that contrasted with his deep tan. She looked away, hurrying to grab the tape measure, pencil and other items she’d left on the bed. When she returned he smiled again, this time less confident—a little boy smile on a man’s face.
Shy? Or unsure?
“Here it is.” She gave him an inventory of what she had and put it all on the folding table near the window, along with the drill and the parts for the mini blinds.
“Thank you. And now you sit down.”
She did as he ordered, sitting on one of the old plastic chairs that had probably been in the building since the 1950s. They were faded yellow and orange and not at all comfortable. She wouldn’t get rid of them, though. They were a part of the past, like the black-and-white photos on the wall. They connected her to this place, made her feel as if it had become her history, her town.
Reese measured the inside of the window using his hand to make sure the space was the same distance down on both sides. He then tacked a small nail in place. She didn’t know why but she didn’t question.
“So tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.” He smiled as he reached for the brackets that would attach to the wall.
“Not a lot to tell.”
“Were you a shy child or outgoing?” He held up a package of screws. “And I need four of these for each end. Could you find the right ones for me?”
“I can.” She took the plastic package from his hand. “I was shy. I never quite...”
She found eight matching screws and handed him four.
“Never quite?”
“Nothing.”
He didn’t turn away. Instead he stepped closer, and then he brushed the seat next to her with his hand and sat down. “Never quite what?”
“Not now, Reese.”
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
She smiled because he smiled, disarming her, making her think that they could really be friends if given a chance. “My sister was born when I was five. Surprise! All of a sudden I was the child they shouldn’t have
adopted. They should have had more faith in God. They should have waited for Melissa.”
His expression softened, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry they made you feel that way.”
She knew he meant it. Of course he did. But she also knew that he probably had some similar feelings about marrying her. He’d married her on impulse. Someday the right woman would come along, and he’d be sorry he’d rushed ahead of God and married her.
“I’m sure they didn’t mean to.” She whispered the words for fear saying them too loud would bring an onslaught of tears that she couldn’t control.
“Is that why you went to Vegas?”
She closed her eyes and fought emotion that tightened her throat. The baby kicked against her ribs, and she touched her belly, letting her hand rest where her baby fought for space inside her. She breathed deep.
“I just wanted to...” To be loved. Unconditionally.
“You wanted?” His voice was soft—raspy soft.
She breathed deep again, this time to get through a pain that tightened around her belly. “Could we let this go?”
“I think we can. Have you called them lately?”
“No. Reese, they don’t want to hear from me. I was their mistake. They adopted me when I was six months old, and they regretted it for the next seventeen years.”
“I don’t know how they could regret having you.”
She stood, needing space, needing to breathe deep. “Don’t you regret telling a dancer in Vegas that you would marry her?”
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