by Mary Manners
“Oh, she couldn’t possibly be scouting for someone like me.” Yet Korrie’s heart soared at the thought of painting watercolors for a living. She could share her techniques with others, like her father had done. Then reality swept in, and she realized how foolish that sounded. Employing brushstrokes and canvas to pay the bills? The idea proved as intangible as a pipe dream. She’d given it a whirl once, long ago, and the failed results indicated that to revisit that path merely resigned her to a future spent living off Julie and Michael’s charity. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” Brayden lifted a finger to stroke a stray hair from her cheek. “I haven’t seen much of your work, but the little I have seen speaks volumes to your talent.”
His slight touch shot fissions of warmth down Korrie’s spine.
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t process the question. His tender gaze had her thoughts racing off on a tangent. “I’d need a place to spread out and create, and the cottage is way too small. You saw how cluttered it looks when I have all my supplies laid out.”
“It just needs a little organization, that’s all.”
“It’s more than that. I don’t think it would work out.”
“Thinking too much can get you into trouble, Korrie.”
“And not thinking enough can do the same.” She had the past to prove it.
“True.” His finger stroked her cheek and followed the curve of her jawline before he broke contact. “Just consider it, won’t you?”
“I’ll…maybe.” She shivered at the loss of his touch. Her gaze drifted to his and she noted his sincerity. Perhaps she should consider his suggestion. What could it hurt?
“Here’s Carol’s card, just in case.”
“Thanks.” Korrie took the slip of paper and without so much as a glance at it, tucked it into her pocket. She fidgeted, anxious to change the subject.
“How did you get into the cottage?” she asked, recalling the close call with emergency services. “When you saw smoke billowing from the oven through the kitchen window?”
“Hiding your spare key beneath the flower pot is barely a step up from covering it with the door mat.”
“Oh.” Korrie grinned ruefully. “I guess I’ll have to find a better place. But if I get too creative with the game of hide and seek I’m sure I’ll forget where I put it.”
“You could let me in on your secret and then if you forget, I’ll remind you.”
“I guess that would work, seeing as you’ve already found your way in twice now.” She nodded, completely at ease with his suggestion. “I know I can trust you.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s quite a breakthrough.” He sipped his coffee, eying her over the rim of the mug. “Since we have established this newfound trust, do you think it might carry over to taking a chance on spending the day with me tomorrow?”
“And Scottie?” With Scottie in tow it wouldn’t be considered a date. Korrie didn’t know if she was ready for that.
“Nope. Just me. Scottie’s been invited to a birthday party. He’s going to the Smokies baseball game with a couple of kids from his class and the birthday boy’s parents, bless their hearts.”
“Not a fan of multi-kid outings?”
“I’m more of a fan of his and her outings.” He winked. “Meaning you, me, and a meal neither one of us has to cook. Making it through without spilled milk—or veggies surreptitiously tossed to a dog who’s unabashedly begging beneath the table—would prove a bonus.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Korrie laughed, completely powerless to resist his charm. “Count me in.”
“It’s a date then.” Brayden’s gaze settled over her and his smile widened. “Our first official date.”
“You mean my cooking didn’t scare you away?”
“It’s not your cooking I’m attracted to, Korrie.”
“What, then…my housekeeping skills? My huge bank account? My cottage—well, it’s not really mine.”
Brayden rolled his eyes at her, and she belly laughed.
“There it is.” He leaned in and brushed his lips along her cheek. “That laugh. It gets me every time.”
6
Korrie wandered toward the back of the cottage to the room she’d considered un-cluttering and organizing into a studio. The area proved small, but natural light spilled from a pair of oversized windows, providing a nice, warm glow from the early-morning sun. She felt most creative in the morning, before the day’s many responsibilities crept in, so her plan seemed perfect. And even if it proved less-than-perfect, she needed something to distract her from thoughts of the time she’d spent with Brayden yesterday.
Their first date. And most likely their last.
He’d taken her into town for a lovely lunch at a bistro café along the river. They’d heard music playing on the square along the Riverwalk and had found the most wonderful swing band. Brayden had taken her hand and drawn her to him, and they’d danced beneath a wash of spring sunshine.
From dancing they’d gone to the ice cream shop where they’d shared a banana split and talked for hours. He’d related anecdotes of hilarious—and sometimes touching—growing pains he’d experienced during his first year raising Scottie. Korrie imagined the enormity of the life change for him, as well as Scottie, and her heart wept.
In turn, she’d discussed hopes and fears that she hadn’t shared with anyone. Not Julie.
Not even Joe, and they’d dated for two years. Two.
They’d ended the day by swinging by to pick up Scottie from the birthday party. Scottie had scrambled into the car, his face smudged with dirt and a ring of chocolate ice cream around his mouth. He’d chirped and chattered on about his day until they’d hit the driveway, when his head slumped to the side and he was out like a light.
Brayden had carried him from the car and into the house with Korrie following. In that moment, she felt as if she belonged to this little family.
It had been wonderful. Perfect. Too good to be true.
The very thought frightened Korrie out of her ever-loving mind.
