Closer Than They Appear Page 4
My throat felt so tight with joy that I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to speak.
After a moment passed, he rasped, “For God’s sake, say something, Hannah.”
I gave him the most brilliant smile I could muster. “Looks like I’ll be ordering a lot of new books for the library’s science fiction collection.”
His face lit up. “Damned right you will.” Then he stared at me. “I almost forgot—wait here.” He turned toward the door, then paused to scowl at me. “And I mean it this time. Don’t you dare go running off.”
“I won’t,” I said, feeling suddenly giddy. Never again.
He was back in a second with a disposable digital camera tied up in a bright red ribbon. He set the camera on the desk in front of me. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I actually blushed. And I hadn’t done that in close to ten years. “What’s this for?”
“Now you can take mortifying pictures of me to even the score.”
“Yes, I noticed that there were few photos of you on the web. Why is that?”
It was his turn to blush. “Well . . . you see . . . I’m afraid I have an embarrassing confession to make.”
“Oh?”
A rueful smile touched his lips. “I’m camera-shy.”
I blinked at him. Then I burst into laughter. And as he laughed, too, I realized that you couldn’t always avoid sharp objects in life—none of us could, not even the famous Dave Brodie. Besides, sometimes it took sharp objects to cut away the old habits, the old comfortable ways of life we fall into because we’re afraid of the next step.
But I was finally ready for any sharp object life threw at me. What the hey, I might even join my daughter in her new hobby and throw a few sharp objects myself. Just for fun. Just to see if I could.
I picked up the digital camera. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dave Brodie,” I said and aimed.
Then I let fly.
The End
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Mossy Creek
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Reunion in Mossy Creek
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Summer in Mossy Creek
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Blessings of Mossy Creek
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A Day in Mossy Creek
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At Home in Mossy Creek
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Critters of Mossy Creek
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Homecoming in Mossy Creek
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About the Author
Sabrina Jeffries is the NYT bestselling author of 36 novels and 9 works of short fiction (some written under the pseudonyms Deborah Martin and Deborah Nicholas). Whatever time not spent writing in a coffee-fueled haze of dreams and madness is spent traveling with her husband and adult autistic son or indulging in one of her passions--jigsaw puzzles, chocolate, and music. With over 7 million books in print in 18 different languages, the North Carolina author never regrets tossing aside a budding career in academics for the sheer joy of writing fun fiction, and hopes that one day a book of hers will end up saving the world. She always dreams big.