Finally he said, “Promise me you will lock the doors.”
“I will. Danke again for everything you’ve done.”
“It was no trouble. I’ll be back tomorrow to take a shift with the chores.”
“Good night, Paul.”
“Good night, Lizzie.”
He turned and walked back down the pathway. She watched him until he was nothing more than a shadow in the fading moonlight. Long after Paul had gone, she stared at the barn doors. So many terrible memories of this day lingered inside that building.
She stepped back inside the house and shut the front door, locking it behind her. Turning around she spotted the bag Paul had given her lying on the side table, where she’d left it this morning. She nibbled on her lower lip, contemplating what was inside. Colors. He’d told her she should add colors to her drawings. It was easy to imagine tufts of green grass and swaths of blue sky coming to life on the paper.
After going into her bedroom and opening the bottom drawer in the dresser, she took out her sketch pad and pencils. Then she came back into the living room, sat down, turned up the lamp and then flipped the pad open to the last drawing she’d been working on. The bare-bones image of the barn glared up at her. Her heart felt as if it were squeezing inside her chest as she looked at the plain lines she’d drawn a few weeks ago. Lizzie picked up the pencil and held it poised over the page. Maybe Paul was right. She needed to bring color to her work, and to her life, she thought. Perhaps only then could she erase the starkness of the memories that haunted her.
Sighing, she set the pencil down and closed her sketchbook. It had been a long, long day. Shaking her head, Lizzie mused. Nothing about the past could be changed. Nothing. She needed to stop dwelling on what might have been. Being here with her parents, staying within the close comfort of the farm, this was her life. There was nothing for her beyond the fences.
It was time she accepted that and put thoughts of love and family out of her mind. For good.
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