With nearly a week of knowing him under her belt, Brayden seemed just too good to be true.
So had Joe. At least at first. Then things had slowly begun to change. He was like a snake shedding its skin. Only the colors revealed weren’t bright and vibrant, but dark…almost sinister. Yes, Joe was too good to be true. He’d proven that by taking the real estate deal she’d worked so hard to acquire, as well as her trust and her dignity.
Trusting her heart to Joe had proved a hard lesson that still continued to sting. She refused to fall again.
So she’d focus on reinventing the small, tired spare bedroom into a studio for her artwork. She might not have skills in the kitchen, but her creative eye told her that, with a little elbow grease and some patience, this space could be redeemed.
~*~
Brayden stepped onto the landing at the rear of Korrie’s cottage and rapped on the door. Footsteps padded his way, and the door opened.
“Good morning.” He leaned against the doorway. “You look lovely.”
Her hair was a mass of tousled waves that framed sapphire eyes while a smudge of paint highlighted one cheek. Even in the faded denim capris and baggy T-shirt, her figure shone through.
“You’re all spruced up,” she said, but though the words were kind, her tone was all business, clearly devoid of the laughter she shared with him yesterday.
“Scottie and I are headed to church. We thought you might like to join us.”
“I can’t.” The answer rang short and clipped. “I have…stuff to do.”
Warning bells sounded through Brayden’s head. Tread lightly, they cautioned.
“Oh. Well, maybe dinner later?”
“Not today.” Her tone said not tomorrow, either. Maybe not ever again. She eyed the go-cup in his hand. “You don’t need to keep bringing me coffee. I’d say after yesterday, we’re even.”
Yes, something was definitely off-kilter, ca
using the light in her eyes to dim and her mouth to dip to a frown. He racked his brain, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Was it something he’d done? Something he’d said?
He raked a hand through his hair as if the action might jog his memory. “I promised you a month’s worth of coffee, and I keep my promises.”
She took the cup, although hesitantly. “Brayden, I had a good time yesterday…a really good time. But I don’t think we should see each other again.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No. It’s not you. It’s…me. I have things to figure out, job hunting to do. I can’t be distracted.”
“So that’s what I am, a distraction?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“No, it’s OK. I get it.” He leaned in to brush his lips along her jaw. Her slight intake of air told him her words didn’t mirror her heart. But he wouldn’t push. She had to figure things out on her own. “I’ll go now. No distractions.”
She hesitated, seeming almost apologetic. But she didn’t back down. “Say hi to Scottie for me?”
“You can say hello to him yourself later. I’m sure he’ll play in the yard with Thor after church.”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“No problem. Have a good day, Korrie. I hope you get all your stuff done.”
7
“May I help you?”
Korrie turned from the shopfront window glass to find a woman staring at her.
“Oh, thank you but I’m just looking.” The window display held both framed and unframed artwork of various mediums—oils, pastels, charcoals and a few watercolors. Some were displayed on easels, others positioned just so along a drape of crisp, white fabric. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“You have an eye for art.” The woman lifted her sunglasses and propped them atop her head. Her raven-black hair fell straight as an arrow down the length of her back. “I’m Carol Taylor.”
“Oh, the owner.” Korrie felt her cheeks flame. She’d waffled on whether or not to come, and had chosen this time on a Sunday, when she knew the shop was closed, to take a peek without being noticed. So much for that plan. “I’m Korrie Karssen. I’m just admiring your shop. I’ve heard so much about it.”
“And I’ve heard so much about you.” She flashed a smile. “Brayden Cambridge works with my husband at Hawkins Ridge PD. He mentioned that you dabble in watercolors.”
“Yes, right. I do.” So Brayden had spoken to Carol about her. How much had he shared? At the thought of Brayden her heart tugged. She didn’t want to, but she missed him. “Or, I used to. It’s a long story.”
“Aren’t they all?” Carol chuckled. “The shop’s closed today, but I hoped to catch up on some paperwork. Come on, let’s head inside together, and I’ll give you the grand tour before I get started.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll brew us a cup of tea, and we’ll talk. Who knows, maybe you’ll agree to share some of your watercolor collection with me.”
“But I don’t have a collection…not yet, at least.”
“I guess you’d better get to it then, right?”
Much later, dusk settled in as Korrie made her way from the shop back to her car. She’d spent the entire afternoon sharing her ideas through rough sketches and colorful descriptions. Carol was interested, and had already commissioned half-a-dozen paintings for the shop.
Now Korrie had to finish those paintings. But there’d be no finishing until she started.
Which brought her circling back to the room she planned to convert to a studio at the cottage. So much work ahead of her, but good work…satisfying work.
For the first time in years, she felt a sort of renewal that had her spirit singing.
She should share the good news with Brayden. After all, this adventure was set into motion by his kindness.
But Korrie nixed that idea. She’d promised herself she’d stay clear of him in efforts to avoid becoming entangled in another heart-wrenching disaster. Hard as that was, she aimed to stay true to the course.
A course that carried her as far away from Brayden as possible.
~*~
“Uncle Brayden, I need help with this one.”
