The Construction of Cheer - Liz Isaacson Page 0,39
lake of fresh water. “I think you wanted to know when a sweet, charming, handsome cowboy asked me to dinner.”
Bishop could only search her face, his hope skyrocketing with every moment that passed. He’d used the word flirty to describe himself. Not sweet, or charming, or handsome.
“One did,” she said. “I’m going to say yes.”
“Is that right?” he asked, his voice scratchy and rusted.
She nodded and gently pulled her hands away from his. “Let’s see what my assistant says we should do this weekend.” She took out her phone and tapped on something. She stepped closer to him, bringing the scent of green apples, sweat, and wood with her. He breathed it in, his blood turning to liquid lava in his veins.
She held her phone out so they could both see it. “Have you used this app? Two Cents?” She looked up at him, her face so close now that all Bishop would have to do was dip his four inches and he could kiss her.
Don’t, he thought, and he just looked back at the app.
“I think your cousin owns it,” she said. “He sent a really sweet message to his girlfriend a few months ago.”
“That he did,” Bishop said. “I’ve used it a few times.”
She tapped once and then paused. “Most romantic first date spots.”
“Let’s look at that,” he said, his voice as quiet as hers had been.
She dropped her thumb onto it, and Bishop tensed in the half-second it took to load the list.
“Couples massage,” they read aloud.
Bishop looked at Montana, and she turned her head to look at him too. They burst out laughing together, and she said, “Okay, so maybe number two.”
He kept chuckling as she read, “Hike to Apple Falls and eat dinner as the sun goes down.” She looked up at him again, and he again thought of kissing her. “I’d do that. It sounds fun.”
“Tonight?” he asked, dropping his head six inches instead of four and skating his lips along her jawline.
She drew in a stuttering breath and said, “I need to talk to my aunt first.”
“So you do have an assistant,” he murmured, straightening so he wouldn’t make his heart explode for how fast it was currently beating.
“Give me five minutes.” She stepped away from him. “Look inside that while I’m gone.” With that, she walked away from him. Bishop watched her go, enjoying every moment.
He felt like whooping, like ripping his cowboy hat from his head and tossing it in the air for joy. Instead, he opened the safe, not sure what he’d find.
A wooden box sat on the left side, and it was completely crusted in grime and dust, along with broken cobwebs. Montana must have pulled it out already, because it came easily and left behind a clean portion of the bottom of the safe.
The lid opened fairly easily, with only a slight squeak of protest from one of the hinges. Letters sat inside. Old letters, with curling, strong cursive writing on the envelopes.
He sucked in a breath, his pulse spinning as wildly as his thoughts. He knew what these were, but he still reached delicately inside to take out the top envelope.
The letter was addressed to Lois Mather, and Bishop closed his eyes as he pressed the old paper with his father’s beautiful handwriting on it to his chest.
“Thank you, Lord,” he whispered. Mother had been looking for her love letters from Daddy for years. Over a decade. Since Daddy had died, actually.
He’d taken them from her to be preserved in a book, but he’d passed away before he’d ever presented her with the gift.
She’d cried for days after his death, and most of that was because of these letters that she’d lost.
Bishop opened his eyes, the love between his mother and father a palpable being in the room with him. In fact, Bishop looked up as if Daddy himself would be standing on the other side of the countertop. “I feel you, Daddy,” he whispered. “Mother is going to be so happy.”
Take care of your mother, son.
Bishop nodded now, the same way he had the last time he’d spoken to his father. His dad had taught him to love and respect his mother, claiming that she’d gone to the edge of death to bring him into the world, and she’d done it because she loved him ages before she even knew him.
Daddy had loved her so much too.
He reached into the box and took out all of the letters. There had to be at least fifty, and