by J. L. Berg
It had always been a dream of mine to start our own business. Two brothers creating art together. We’d have moved out to the country and gotten our own studio. We’d have lived off the meager earnings we made off our work. It wouldn’t have been much, but it would have been a good life.
Two brothers.
Two stone doves.
I remembered telling him all of that out there in our backyard as we’d chipped away at the stone, day by day.
I realized now that he’d known all along it would never happen.
He’d just wanted to appear normal to James and me, for as long as he was able.
The thought sobered me.
I guessed I was no different, hiding the truth from Millie. But, unlike Ben, I planned on telling her.
I only needed a little longer.
A little more time like this.
“It still looks like a giant rock.”
I turned to see Millie walking from the house, a big smile on her face. Her blonde hair blew in the breeze, and I noticed she’d changed her clothes since I saw her this morning, opting for a tropical print dress that dipped low in the front and nearly dragged on the ground, her bare feet peeking out with each step she took.
Damn, I was a lucky man.
“That’s because you’re not looking close enough,” I said, pulling her towards me. “You smell good. What is that? Vanilla? Jasmine?” I tucked her into my arms, wrapping them around her as she leaned into me, both of us glancing up at the giant stone pillar.
“Yes,” she simply stated. “I picked it up at a store in town today.”
The way she’d said it told me there was a story behind her words, but instead of sharing it, she stepped forward, her hands caressing the granite as she began checking my progress. I watched in silence, feeling an extreme sense of pride. Seeing her lay her hands on that stone, it did things to me.
“You never told me how you became Aiden Fisher, master stone sculptor.” Her head turned back toward me, a slight smile on her lips.
“It’s not a very good story,” I answered, stepping forward to join her. I pressed my hand on top of hers, spreading our fingers wide over the dusty stone. “I knew what I wanted to do, but I wasn’t exactly equipped with the cash to go to art school. So, I found a sculptor—an old-school type of chap who—”
“I can’t believe you just used the words old-school and chap in the same sentence.”
I grinned. “Do you want to hear this story or not?”
“Go on.”
“Like I was saying, Dalton—that was his name—wasn’t a flashy sculptor. He didn’t use saws or anything modern. He was just a basic chisel-and-hammer type of guy, and he wasn’t interested in taking on an apprentice.”
“Is that why you don’t use saws?”
I gave her a pointed look.
“Right, sorry. Your story. Continue.”
“But I was young and hungry. Quite literally. And I knew, if I didn’t have a job or at least a career path by the time James tracked me down, he’d drag me back to England so fast, my head would spin.”
“Wait, you left without telling your brother?”
I sighed. “Yes, I was angry. It was foolish and selfish, but he forgave me. Besides, he got a good deal out of it.”
“Oh?”
“Well, he stayed, didn’t he?” I said, watching as she guided our hands along the stone, careful to avoid the chalk lines I’d drawn.
“Right. He’s a doctor, isn’t he?”
I had mentioned that as some point or another, I think. Just not a doctor of what.
So many lies, I was losing track.
“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “Anyway, I was very persistent with Dalton, to the point of being annoying. No, annoying isn’t the right word. Desperate might be more accurate. Finally, he caved.”
“He must be very proud of you.”
My hand froze briefly as I remembered the gruff, old man. “I wouldn’t know,” I replied. “He died shortly after I went off on my own.”
“Aiden.” The way she said my name, it held weight and compassion. Turning, she lifted her eyes toward mine. “I’m so sorry.”
“We weren’t that close, to be honest. He made it very clear from the beginning that I was his student and nothing more. I don’t think he was in the business of letting many people in, which was tragic, considering the number of hearts he touched with his artwork. It’s scattered all over the city. I’m sure even you would recognize some of it.”
“Really?”
I nodded.
“What about you? Is there anything in the city of yours that I could see?”
I pinned her between both hands, her back resting against the warm stone. “Not yet, but maybe someday.”
I could see my answer bothered her. The idea of someday.
We hadn’t spoken about it—whether I’d go back when I was done with this job. I wasn’t even certain if she was staying. But one thing that had changed was that we’d stopped talking about leaving, and we’d started just living in the now.
And that was all I wanted right now.
With a very limited time until James came down with whatever cockamamy scheme he’d come up with to help me battle or prolong the war that had begun inside me, thanks to a couple of really crappy inherited genes from my birth parents, I just wanted to freeze time.
To remember how beautiful Millie looked under the setting sun, leaning against the stone, with her golden hair framing her face as she gazed up at me with such love and trust.
“Come on,” I said, taking her hand.
“Where are we going? Are you taking me to the man cave?”
I laughed as we trotted toward the shed. “The man cave? Is that what you call it?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, you and my dad hang out in here. It’s pretty small and not very well lit, so it’s kind of the perfect name.”
I pulled her inside.
“Oh, wow, it’s really bight!”
