—what, five eight or so?”
Maddie nodded.
“She was nice to me, but she always seemed sad.” He shrugged. “I didn’t understand, but I guess we do now, don’t we?” Frown lines appeared between his brows, but he didn’t try to deny what Sam’s letter had said. “Sorry. I’m not much help.”
“It’s more than I had.”
They were both silent for a long time, listening to the sounds of the night.
Then Boone spoke, but his voice was hushed. “My mother was probably too soft to be here.”
“On this ranch?”
“On this ranch…with my father…on this earth.” He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t guess she was an angel, but she was as close to one as I’ll ever see.”
He looked out across the distance. “She loved to cook, and she liked to laugh. She knew how to make things fun without needing any fancy trimmings. She worked hard, she was always busy, but she was never too busy to read us a story or let us help make cookies.”
He glanced up at Maddie. “She was small and pretty, with these big blue eyes and long blonde hair. I used to think when she read me fairytales that the princesses must have looked like her. No matter that she worked her fingers to the bone, there was always something about her that seemed like she didn’t quite belong in this world.”
“She must have loved you so much.”
He visibly recoiled. “You don’t know that.”
“No one could feel so loved and it not be real.”
Boone frowned but didn’t answer. Beneath those strong, gentle fingers a piece of a tree turned into a puppy before her very eyes.
Maddie was so fascinated that she wanted to sit close and watch him, but the night had been too long, too full of emotions. She yawned before she could stop herself. “I can’t get used to being sleepy so early. In the city, I never get to bed before one or two.”
“You’re just falling into the natural rhythms of the land.”
But I can’t afford to. She moved toward the door. “I’d better go clean up that kitchen, then head for bed.”
“It’s already cleaned.”
She stopped in her progression across the porch. “You did it?”
One shoulder lifted negligently. “You cooked. I cleaned.”
“But you put in a very long day already.”
“It was my fault you didn’t eat. I put your leftovers in the fridge.”