“She was beautiful.”
“Yes, she was.”
Feeling as if he was trespassing on Silas’s grief at seeing the private photographs, he started to step away until a different picture caught his eye. This one was a round black mirror with stars inside.
“That’s unusual.”
“It’s a star map. Our father had them custom-made for each of us. It charts the stars on the night we were born. The one you’re looking at was Pa’s. Mine is over there.” The star chart that he indicted was hanging on the wall over Silas’s bed.
Narrowing his eyes at Silas’s, Reaper went to it. “I don’t know who he paid to do them, but they’re wrong.”
“How?” Silas folded his arms over his chest, leaning against one of the posts of the bed.
“They have two different constellations that have been superimposed together.”
“You’re that familiar with constellations that you can tell just from looking at it?” Silas asked.
“I had to be. When I was in the Navy, more than once my life depended on that ability. These two constellations wouldn’t be in the same part of the sky.” Reaper traced imaginary lines over the mirror to show Silas without touching it. “It’s just not possible. Who did them must have messed up or didn’t know what they were doing. You should ask for a refund or ask them to be done over,” Reaper advised.
“With that kind of mistake, I’m sure they went out of business by now.”
“Could be. I would check and have them done right.”
“I could, but they wouldn’t be the ones our father gave us. They wouldn’t have the sentimental value.”
“I guess.” Reaper didn’t know why it bothered him that the mirrors were fake.
Silas could see he didn’t agree with him. “You think I should replace the mirrors?”
“They aren’t right.”
“Reaper, the stars are never wrong.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“You’re up early,” Reaper called out so he wouldn’t startle Ginny as she loaded a goat into an wooden stand, with his head was hanging out through the slates.
“I went to bed early.” Moving to the side of the milking station, Ginny put a metal bucket under the goat, who’d since hung his head out between the slates. She gave him a brief glance before she started milking the goat.
With short, efficient movements, he heard the sound of the milk hitting the side of the bucket.
“You’re looking all refreshed,” she eventually said.
“I went to bed early.” Repeating the same reason she was up early, he then uncomfortably opened and closed his mouth, trying to put into words what he wanted to say.
“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered, wanting to say much more, but the words wouldn’t come out of his stupid mouth.
“You’re forgiven.” Ginny slid the bucket out from under the goat, placing it on a small table next to her waist, before she started unloading the goat to release it back into the pen attached to the stand.
“That’s it?” Dragging his hand through his hair, he wanted to rip it out in frustration.
“What did you want me to say?”
“I don’t know … I hate your fucking guts would be a good start.”
“But I don’t, so I’m not going to say something I don’t mean.” Giving a low whistle, Ginny slid the gate open to the milking station again. “It’s your turn, Millie. Get her, Jack,” she ordered.
Reaper moved closer to the pen and saw a flash of black and white fur singling out a particular goat from a herd of four. The dog skillfully maneuvered the goat until she had no choice but to go up the ramp.
He gave a low whistle of appreciation. “What kind of dog is he?”
“Australian Shepherd.”
She hadn’t looked at him, except the brief glance she had given him, and continued milking the goat as if he weren’t there.
“You hate me, don’t you?”
“I could never hate you. You said what you were feeling. I can’t begrudge you for that.”
“I didn’t have to be such a jerk.” Using his boot, he nudged a tuft of grass.
“Do you mind if we don’t go over this?” Setting another pail of milk to the side, she told him, “I’m trying to get several chores finished for Silas.” Ginny slid the gate open, releasing the goat. Then, picking up the pails of milk, he realized she was leaving him behind when she started walking away.
“Let me carry them for you,” he offered, reaching out to take one of the pails from her.
Ginny swung the bucket away from him. “I can carry them myself.” Her lashes fluttered as if she was trying to find patience before lifting her eyes to his.
“What do you want, Gavin? I accepted your apology. We’re good. You don’t have to pretend to be nice, so I won’t ask you to leave. Is that what you want to hear?”
Staring down at the spilt milk on the ground, Reaper felt as if he was scrambling in the dark to illuminate the reason he had been so cruel to her yesterday without giving her hope there could be something between them.