Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
She was a puzzle. But a good one, one he could tell by the outline he was going to like. But the vital parts remained mysterious. He kept wanting to go back and add pieces.
They’d put their jackets on to come out here, but the night was cold, and he crossed his arms against the chill. Lennon leaned over and opened the lid to a deck box and removed a couple of blankets and tossed one his way. She brought her legs up under her and wrapped the blanket around her, and he placed his over his lap. The wind chimes from the garden below tinkled in the slight breeze, and something pleasant met his nose from a nearby pot. “It’s peaceful out here,” he said. “And something smells good.”
“Rosemary,” she said, nodding to the potted plants. “And sage. My mom will burn some over you to drive out negative energy, if you want her to.”
He chuckled. “Negative energy? What is that exactly?”
She appeared to think about the question. “I don’t know. I was never given a definition.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound good, so I’m glad your mom has a remedy.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “Me too.” The wind chimes rang softly again. “But yes, this is a peaceful spot. I used to come out here in the mornings before high school and drink my coffee.” Something passed over her face that he couldn’t read in the dim light of the deck. Another one of those puzzle pieces that didn’t yet fit anywhere. “Of course, the world in general was more peaceful then. Ignorance is bliss and all that.”
He smiled. “It’s important for people who do jobs like ours to seek out moments of peace.” It was a sort of remedy, too, against getting sucked into the whirl of wickedness they confronted on a regular basis.
Her eyes held on him a moment before she let out an agreeable hum. “Those are hard to find.” She regarded him for a moment longer. “What was the last truly peaceful moment you can think of?” she asked.
She seemed to be hanging on his answer, and so he took a moment to really think about that. Then he blew a small gust of air, his breath appearing in front of him in a ring of white vapor. “About a year ago, on a cold morning in South America,” he said, “I watched a songbird’s breath whirl and rise in front of him as he sang. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.” He’d not only heard the melody being sung by that bird; he’d seen it, too, dancing through the air and then dissipating along with the notes. In his house, religion had been drummed into him from birth, used to shame and punish, but he’d never once felt the grace of God until that moment in an Argentine dawn. And when he doubted the underlying goodness of the universe—which was more often than he wished it were—he brought that ephemeral yet deeply poignant moment to mind.
Lennon had leaned her head back on the chair and was watching him, her expression soft. “South America,” she murmured. “Why were you there?”
He looked away. Damn. He kept telling these stories that set him up to lie to her, and he regretted it. He had to lie often in his line of work, and he usually did it with ease, because he knew well the end justified the means. But with Lennon . . . well, he didn’t like furthering falsehoods. Especially sitting on her family’s deck after being welcomed for dinner in their home. It made him feel low. “Just traveling,” he said.
“Where else have you been?”
“All over. I like to travel when I have time. What about you?”
“Me?” She played with the edge of her blanket. “I’ve never been out of the country.” He detected an almost imperceptible cringe. “But someday . . . I’d like to see the pyramids.” She smiled, and their eyes met, and he allowed his gaze to linger on her expression, dreamy and soft, so different from the pinched way she sometimes held her face at work. She’d opened her mouth to say something, when the sliding glass door opened, bringing Ambrose from his reverie.
They both looked up as her dad came through the doors, a telescope under one arm and a bowl of popcorn in his hand. “We should be able to see the comet any minute,” he said. “You two check if you can see anything while I get the drinks.” He set the bowl of popcorn down and handed the telescope to Lennon.
Lennon smiled over at Ambrose and then got up and extended her hand. He grasped it, and she pulled him up. “Let’s see if this comet has anything at all on that songbird,” she said.