Hummingbird Lane Brown, Carolyn (libby ebook reader TXT) 📖

Emma said. “Rebel hid them for us, and then we hunted them even though it was the Friday before Easter. Wouldn’t it be great if sometime she were here to help us dye them and maybe even enjoy hunting them with us?”

“She would love that.” Sophie smiled. “Good Lord, girl, how tight are you braiding my hair?”

“The strands will loosen up in a little while.” Emma chuckled. “If I do it right, the braid will last a couple of days.”

“Not washing your hair for that long?” Sophie giggled. “You’ve turned into someone else entirely!”

“Yep, I have,” Emma said. “And I love it. Maybe letting my inner soul come out and play will heal me.”

“Does the inner you worry about what Victoria thinks?” Sophie asked.

“More than I like to admit, but then I can’t expect to get over more than thirty years of Victoria conditioning in a few days or even weeks,” she answered.

Friendship was a powerful thing, and the bond that she and Emma had shared when they were kids had just been lying dormant, like the trees in winter, waiting for them to get together again to bloom.

Josh was glad that not one single wispy cloud floated in the blue skies so he could draw that morning. His eagle was far enough along that he could finish it inside if it rained, but he felt like he did his best work outside. Butterflies flitted about the cactus blooms, and he had caught sight of an eagle floating through the air when he took his morning coffee out on the porch at daybreak. If things went right, he might be able to finish the project he had been working on all week. Leo would be coming by in a few days, and Josh would love to have the eagle done when he arrived.

He slipped his canvas into a waterproof sleeve and made sure he had enough ink and pens in his backpack for the morning. He added four bottles of water, a couple of protein bars, and another couple of candy bars and slipped his arms in the straps. His equipment was ready, but Josh was nervous about spending several hours with Emma. What if she got bored, or worse yet, what if she hated being with him? He did not carry on conversations well—not with anyone other than his trailer park people. Besides all that, he’d never spent that long with a woman—especially a beautiful one like Emma.

A memory of his grandfather flashed in his mind. They were sitting at the edge of the pond on the estate where Josh’s folks lived, and Harry was on the other side of him. The wind was blowing, and Harry had been holding his old floppy hat down with one hand.

“Grandpa, why am I like this?” he had asked.

“If God made everyone just alike, the world would be a boring place, now wouldn’t it?” Grandpa had answered.

“Accept who you are and be good at what you do. Now, if you’re going to finish the drawing of that duck, you’d better get busy,” Harry had said with a chuckle.

When he came around the bend, he could see Sophie painting and Emma sitting on the porch steps with a backpack beside her. When he was only a few feet away, Sophie waved with a paintbrush in her hands. Emma looked up and nodded.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said.

“Mornin’,” Emma and Sophie both said at the same time.

“Want a cup of coffee?” Sophie asked.

“No, I already had too much caffeine this morning, but thank you,” he said and then glanced over at Emma. “Are you ready?”

“I hope so,” Emma said with a shy smile. “Sophie expects me to be productive today, but I haven’t painted anything in years.” Emma stood up and slipped her arms through the straps of her backpack, fastened the hook in the front, and gave him a brief nod. “I’m ready,” she said.

“Not quite,” Josh said. “You need a hat.”

“He’s right. Take this one. It’s got a good wide brim.” Sophie jerked her straw hat off her head and handed it to Emma. “I’ve got another one in the house.”

“Thank you,” Emma said.

“Y’all have a good morning,” Sophie called out as they walked away.

Josh waved over his shoulder.

With her dark hair all done up in braids, Emma was a pretty woman, and when she smiled, her brown eyes sparkled. Josh had the urge to draw her in pen and ink with that twinkle in her eyes. If he could capture the sadness that surrounded her but still get the eyes just right, he would have a masterpiece for sure—one that he probably would never want to sell.

Neither of them said a word until they reached a copse of mesquite, where he removed his backpack. “I thought we’d set up right here. I’m almost finished with my project, but if I can see the eagles, it inspires me.”

Emma unfastened her backpack and laid it on the ground. “This is a great place.”

They brought out their folding stools with canvas seats and popped them open. Emma sat down, and her eyes darted from one flower to another as if she was trying to decide whether to really work that morning or just study the landscape.

Josh assembled a portable easel and got out bottles of ink and several pens. “Need help with anything?” he asked.

“No, I’m good. It’s just been years since I’ve had brushes in my hands. I don’t know whether to sketch first or just start painting on a canvas.” Her tone sounded downright bewildered.

“There’s no wrong way to start. You are the artist. It’s your work, and you can even toss it when you’re done if you don’t like it.” Josh dipped his pen in the ink and made a few strokes on the eagle’s wings.

Emma got a small stretched canvas from her backpack and then brought out a palette and several brushes. Her chest tightened up so badly that it ached. Visions of