my fingers through the hair on the back of his head. “Do you?” Our lips
were almost touching, and I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he
said, “I do now. I’ll pick you up in the morning around ten,” and then he
leaned in, gently rubbing his lips on mine. He reached up and stroked the side
of my face with his warm hand. His body inched closer and closer until I could
feel his broad chest on mine.
“Oh, Ava,” he breathed. Then he wrapped his
lips tightly around mine, knowing how to make me fall undone.
It was a good thing I was already sitting, or
my legs may have given out on me. I let the kiss continue, but too soon my head
fought with my heart. “I have to get back,” I murmured through the kiss, not
wanting to stop.
“One more minute,” he whispered back, still
kissing me sweetly.
I wanted to never stop. I wanted to stay right
there in the parking lot under an umbrella of summer stars forever.
Oh, what this man does to me.
Chapter
Eleven
The next morning I woke up early, the kiss
replaying over and over in my head. I was anxious for the day’s activities,
although Nolan wouldn’t tell me what we were doing, only to be ready by ten. I
took a shower, cleaned up my bedroom, and then headed downstairs to see what my
parents were up to.
My father had taken a day off from work and was
reading what looked like a very old scrapbook. My mother was at the stove
frying eggs. I sat down on the couch next to my dad.
“What are you reading?” I looked over at the
book.
“Haven’t I ever shown you this before? It’s
been on our shelf in the living room for ages, and now I’m just getting around
to looking closely at it. It’s a family document scrapbook. I’m interested in
researching our family’s history. Your grandfather spent much of his short life
interviewing family members, reading family documents, and visiting graveyards
to try to trace our roots back as far as he could. He collected the items in
this book before he died. I’m trying to honor his memory and continue on his
quest.”
“That’s really cool, Dad,” I told him as he
turned the pages.
“Your grandfather was able to go back one
hundred years to your great-great grandfather Arthur Gardner. I figure with
today’s technology, I could go back another hundred!”
I watched as Dad turned the pages in the old
book. I spotted a picture of a man and a woman holding a tiny baby in front of
an old farmhouse.
“Who is that?”
“That’d be Edna and Arthur Gardner. Edna is
holding your great-grandfather, Robert. They lived on the outskirts of the
Dells in the early 1900s. I think Robert was born in the latter part of 1913.”
I looked closer at the old black and white
photo and noticed something in the window of the house. It looked like the blue
rock I found a few years ago in the basement and is now sitting on the
bookshelf in my bedroom. I always thought that rock was something my parents
found on one of their vacations abroad, but now that I thought about it, both
rocks looked an awfully lot like the strange blue rock I almost tumbled down
the hill to gather.
My father noticed me studying the picture and
interrupted my train of thought. “It was unusual for families to get their
photo taken in front of their own homes. Most people had to go to the
photographer’s studio. In this case, H.H. Bennett was probably one of the only
photographers in the Dells at the time, and his studio was downtown.” He
flipped the photo over to look for markings on the back but didn’t find
anything. Then he went back to studying the front of the picture, presumably
looking for hints. “What’s this in the window?”
“Oh, I think that’s that blue rock. I’ve been
wondering , Dad, what is the story on that?”
“Well, you know, I’m not exactly sure myself.
Your mother and I found it in a box of junk at your Grandma’s house several
winters ago. She must have packed it up when we moved her into the nursing home
and the
were almost touching, and I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he
said, “I do now. I’ll pick you up in the morning around ten,” and then he
leaned in, gently rubbing his lips on mine. He reached up and stroked the side
of my face with his warm hand. His body inched closer and closer until I could
feel his broad chest on mine.
“Oh, Ava,” he breathed. Then he wrapped his
lips tightly around mine, knowing how to make me fall undone.
It was a good thing I was already sitting, or
my legs may have given out on me. I let the kiss continue, but too soon my head
fought with my heart. “I have to get back,” I murmured through the kiss, not
wanting to stop.
“One more minute,” he whispered back, still
kissing me sweetly.
I wanted to never stop. I wanted to stay right
there in the parking lot under an umbrella of summer stars forever.
Oh, what this man does to me.
Chapter
Eleven
The next morning I woke up early, the kiss
replaying over and over in my head. I was anxious for the day’s activities,
although Nolan wouldn’t tell me what we were doing, only to be ready by ten. I
took a shower, cleaned up my bedroom, and then headed downstairs to see what my
parents were up to.
My father had taken a day off from work and was
reading what looked like a very old scrapbook. My mother was at the stove
frying eggs. I sat down on the couch next to my dad.
“What are you reading?” I looked over at the
book.
“Haven’t I ever shown you this before? It’s
been on our shelf in the living room for ages, and now I’m just getting around
to looking closely at it. It’s a family document scrapbook. I’m interested in
researching our family’s history. Your grandfather spent much of his short life
interviewing family members, reading family documents, and visiting graveyards
to try to trace our roots back as far as he could. He collected the items in
this book before he died. I’m trying to honor his memory and continue on his
quest.”
“That’s really cool, Dad,” I told him as he
turned the pages.
“Your grandfather was able to go back one
hundred years to your great-great grandfather Arthur Gardner. I figure with
today’s technology, I could go back another hundred!”
I watched as Dad turned the pages in the old
book. I spotted a picture of a man and a woman holding a tiny baby in front of
an old farmhouse.
“Who is that?”
“That’d be Edna and Arthur Gardner. Edna is
holding your great-grandfather, Robert. They lived on the outskirts of the
Dells in the early 1900s. I think Robert was born in the latter part of 1913.”
I looked closer at the old black and white
photo and noticed something in the window of the house. It looked like the blue
rock I found a few years ago in the basement and is now sitting on the
bookshelf in my bedroom. I always thought that rock was something my parents
found on one of their vacations abroad, but now that I thought about it, both
rocks looked an awfully lot like the strange blue rock I almost tumbled down
the hill to gather.
My father noticed me studying the picture and
interrupted my train of thought. “It was unusual for families to get their
photo taken in front of their own homes. Most people had to go to the
photographer’s studio. In this case, H.H. Bennett was probably one of the only
photographers in the Dells at the time, and his studio was downtown.” He
flipped the photo over to look for markings on the back but didn’t find
anything. Then he went back to studying the front of the picture, presumably
looking for hints. “What’s this in the window?”
“Oh, I think that’s that blue rock. I’ve been
wondering , Dad, what is the story on that?”
“Well, you know, I’m not exactly sure myself.
Your mother and I found it in a box of junk at your Grandma’s house several
winters ago. She must have packed it up when we moved her into the nursing home
and the
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