Ketch’s big hand turned the carved knob. As he pushed the door open, it creaked, almost as if warning them not to come in.

The room was in twilight and the air so still he felt like he was stepping into a forgotten graveyard. The sketches that lined every wall had a haunting quality. Beautiful. Lonely. Almost as if her garden drawings had died on the paper and only left their shadow in ink.

Tuesday opened the shuttered windows and light seemed to fight its way in through floating dust.

“They are wonderful.” Ketch studied a wall of sketches layered atop one another.

“The files are full of more. They make me want to cry. It’s like looking into Eva’s heart. Her life was so dark.”

“No. Tuesday, I don’t see it that way. She spent her time drawing something so beautiful with only a pen. She didn’t need a hundred colors to create. She saw the beauty of nature in lines.”

Tuesday smiled. “Thanks for that.”

She took his hands and placed them on her waist. “Up,” she whispered.

He raised her to eye level as she circled her arms around his neck and kissed him.

This one gentle kiss, Ketch thought, was worth a week with Crystal.

Chapter 21 - Hank

Chapter 21

Hank

Hank stood in the doorway of Millie’s bedroom and watched her move slowly from the bed to her crutches. Every bone in his body wanted to help her, but she wouldn’t have it. Since Thursday she’d insisted on doing as much as she could by herself. To his surprise, every day she did a bit more.

He’d watched over her for a week. Someone once told him that some women get prettier the longer you know them, and others just uglied up. Hank had to admit that he’d really never stayed around long enough to test the theory until now. The shy librarian was getting more beautiful each day. He loved the graceful way she moved, even while injured, and the slender lines of her body and the way she never complained.

Hank spent his time trying to make everything easier for her. He’d put dead bolts on her doors, built a ramp. Erected a long line of bookshelves on one side of the hallway so most of her books had a place. Hell, he’d even changed the oil in her car and put security lights above her outside doors.

Now he realized she didn’t need him anymore. She could get around the house in the wheelchair and even on her crutches. It killed him to see her in pain, but he knew if he’d been the one hurt, he’d be fighting just as hard to be independent.