Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Cam ran one hand through the dark hair hanging around his neck, giving her the smile that had never met a woman it couldn’t charm.
“He probably thinks it adds to his artist allure now that he’s gotten a taste of the big-time,” Walsh said.
Cam looked uncomfortable for a minute before rolling his eyes and rocking back on the heels of his black Italian leather boots. Paris must be treating him well.
“Yeah, that’s it, Bennett,” Cam said, coating the words in sarcasm.
“Did I miss something?” Martin asked. “You’re famous now, Cam?”
“No, sir.” Cam took off his coat and folded it over his arm.
“He’s being modest, Uncle Martin.” Jo linked her arm with Cam’s, leaning into his shoulder. “Someone made a documentary about Cam’s graffiti art in Paris and it won at Sundance.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time.” Cam tugged Jo’s hair and smiled at her wince. “Holding a can of spray paint.”
“And the two music videos that just featured your paintings?” Jo demanded, her face wearing a proud smile. “Was that a fluke?”
“Maybe not,” Cam said, giving her a fond shake. “You should keep all the sketches I’ve ever given you. They might be worth something some day.”
“I have every one of them.” Jo bit her lip and looked like she wanted to gobble the telling words back up.
Cam watched Jo an extra second before smiling and dropping a quick kiss on her hair, speaking before the silence grew awkward.
“Speaking of keeping my sketches, I have a little something for Walsh and Kerris.”
He presented the large square he’d brought back inside with him to Walsh before settling down on the couch beside Jo, draping her shoulder with his arm. Walsh carefully pulled away the brown paper shrouding the gift. He peered down at the canvas in his hands. He looked up at Cam’s somber face. Kerris saw Walsh swallow, gulping back the emotion she knew he had to be fighting. He slowly turned it around so that everyone could see.
Kerris’s breath caught at the beauty of it. It was Kristeene. The rich colors of the painting had been skillfully muted so that the most vibrant, most alive, most striking thing in the entire painting was her eyes. They were lit with the otherworldly gleam Kerris had noticed in her last days: a look of hard-won peace that only those facing death’s inevitable call could acquire. It was that resigned contentment, that gritty grace she’d gained in her horrific battle with cancer, but set in the face Kerris remembered when she’d first met her. Smooth and unlined by pain. Laughing, the regal bones pronounced against the smooth skin.
Kerris turned her head in the direction of a choked sound, astounded to see Martin Bennett struggling to his feet and walking over to stand beside Walsh, his fingers trembling as he traced the artful strokes of the painting.
“I sketched her that last day at the hospital before she went home for good,” Cam said, returning the squeeze Jo consoled his hand with.
“It’s magnificent,” Walsh breathed, blinking back tears. “You captured her perfectly, man. I can’t thank you enough.”
Kerris’s eyes locked with Cam’s in perfect understanding. This was as close to a blessing as they’d ever get from him. She mouthed “thank you,” smiling when his olive skin reddened and he inclined his head, acknowledging her gratitude.
“I have the sketch.” Cam rose from the couch and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a folded sheet of sketch paper, extending it to Martin. “Been carrying this around for a long time.”
Martin fixed his eyes on the likeness Cam had sketched in charcoal, firming his lips into a straight line.
“You can have it,” Cam offered with a half-smile to Walsh’s father.
“Thank you,” Martin said, his voice heavy with barely checked emotion.
Kerris glanced over at Meredith and Mama Jess, the only family she’d had for a long time, their loyalty the only thing she’d been able to count on during her long year of recovery. Somehow, miraculously, she had found Mama Jess again, and their bond had survived the worst circumstances and years of living apart.
Then there was Jo and Cam, now huddled on the couch, teasing and tickling each other, falling into their friendly intimacy like a habit they could never break. Blocking out the rest of the world like they often did. Tuning into each other and tuning out everything else. Kerris’s heart lifted with possibility for them. Maybe finally…maybe one day…maybe soon.
And then Kerris’s eyes fell on Walsh, who chose that moment to look up from the painting he still held and into her eyes. The same thread that had always stretched between them pulled strong, invisible, unbreakable. She saw her future in those eyes. The children she’d longed for; the family she’d coveted. As a little girl, she had prayed for a home, and he was that. He was her country. His heart was her homeland.