glass on the table and returned to the ladder at the far corner of the room. Soon he was back to hammering the crown molding.
For a moment Elizabeth watched him work. The cuffs of his sleeves were open, the fabric rolled up an inch or two, revealing strong, muscular forearms. Suddenly the thought struck her that she had never seen Jeremiah in anything but a federal uniform. How handsome he would have been in a pressed white shirt, silk vest and dark pair of trousers.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She could feel the black fog rolling in. As wonderful as David’s offer to sketch was, she knew she must decline. It was obvious she could not accompany him about the city. She knew she had to leave the room, lest once more she make a fool of herself in front of him.
“I appreciate your kindness, David. Really I do. But...I can’t... Please, excuse me.” She turned for the door.
“You don’t have to hide the tears from me, Elizabeth.”
The understanding in his voice stopped her in her tracks.
“I know what you are feeling. He was my brother, my best friend. I miss him terribly.”
Pain pierced her heart, but his honesty was an invitation. She turned to face him.
“How do you do it?” she asked.
He left the ladder and crossed the floor. “Do what?”
“Get up each morning? Go about your tasks? Your new job? I can barely breathe.”
A look of compassion filled his face. It appeared as though he were about to embrace her, yet just before doing so, he stopped and rubbed his whiskered chin.
“I try to remember where he is,” he said. “I try to remember there is no sickness or war in Heaven. I know he’s happy there, and one day, I will see him again.”
Elizabeth wanted her fiancé to be at rest, to be happy, but she wanted to be happy, as well. She wanted Jeremiah here with her.
“I wish I could take away your pain,” David said.
Upon impulse, she moved into his arms. David held her tightly. Elizabeth knew full well that the strength and security he offered was only that of a would-be brother-in-law’s kindness, yet even so, she soon gave in to temptation.
The same soap...the same shaving balm...
But the added hint of peppermint brought her back to reality. He is not Jeremiah. He never will be. Stiffening, she stepped out of his embrace. “Forgive me,” she said.
He took half a step back, too, and cleared his throat. Embarrassment colored his cheeks. Elizabeth felt it, as well. She wondered if David knew what she had been thinking. If he did, mercifully, he did not say. He hitched his thumb over his shoulder.
“I’m going to take this here laddah and see to those tiles on the roof.”
“Thank you,” she managed, though her face was still afire. She offered to refill his empty glass.
“I’d appreciate that.” Ladder in hand, he moved toward the door. Just before leaving the room, however, he stopped and looked back. “By the way, my brother would be proud of that sketch. I’m certain of it.”
She looked down at the image in her hands. If only he had lived to see it.
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