Brayden turned from the window to find Scottie fidgeting in a chair at the kitchen table. A worksheet, slightly crumpled from several erasures, was fisted in his hand.
“Let me see.” Brayden went to him and bent to scan the directions. “Tell me what you don’t understand.”
“I don’t know this word.”
“Let’s sound it out together.”
They did just that. The pair had found a comfortable rhythm in the regular after-school routine. Upon arriving home from school each day, Scottie tossed his backpack on the floor, raced Thor to the yard for half-an-hour romp to unleash some pent-up energy, and then settled into homework at the dinner table while Brayden rustled up something for dinner. That left a little time in the evening for stories, an impromptu game of T-ball, and the occasional TV show.
“Good job.” Brayden patted Scottie’s shoulder. “Now you’re getting it.”
Scottie finished the sheet and shoved it into the homework folder that he’d return to his teacher the next morning.
“I wish I could go see Korrie. Maybe she’s baking cookies.”
Thor, curled up on the floor near the counter where Brayden had been putting together grilled cheese sandwiches, perked up his ears and whined in agreement.
“Not tonight, champ.”
“You’ve said that every night this week.” Scottie’s face folded into a pout. “Why?”
“Korrie’s busy. I’m not sure, but I think she’s working on some watercolors for the art studio downtown.” He glanced through the window and over the hedgerow, his gaze arrowing toward the back of the cottage where a light shone from one of the rooms. “It takes a lot of time to paint watercolors.”
“Maybe I could help her. Mrs. Londiver says I’m a good drawer. I even got one of my pictures in the art show.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. I forgot to give you the note.” He rustled through his backpack and produced a canary yellow flyer. He handed the paper to Brayden. “It’s gonna be next week. Can you come see it, Uncle Brayden?”
“Of course I will.” Brayden scanned the paper, committing the day and time to memory. “Count me in.”
“Maybe I can count Korrie in, too.” Scottie ran to the window and stared longingly at the light shining from her cottage. “I miss her.”
“Me, too.”
How could that be? It had only been three days since he’d last seen her, yet Korrie’s absence tugged at his heart. He’d knocked at her door each morning and when she failed to answer, he left the go-cup of coffee on the doorstep anyway.
“I know. I’ll draw her a picture with a note for the show—an invitation like Spencer gave me for his birthday party. Can you help me, Uncle Bray?”
“I told you Korrie’s busy, champ. I don’t know if she’ll be able to make it.”
“Please, please please!” Scottie tugged on Brayden’s shirt. “I hafta try.”
How could he say no to that?
“OK, let’s get to it.”
8
Brayden brought coffee every day that week. Like clockwork, he’d rap on the back door of the cottage and wait. And, like clockwork, Korrie paused in her work in the studio long enough to peek through the window curtains, torn between welcoming him and keeping her silence, until he finally turned and left. She watched him cross back over to his side of the hedgerow, dressed in his police uniform or, this morning, faded blue jeans and a navy T-shirt that showcased his military-trained physique.
When he disappeared back into the house, Korrie wove her way through the hall toward the kitchen. She yanked open the door to find the silver go-cup along with a bouquet of wildflowers and a pair of notes.
She opened the one that Brayden had clearly written.
&n
bsp; These flowers reminded me of you. Hope the watercolors are coming along nicely. B
Korrie picked up the bouquet and pressed the petals to her nose. The scent radiated sunshine. Pure, warm sunshine. The vibrant splash of color cheered her.
She reached for the second note—obviously the work of Scottie—and the go-cup.
“He brought you coffee again, and flowers?” Julie rounded the corner, her cotton maternity sundress flapping in the warm, gentle breeze. “Wow, this is serious.”
“It’s not serious, Jules.” Korrie couldn’t help herself. She lifted the go-cup to her lips and drew a sip. It tasted like liquid heaven. Ugh, why did Brayden have to be so thoughtful? “It’s not…anything.”
“Except maybe a little off-kilter.” Julie pursed her lips. “The whole situation’s got an off-balance vibe to it. Why didn’t you open the door for him when he brought you that stuff? I saw him waiting on the landing.”
Of course she did.
“I refused to open the door because I’m staying clear of mistakes, distractions, and emotional landmines.”
“So you think Brayden’s a mistake. An emotional landmine?”
“No, I am.” Korrie would have jabbed a finger at her chest but both hands were full. “At least when I’m around him. It’s…frightening.”
“Because you care for him?” Julie walked right past Korrie and into the kitchen. “Wow that happened fast.”
“Exactly. Too fast. I have to be careful.”
“You’re the queen of careful, Korrie. You mustn’t live your life afraid of the bad that might happen. You should consider instead the good that can.”
She’d never thought of it that way. Korrie sliced a look toward the rancher, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brayden. But the house was quiet.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve made a few changes around the cottage. I have a studio—sort of—now. I’ve been working.”
“So I’ve heard.” Julie hunted through the cabinets for a vase. She filled it with water and set it on the counter. “This place is yours now, sis, for however long you want it. You can redesign it, switch things up. Do what it takes to suit you. Whatever you want.”