I took a look around while she did the same. “I made a few modifications.”
Specifically the lighting.
“I guess,” she said. “It’s like being in direct contact with the sun. Why so many lights?”
I cleared my throat. “I just like to be able to see when I work.”
“I thought you worked outside,” she countered, taking a look around. Her hands touched everything. The chisels, every single hammer, even the larger chunks of granite I’d chipped away and stored in a pile.
“Not always,” I said. “Remember how I said I sometimes work with clay?”
“I do.” Her eyes immediate began to scan the shed. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed when she finally found what she was looking for. “It looks just like the original.”
“Well, not exactly like it,” I said, walking to the spot where she was standing. I smiled as she gazed at the small clay replica of the memorial I’d created for the town—the one that had been destroyed. “It’s quite a bit smaller.”
She gave me a sideways look, sticking out her tongue. “Funny.”
I allowed her time to examine it a while longer. She leaned forward, taking in all the details even though there was very little. The beauty of this memorial was its simplicity.
“Will you teach me?” she asked.
“How to work with clay? I’m fairly certain anyone can do that. It’s pretty straightforward.”
“No.” She slapped my shoulder in a playful manner. “And I’m quite sure you just insulted every clay sculptor in the world with that comment.”
I simply shrugged.
“Will you teach me to carve?”
My chest tightened. Just when I thought I couldn’t love this woman more.
“Yes,” I answered, my voice strained with emotion.
It was the reason I’d brought her in here, but I’d thought I’d have to talk her into it.
The fact that she’d beaten me to it…
It made my heart swell.
“It requires
a great deal of patience. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“Well, you had an excellent teacher. I’m sure I do as well,” she said.
My thoughts went to my brother for the briefest moment and our matching stone birds.
“I think, unfortunately for you, mine was better.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Her attention was already shifting to the long wall where I’d laid out my chisels.
“Why don’t you grab a chunk of granite, and I can teach you how to make your very own stone animal?” I suggested.
“Why can’t you teach me on the memorial?” she asked, her gaze drifting to the door.
Mine followed where the sun was already setting behind the house, the sound of crickets filling the air.
“Uh, well…”
“You don’t trust me?” Her face carried a smile, but beyond that, I could see a deep worry setting in.
Shit. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her. I could guide her stroke and make sure every tap of the hammer was accurate.
I’d be there every step of the way.
My eyes shifted to the door once again and then to the small window next to it. It was nearly black outside. Finally, I looked back at Millie, her smile wavering.
“You’re right,” I said. “A stone animal is for amateurs. Let’s go see how you fare with the big granite rock.”
She beamed with happiness. “Now you’re talking!”
“Why don’t you head on out? I’m going to see what I can grab for lighting, and I’ll meet you out there.”
She hopped over to me, placing a kiss on my cheek. “Good idea. We wouldn’t want to be blind out there.”
“No”—I swallowed hard—“definitely not.”
I’d done the best I could with adding extra lighting around the stone pillar, but the majority of the lighting inside the shed required electricity—something that was sorely lacking outside of it.
“Do you maybe want to do this tomorrow?” I asked, walking up toward her after setting up a few strategically placed flashlights. It was woefully unimpressive.
“In the heat?” She adamantly shook her head. “I’ve seen how much you sweat and believe me, I’m already hot enough out here as it is. Besides,” she said, looking around with a certain gleam in her eye, “this is romantic, which is kind of perfect because, after our lesson, I have something pretty exciting to tell you.”
My interest piqued, something she’d obviously counted on. “Then why not just tell me now?”
“Because someone promised me a carving lesson,” she countered.
My hand reached out, pushing back a tendril of light-blonde hair from her face. I would never be able to say no to her.
I’d forever be trying to give her the world for the rest of my life.
“Okay,” I said, making her lip twitch. “I mean, righto, miss.”
She rolled her eyes as I bent down and grabbed a chisel and hammer before handing it to her.
“Is this all we need? Don’t I need that mask thingy you usually wear?” she asked.
“No,” I answered. “That mask thingy is called a respirator and protects my lungs from the dust, but for what little we’re doing, I don’t think it’s necessary.” I paused, remembering her first comment. “And what else do you think we need?” I asked.
Turning toward the granite, her gaze traveling the length of it, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would require more things. Doesn’t look very hard.”
My brow lifted. “You think more tools equates the level of difficulty?”
“I don’t know. It just seems so simplistic.”
A tiny smirk played upon her lips. She was goading me.
Time to give her the first lesson.
“Grab your chisel,” I instructed. “And place it here.” I pointed with my finger to a location I’d been working on earlier in the day.
“Oh, I like it when you’re bossy.” She batted her eyes, the smirk on her face widening.
“I know,” I replied, giving her a wicked grin in return.
She did as I’d told her, placing the chisel against the stone. “Here?” she asked.
