“This is for you,” she said unceremoniously, holding out the bundle she held.
“For me?” I asked in confusion.
“Yes, take it,” she commanded, looking over her shoulder as if worried someone would overhear her.
I took the cloth from her hand, feeling something hard wrapped inside. I started to open it, but she stopped me.
“Not here. Take it home. Look at it there,” she instructed with a small note of panic in her voice.
“Okay. Uh, thanks.”
She rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a line of black smudge. I wanted to wipe it away.
Mostly I wanted an excuse to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.
Fucking hell.
“I found it. I thought you’d like it.” She seemed agitated. She wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.
“You’re bringing me gifts now. I feel like we’ve entered a new level in our relationship,” I teased, loving how bothered she became when I messed with her.
She flushed. “You should go.”
She was always trying to make me leave. But this time I got the sense it was for other reasons than that she didn’t like me.
“Okay. But seriously, thank you.” I indicated the cloth wrapped mystery present.
“Maybe you could help out with Bible study again,” she said as she turned away.
“I’d like that,” I told her and I meant it.
I liked spending time with Sara Bishop.
She hurried off before either of us could say anything else.
I returned to the place I was staying—I wouldn’t call it home. It didn’t feel much like one. David wasn’t there. I assumed he was praying with Pastor Carter as he always did.
I hated how much time they spent together, but felt powerless to do anything about it.
The longer we stayed with The Gathering of the Sun, the more powerless I felt about everything.
It was easy to lose yourself here.
Forgetting what made youyouhappened too quickly.
I sat down on the bed, Sara’s gift in my lap. Slowly I unwrapped the bleached piece of cotton.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I found once the final roll of material fell away.
In my hands I held a battered sketchbook that had definitely seen better days. I opened it up to find scribbles and random doodles. But towards the back there were blank pages. I picked it up to have a better look when something fell to the floor. I leaned over to retrieve it, finding a bundle of pencils and even an eraser.
Sara had pilfered me art supplies.
My throat felt tight and my eyes grew hot.
Shit. I wouldnotcry over a damn sketchpad.
I rubbed at my nose, blinking rapidly until it felt safe to look at the incredibly thoughtful gift again.
