“I like your hair,” he said.
That had come out of nowhere. “Thank you,” I said. “But it’s the same as always.” It was long and straight and dark blonde except for where the sun had bleached it lighter. Today I’d pulled it back with a headband, and flyaway ends kept tickling my cheek. Suddenly self-conscious, I smoothed them back and away from my face.
“Maybe.” He smiled.
“You’re in a strange mood this morning.”
“Am I?”
His tone and expression were unreadable. I was relieved when he turned his attention to the papers on the tabletop. These weren’t the actual blueprints but copies of specific areas. He waited as I gave them a close look.
I touched one of the papers. “The front of the house is one level with the back half being two stories.” After a pause, I added, “It’s so large.”
“Building is expensive. It’s not much more expensive to build larger. Besides, it’s not that large.”
“Tell me the truth. What do you think? Is this a silly expense? Ellen is leaving for college in a few months. It’ll be me. Me alone. Would it make sense to scale the plans back?”
“She’s not leaving forever. Besides, you may marry yet, have other children. There are only three bedrooms and an office area. Rooms fill up before you know it.”
Marry? I wanted to scoff at the idea. Instead I swallowed the quips. Roger’s eyes were too revealing. I knew what he wanted, but I couldn’t offer him my heart. There was too much he didn’t know about me and could never know. The invisible barrier between us wasn’t there by my choice but of necessity.
“Here at the entrance,” Roger continued, “we’re incorporating part of the original foundation. Though, as we discussed, the logs are mostly for show. They’ll come from the springhouse and weigh a lot more than two-by-fours. We’ll run them across this front section with plenty of support below and behind them. The ground is good, but we can’t forget the 2011 earthquake, and small tremors still occur from time to time. What happens once can happen again.”
“True,” I said. “The damage was hit or miss. The high school was wrecked and had to be condemned while houses a few blocks away had no structural damage. Every time I drove past Cuckoo . . .” I shivered remembering the damaged home with its tall, stately chimneys half-crumbled, and the brick walls leaning away precariously from the historical mansion. But the owners had fixed it. It was beautiful again.
Likewise, the new school building had finally been completed. It seemed odd that although my daughter and I would both be graduates of Louisa County High School, we hadn’t attended the same facility. Ellen was about to graduate from a new, very grand building. It reminded me of her fascination with butterflies. She saw mystery in their beauty and in how metamorphosis wrought that change. But she was still young. I knew that sometimes the most significant changes were natural, but often they were painful or forced. There was no irony or mercy in nature but rather unsentimental, practical reality. Nature had destroyed the old building, but out of the destruction of the old, the new had been built, much like what we were planning with my home in the Hollow. It said something about the cycle of nature, the inherent logic of . . .
Roger’s fingers tip-tapped on the tabletop, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked at him and he said, “You were far away.”
“I was thinking about Ellen and her graduation.”
“It’s not an ending. It’s a beginning.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” New beginnings were coming around again for both my daughter and me.
He motioned at the house plans. “About the logs—they’re only for the small front part here at the entry. I wish you’d let us dismantle the old cabin. We could do amazing work with those logs. They’re in great shape.”
I shook my head. “I have plans for that cabin. It stays as is.”
“It’s your decision. No argument.” He motioned across the diagram. “The rest of the house will have the usual framing and structure. Windows will span the back. You’ll have a sweeping view of the hills, the creek, and the forest.”
Anxiety and eagerness fought for prominence within me. I accepted the coffee gratefully from Shelby and wrapped my hands around the steaming cup, enjoying the aroma. “I wish we could just imagine it and make it happen.”
“Wave a wand? I’d be out of business pretty quickly if that were possible.” He laughed.
When Roger laughed, his blue eyes lit up, and the squint lines beside them rearranged themselves into happiness. He had two vertical lines between his eyebrows—Gran had called those worry lines—and when Roger smiled, those smoothed out. I couldn’t help responding, as if I’d been part of the reason for that smile, or maybe it was the sense of a shared moment. I tried hard to mute my reaction, but even his hands, moving over the diagrams and layouts as if he were crafting my house with the motions, spoke to me. I knew the language that hands spoke because it was the same for me when I was shaping clay at the wheel or sculpting using my fingers as tools.
“What?” he asked. “Don’t you like the plans?” He shook his head. “What are you thinking about?”
I smiled. “Nothing too deep. I was remembering when we met. Duncan Browne had sent you to our house on Rose Lane right after Ellen and I moved in, after the fire in Cooper’s Hollow. You and I talked about the changes I wanted at the house. You made me believe we could turn the house on Rose Lane into a home. You communicated what would be done so clearly I felt like I could see it, and that hasn’t changed.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Time flies,” I said. “But you did what you said you’d do, and I have total confidence in you for this project.”
Was he blushing? I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I changed the subject. “What about the well?”
He nodded. “The well is looking good. We’ll have to bleach it and drain it, but the casing looks sound. You’ll need a new pump, of course. We’ll revamp the sewage system, too, and bring it up to code. Permits are almost done.”
“The bank said the construction loan is ready.” I was funding a lot of the project. I was comfortably well-off, but I wasn’t wealthy and didn’t want to drain my accounts. On the other hand, this would be my forever home, the one that took me back to my roots, to my family, and hopefully honored them. It would be the place for Ellen to come home to, even someday bringing a husband and grandchildren with her. If Ellen had her way, I’d bring a husband home myself—a whole different subject altogether.
Roger had a funny look on his face again. I was glad he couldn’t read my mind.
He said, “This means a lot to you. I can see it in your face and in your eyes.”