"Yes, I did, and I still say it."
"So?"
"That doesn't mean you should tease me like that," I said. "Don't joke about anything when it comes to Kenneth. You of all people know how sensitive I am about it all."
"Okay." He let go of my wrist and raised his hand. "I promise."
I relaxed.
"I better get down to May."
"Okay. But you didn't tell me anything. What happened when he returned?"
"He was all excited," I said. "He had an idea for his block of marble."
"You mean he saw the shape in the stone finally?"
"Yes."
"What's the shape?"
"He calls it Neptune's daughter. I'll know more tomorrow and the day after. He's going to draw it first."
"Artists really are strange," Cary said shaking his head.
"You better stop saying things like that, Cary Logan. You're an artist, too. All this is creative," I said sweeping my hand toward the shelves of models.
"It's just something I do to take up time, but it's really what I'd like to do someday--build ships. I want to build custom sailboats for people. You know I'd rather do that than anything," he admitted.
"Did you do what I said? Did you tell your father?"
"Yeah." He dropped his gaze and turned away.
"He disapproves, of course," I concluded, "but did he see how much you wanted to do it?"
"We've been fishermen forever in this family. He has this religious belief in tradition."
"What you want to do still has to do with the sea, doesn't it?"
"It's not the same thing to him," he said.
"Well, it's not fair. It's not his life, it's yours. You've got to do what you want to do," I asserted.
Cary nodded, but smiled.
"Sure. Only one small thing. It takes money."
"Well, I'm getting a lot of money someday. You remember what Grandma Olivia told me about my inheritance. And when I get it, I'm giving you what you need to start your business."
"You are?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "Uncle Jacob will probably hate me a little more, if that's possible, but I don't care," I said. Cary beamed.
"For someone who has had such a hard time of it, you're the most generous, sweetest person, I know," he said as he stood up from his desk. Because of the size of the room, we were only inches apart. He took my hand in his.
"I'm glad you're not my uncle Chester's daughter, Melody. I'm glad you're only a distant cousin, at most. No one can condemn me for feeling more for you," he confessed. I saw that it took all his courage, but these were words that had been hanging between us for months now. I knew that having feelings for your cousin, even a distant one, was supposed to be wrong, but neither Cary nor I could hold back our hearts.
I didn't speak. Our eyes seemed incapable of moving away from each other's faces. Slowly, almost as slowly as the turning of the earth, our mouths moved toward each other until our lips grazed and then gently pressed together. His left hand moved to my shoulder and his right to my waist. My hands remained at my sides.