Page 78 of Leave a Mark
“You bought it like this?” Wren asked, admiring the fresh look of the space. The remodel couldn’t have been very long ago.
Lee nodded. “I refreshed the paint and replaced the lights, but everything else came with the house.”
Wren looked up at the light fixture, a definite focal point of the room. “Those are really cool lights,” she said.
His eyes followed hers, and when Wren looked back at him, she could see the pride in his smile. “A local guy made it for me. I saw it in a restaurant, and I liked it. My mom used to keep mason jars all over the place. She used them for anything — leftover soup, M&Ms, cotton balls — you name it.”
She liked the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he talked about his mother. He missed her. That was clear. But thinking about her seemed to lift him up instead of pulling him down.
“Are those your mom’s?” she asked, staring up at the jars. There were nine in all, hung at different heights, ranging in size from little jelly jars to ones that looked quart-sized.
Lee glanced back at her, his smile dimming. “Nah. Mason jars were some of the things my dad cleared out when he and Barbara moved into River Ranch.”
Wren saw the loss he tried to hide. “I’m sorry if that’s a sore subject.”
He shrugged. “I inherited my mom’s love of old things. Antiques and heirlooms. Pieces of personal history,” he said, smiling sadly. “My dad’s not that sentimental. There are a lot of my mother’s things I wish I could have kept. Things that she treasured.”
Wren didn’t need to be told. “Like the key?”
He locked eyes with her, his look unguarded. She saw all the way in. Lee was a happy person with a sadness that ran deep. “That key went to my mother’s hope chest,” he said. The reverence in his voice made her step closer. “Chinese rosewood. Silk-lined. Beautiful. She kept it at the foot of her bed, and it was full of every crayon drawing I’d ever done, all of my awards in school, even stupid stuff… like perfect attendance.”
Lee chuckled and shook his head, and Wren smiled with him.
“She saved everything. A lock of hair from my first haircut. My baby blanket. Everything.” He swallowed and cleared his throat.
Wren reached between them and took his hands. They were warm hands, sure and strong.
Lee looked down and smiled, squeezing back before continuing. “When we cleared it out — years after she died — I don’t know… I always knew how much she loved me, but going through that chest was a nice reminder.”
Wren bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t cry.
Lee ran his thumbs over the back of her hands. “When my dad moved out of the old house, I was living in a dorm at LSU. The chest was too big to hang onto, so I kept the key.”
She couldn’t say anything over the lump in her throat, so she squeezed his hands instead.
Lee smiled a different smile, one with a touch of mischief. “And now, even if I lose that key, I still have a reminder.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Thanks to you.”
Wren pulled back. It was easier when the attention wasn’t on her. “Show me the rest.”
“Okay.” Lee stepped back, too, but he kept her hand in his. “I’ll give you the tour."
He pulled her into a narrow hallway. The kitchen had gray ceramic tile floors, but the hall was pine. It looked like the original flooring, just recently refinished and buffed to a shine.
“Here’s the hall bath,” he said, pointing to the open door in front of them. The white, octagonal tiles, pedestal sink, and cast-iron tub were definitely original, older than her old apartment.
“When was your house built?” she asked, admiring.
“1938,” Lee said, pride clear in his voice.
“It’s a great house.”
“There’s more. Master bedroom’s this way—”
Wren stopped in her tracks, making Lee jerk to a halt. He looked back at her with a startled expression until he read the look in her eyes. And then he grew amused.
“C’mon now, I’m just giving you a tour. It’s not my clever ploy to get you into my bed.”
The problem was, Wren didn’t need the ploy. She really didn’t even need the bed. She couldn’t trust herself with him, and that scared her.