I nodded, leaning in real close to double-check one last time. I adjusted it slightly to make sure the angle was correct, so the impact of the hammer would take off just the right amount of granite in the right direction.
“Now, grab your hammer.”
She did, holding it high in the air, like she was ready to ward off an intruder.
“Closer,” I said, my voice deep as I guided her, wrapping my own hand around the tool and closing the gap. “Not too far, but not too close. You need to make sure the impact is with purpose but not out of control. Ready?”
“Oh crap, I’m nervous.”
“I’m going to step back now.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“It’s going to take more than a tap to get through that granite, love.”
“Right. Okay.” She looked terrified.
Honestly, I was a little terrified myself. But I trusted her.
And, even if she messed it up a little, I was early enough into the piece that I could always fix it.
Hopefully.
My heart picked up a bit of speed as her arm pulled back a little, probably more than necessary and—oh God, were her eyes closed?
The familiar sound of metal hitting stone sounded through the air.
“Did I do it?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
I stepped back toward the granite and grinned. “Well, you made a dent.”
“What?” she groaned, her eyes jerking back open to see the tiny mark she’d made. “But I hit it so hard!”
“There’s that crunchy attitude again. You have absolutely no patience. Do you think I learned how to do this in a day?”
“Well, why don’t you show me how it’s done, master sculptor?” Her voice purred.
“Haven’t you seen me hit a hammer dozens of times now from your perch by the window there?”
She gave a coy smile, her fingers running down the length of my shoulder. “Yes, but it’s so much better up close. But lose the shirt first.”
Her words made me feel cocky and delirious. I’d show off for her any day. My mind had already jumped ahead several steps, plotting out how I’d pound out a couple of strokes of the hammer as she watched, and then I’d toss the tools on the grass and throw her over my shoulder, so we could pound it out in a completely diferent way indoors.
Reaching up over my head, I pulled the T-shirt over my head, dirty and stained from my work throughout the day. Knowing she was watching my every move only propelled me forward.
God, this woman made me feel wild.
Desperate.
Complete.
“I will never get sick of looking at all that,” she said, the moment my shirt hit the ground.
“Yeah?”
A satisfied smile spread across her face as she took me in, her gaze traveling along the hard lines of my body, earned from years of hard work. “Yeah,” she agreed.
She handed over my hammer and chisel, looking eager and wicked all at the same time. I willingly took them and stepped up to the same spot in the granite she’d attempted, smiling when I felt the small dent she’d made. It really did take quite a large amount of force to break through granite. I should have started her off with something softer, like soapstone or alabaster.
Lining up my chisel, I held back my hammer and then let it fly. The crack was loud and caused Millie to jump.
“Okay, I didn’t hit it quite that hard.” She laughed. “Wow, you’re strong.”
I gave her a quick grin. “Well, I didn’t get these arms from going to the gym.”
“No, definitely not. Do it again.”
“I feel like I’m your cheap entertainment for the evening. Do you need to go make popcorn? Maybe pour a glass of wine before I begin again?” I asked, leaning against the stone as she took her fill of me.
&
nbsp; “Mmm, just a few more. And then we’ll go in, promise.”
That image of me throwing her over my shoulder came to mind once more. “Deal.”
With sex on the brain, I lined up my chisel once more and pulled back my hammer, making sure to double-check as I went. Another crack.
Millie was just as pleased as the first time.
So, I did another one and another. With every swing of my hammer, my thoughts grew more focused on her and less on what I was doing.
Once again, I lined up my chisel and swung.
But this time, I missed.
“Fuck!”
Searing pain went through my entire hand. I’d missed the chisel entirely, my hand crushed in the process. Dropping both tools to the ground, I tried not to panic.
“Oh my God, Aiden!” Millie rushed to my side as I grunted in pain, pulling my hand to my chest. Her eyes widened as she took in the full extent of my injury.
“I’m calling Jake.” Her gaze tried to avoid my hand, which could only mean one thing.
It was bad.
Really bad.
I’d taken a swing or two at my fingers before but nothing like this.
Nothing with such force. Such power.
I’d been sure of my lines.
A random thought drifted through my brain.
The coffee cup.
The one I’d broken those first couple of days after meeting Millie. I’d been so sure I’d set it on the countertop.
I swallowed hard as I watched Millie run toward the house to retrieve her phone, the silhouette of her body so fuzzy around the edges.
I’d been trying to ignore it over the last few weeks, how much worse it’d become.
But the truth was as plain as the test results on that sheet of paper I still carried around with me. I was so frightened Millie would find it and discover the truth before I was ready to share it.
I was going blind.
Quicker than I’d imagined.
And, soon, the world would be nothing but an empty, black void, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it.
Except for wait as my world came crashing down around me.
“We can take the ferry,” I argued, my head alternating from a very worried Millie to a somewhat equally worried Jake.
“No,” Millie replied, ushering me out toward the car.
