Spring turned to summer, and the garden burst into bloom with only a little help from Kit's absentminded hands. She was not the best gardener, not wanting to kill anything by accident, and besides, now the weather had improved, she was busy working on the present she had promised Randal at Christmas. He had been banned from watching her when she was in that particular part of the garden for several weeks, and finally, she was ready for him to see what she had been doing.
Standing in the hallway, she bit her lip, a little nervous. "Randal" Any chance you're, you know, waiting for the right moment to be visible today?"
No answer came from anywhere within the house, which might lead her to believe either he was having one of those days where he was not so much in control of his comings and goings, appearances and disappearances, or he simply had not heard her calling him.
She sighed softly, leaning against the wall, her nervous smile fading into a quiet pout of disappointment. After working hard for weeks, she had been hoping that Randal might be able to come when she called, but it seemed not. With a quiet sigh, she shook her head. "All right, love," she said to the apparently empty house. "Another time." Running her fingers through her hair, she turned back to the screen door, pushing it open to step out into the cooler evening air.
And there he was, waiting for her on the grass, a soft smile on his face. Apparently, he had heard and answered her summons, after all. "Did you call me, love?" he asked with that smile on his face, teasing her a little as if he wasn't sure whether she'd called him or not.
The disappointment on her face morphed into the brightest smile he had seen in a long time when she found him there on the lawn, her sandals flapping as she ran over the porch and onto the grass to meet him, only just stopping herself before she ran straight through him. "I thought you couldn't come!" she protested laughingly.
"Well, here I am!" he declared with a smile as bright as all outdoors, despite the fact that he was still a ghost. Thankfully, there was no one else around to see him but her, or they might wonder what she was doing talking to a man who seemed more like the projection of a man than a living person. "What did you want' It isn't often I'm able to project myself outside the house."
She beamed, her nervousness showing itself once again as she bit her lip, her hands twisting together in front of her stomach. "I finished your present," she told him, subdued excitement leaking from every pore as she bounced on her toes. "And I remembered to cover it up, because I can't cover your eyes."
He longed to offer her his arm so they could stroll through the garden together, but that day was coming. According to the calendar, it was only a few months away. "You could just ask me to close my eyes," he pointed out logically, but still with that amused half-smile on his face.
"Well, yes, but if I do that, then you won't know where I'm going, and I won't be able to lead you," she pointed out. "See, I thought everything through. I may be a complete ditz at times, but I do think sometimes." She grinned cheerfully, crooking a finger for him to follow her. "Come on, this present is long overdue."
"Ditz?" he echoed with an arched brow. She was using one of her modern words that he didn't quite understand. He could grasp the meaning of it from the context in which it was used, but it was still unfamiliar to him. "Where are we going?" he asked, stepping after her, wondering what kind of present could possibly be waiting for him out here.
She walked backwards, smiling innocently at him as she led the way toward the apple trees that had been in the garden for as long as she could remember. Three trees that had been set in a triangle, and grown together in a complex twist of limbs to make a completely natural gazebo. Beneath those twisted boughs, Kit had set a curved bench, but that wasn't the surprise. The widest of the trunks was covered with a loose dust sheet, and it was there she stopped, biting her lip nervously. "Are you ready?"
He had not ventured into the garden in a very long time, and it was with wonder that he looked on the trees and the bench she had set beneath them, as well as the mystery she had hidden behind a cloth of some kind. He could not imagine what it was she had hidden there or what it might have to do with him. "Please tell me you didn't carve a silly statue of me for the garden," he complained.
She raised a brow challengingly. "Is any of my work silly?" she asked him in a pointed tone, daring him to say it was. She'd spent all winter designing, and almost the entirety of July and August carving, hopeful he would at least not mind what she had done.
"No, I suppose it isn't," he replied, realizing his faux pas, though he was still secretly hoping she hadn't carved a statue of his likeness. He couldn't imagine what it was she had carved, but it seemed he was about to find out. "I'm sorry. I meant no offense. It just seems a little....egotistical to commission a statue of one's self for one's own garden." His thoughts touched on that blasted portrait of Isabelle in the dining room. One way or another, that thing had to go.
"Well, it isn't you, so relax," she told him, her voice warm as she turned to give the sheet a tug.
Carved into the living wood of the tree with loving precision was a cameo of two faces in profile, one within the other. The first was male, the inner face female, and set very carefully into the base of that carving was the original ivory cameo itself, protected from the weather with all kinds of little tricks. With any luck, Randal would recognise the original, if not the larger carving, for Kit had found it while rummaging in the attic. It was of his own parents, commissioned the year before he was born, and she thought that perhaps he would like to have them watching over him still.
"Is it you, then?" he teased with a small chuckle, but before she was able to set him straight, she had pulled off the covering and he turned to look at the creation with a small gasp of surprise. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of that particular cameo in years, but recognized it nevertheless as having once belonged to his mother. "Good God!" he exclaimed at the sight of it, a little shocked for a moment before moving in for a closer look. "Wherever did you find that cameo?"
Biting her lip, she held the dust sheet between her hands, twisting it nervously as he inspected her work. "I, um, I found it in the attic," she confessed quietly. "And, well, I took it to the local library, and the curator identified who it was for me. I thought you might like it to see the light of day again."
He made no comment whether he liked the carving or not, only stepping forward a moment and forgetting himself. "May I touch it?" he asked, though there was hardly any chance of that.
Still nervous of knowing what he thought, Kit nodded, gesturing toward the carving. "Of course," she assured him. There was no chance of any splinters from this work. She had sealed it with sap from the tree itself, the carven cameo perfectly smooth and polished.
Standing in the hallway, she bit her lip, a little nervous. "Randal" Any chance you're, you know, waiting for the right moment to be visible today?"
No answer came from anywhere within the house, which might lead her to believe either he was having one of those days where he was not so much in control of his comings and goings, appearances and disappearances, or he simply had not heard her calling him.
She sighed softly, leaning against the wall, her nervous smile fading into a quiet pout of disappointment. After working hard for weeks, she had been hoping that Randal might be able to come when she called, but it seemed not. With a quiet sigh, she shook her head. "All right, love," she said to the apparently empty house. "Another time." Running her fingers through her hair, she turned back to the screen door, pushing it open to step out into the cooler evening air.
And there he was, waiting for her on the grass, a soft smile on his face. Apparently, he had heard and answered her summons, after all. "Did you call me, love?" he asked with that smile on his face, teasing her a little as if he wasn't sure whether she'd called him or not.
The disappointment on her face morphed into the brightest smile he had seen in a long time when she found him there on the lawn, her sandals flapping as she ran over the porch and onto the grass to meet him, only just stopping herself before she ran straight through him. "I thought you couldn't come!" she protested laughingly.
"Well, here I am!" he declared with a smile as bright as all outdoors, despite the fact that he was still a ghost. Thankfully, there was no one else around to see him but her, or they might wonder what she was doing talking to a man who seemed more like the projection of a man than a living person. "What did you want' It isn't often I'm able to project myself outside the house."
She beamed, her nervousness showing itself once again as she bit her lip, her hands twisting together in front of her stomach. "I finished your present," she told him, subdued excitement leaking from every pore as she bounced on her toes. "And I remembered to cover it up, because I can't cover your eyes."
He longed to offer her his arm so they could stroll through the garden together, but that day was coming. According to the calendar, it was only a few months away. "You could just ask me to close my eyes," he pointed out logically, but still with that amused half-smile on his face.
"Well, yes, but if I do that, then you won't know where I'm going, and I won't be able to lead you," she pointed out. "See, I thought everything through. I may be a complete ditz at times, but I do think sometimes." She grinned cheerfully, crooking a finger for him to follow her. "Come on, this present is long overdue."
"Ditz?" he echoed with an arched brow. She was using one of her modern words that he didn't quite understand. He could grasp the meaning of it from the context in which it was used, but it was still unfamiliar to him. "Where are we going?" he asked, stepping after her, wondering what kind of present could possibly be waiting for him out here.
She walked backwards, smiling innocently at him as she led the way toward the apple trees that had been in the garden for as long as she could remember. Three trees that had been set in a triangle, and grown together in a complex twist of limbs to make a completely natural gazebo. Beneath those twisted boughs, Kit had set a curved bench, but that wasn't the surprise. The widest of the trunks was covered with a loose dust sheet, and it was there she stopped, biting her lip nervously. "Are you ready?"
He had not ventured into the garden in a very long time, and it was with wonder that he looked on the trees and the bench she had set beneath them, as well as the mystery she had hidden behind a cloth of some kind. He could not imagine what it was she had hidden there or what it might have to do with him. "Please tell me you didn't carve a silly statue of me for the garden," he complained.
She raised a brow challengingly. "Is any of my work silly?" she asked him in a pointed tone, daring him to say it was. She'd spent all winter designing, and almost the entirety of July and August carving, hopeful he would at least not mind what she had done.
"No, I suppose it isn't," he replied, realizing his faux pas, though he was still secretly hoping she hadn't carved a statue of his likeness. He couldn't imagine what it was she had carved, but it seemed he was about to find out. "I'm sorry. I meant no offense. It just seems a little....egotistical to commission a statue of one's self for one's own garden." His thoughts touched on that blasted portrait of Isabelle in the dining room. One way or another, that thing had to go.
"Well, it isn't you, so relax," she told him, her voice warm as she turned to give the sheet a tug.
Carved into the living wood of the tree with loving precision was a cameo of two faces in profile, one within the other. The first was male, the inner face female, and set very carefully into the base of that carving was the original ivory cameo itself, protected from the weather with all kinds of little tricks. With any luck, Randal would recognise the original, if not the larger carving, for Kit had found it while rummaging in the attic. It was of his own parents, commissioned the year before he was born, and she thought that perhaps he would like to have them watching over him still.
"Is it you, then?" he teased with a small chuckle, but before she was able to set him straight, she had pulled off the covering and he turned to look at the creation with a small gasp of surprise. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of that particular cameo in years, but recognized it nevertheless as having once belonged to his mother. "Good God!" he exclaimed at the sight of it, a little shocked for a moment before moving in for a closer look. "Wherever did you find that cameo?"
Biting her lip, she held the dust sheet between her hands, twisting it nervously as he inspected her work. "I, um, I found it in the attic," she confessed quietly. "And, well, I took it to the local library, and the curator identified who it was for me. I thought you might like it to see the light of day again."
He made no comment whether he liked the carving or not, only stepping forward a moment and forgetting himself. "May I touch it?" he asked, though there was hardly any chance of that.
Still nervous of knowing what he thought, Kit nodded, gesturing toward the carving. "Of course," she assured him. There was no chance of any splinters from this work. She had sealed it with sap from the tree itself, the carven cameo perfectly smooth and polished.