Shooting the Moon. Brenda NovakЧитать онлайн книгу.
and imagining what it might be like living in an attic room with dormer windows. While these were not dormers, they would do.
“Like it?” Logan asked, a pleased expression on his face.
“I love it,” she said. “You were right about knocking down these walls.”
“I hope you’ll think that about what I brought you here to see.” He nodded toward a door at the opposite end of the hall. “Come with me.”
“To the attic? What’s up there?” she asked, though she trailed behind him.
Logan paused halfway up the stairs to glance over his shoulder. “Just wait and see.”
At the top of the stairs, he reached for a flashlight left hanging on the rafter. “Stay close behind me,” he warned, “and don’t walk anywhere but on these beams.” He gestured to the large expanses of lumber that crisscrossed the open flooring. “Ready?”
At her nod, Logan set off. She followed a step behind. Up here the air was thick with the scent of neglect, punctuated with a musty smell that made Pippa sneeze.
He reached back to steady her. “Can’t have you falling through the ceiling and landing on a perfectly good floor. Might crack the boards.”
His brow rose as he waited for her giggle. Instead she sneezed again, then offered a smile. “I’m fine. Keep going,” she said as she fell back into step behind him.
Logan led her to the window on the easternmost side of the attic. “This is the part that’s going to take some imagination.” He lifted the window sash and instantly fresh salty sea air replaced the century-old smells. “I should have asked before I brought you up here.” He met her gaze. “Are you afraid of heights?”
“You’ve never seen me on the half-pipe,” she said as she thought of the last time she’d skateboarded on the giant structure in the back of the warehouse.
Apparently Logan hadn’t heard of a half-pipe. Or maybe he just couldn’t imagine her on one. Either way, his expression remained blank.
“The answer would be no, I’m not,” she added.
A nod, and Logan reached outside the window to lean to the right. “This is the fire escape. The ladder’s completely safe. Even the fire marshal agrees.”
Logan’s mention of Ryan Owen, Vine Beach’s fire marshal, reminded Pippa that she needed to stop by and pick up the check for the specially designed Bibles he and Leah were donating to next Saturday’s skating event at R10:14.
“Pippa?” He looked down at her feet. “You’re probably going to need to kick off those sandals for this. Construction debris won’t be a problem where we’re going.”
Putting aside thoughts of tomorrow, she shrugged. “And where is that, dare I ask?”
His grin was immediate. “The roof.”
Pippa did as he asked, then watched as he slipped out the window and onto the fire escape. The breeze that she’d smelled inside now whipped against her as she gripped the warm metal handles of the ladder.
At the top of the stairs, Logan offered her his hand and she took it. “Turn around.”
She did and then gasped. From where she stood, she could see all of Vine Beach. From the lighthouse and marina to the high school and the farmland beyond, the expansive vista was astonishing.
“Oh, Logan. It’s beautiful.” Her eyes caught the sharp drop-off at the edge of the building and her stomach did a flip-flop. “Kind of dangerous, though, don’t you think?”
“As it is now, I wouldn’t recommend spending time up here,” he said. “If I were to put up a rail over there and bring up a staircase through an entrance in the roof over there with planters circling the perimeter, I could make this a nice rooftop deck. Minus the satellite dish, which really ought to be taken down.” He paused and seemed to be waiting for her opinion.
Pippa took it all in, the ideas, the view and the enthusiasm of the man beside her. “Yes,” she agreed as her gaze fixed on a familiar sight—the roof of the warehouse that housed R10:14. “I like it, but I wonder if just a deck is enough.” She tore her attention away from the warehouse and fixed it on Logan. “What about some sort of arbor? Or trellis? Something to shade part of the roof from the sun. If we’re going to do this I’d really like it to look more like an oasis than just a plain deck.”
Logan’s grin was slow but worth the wait. “Definitely,” he said. “I can draw something up, but every project you add will take extra time.”
She gave the area another sweeping glance. “Take all the time you need, Logan,” she said. “I’m in no hurry at all.”
“Are you sure your grandmother will go for this extra expense? Not only are we talking about more time and materials, but there are also the costs for getting the blueprints altered. Then there will be another trip before the city council to get everything approved.” He shrugged. “The only good part is that so far the building has not been claimed by the historical commission. If that were to happen before we turned in the plans, everything would take much longer.”
Pippa contemplated asking how to get the building put under consideration by the commission and then decided it might be too obvious. “Leave Granny to me,” she said instead. “Just get busy planning something amazing.”
“Amazing,” Logan echoed. “Got it. And you’re sure you don’t mind the extra time this thing will take?”
“Absolutely certain.” Pippa grinned and then realized Logan was watching. “You’re wondering why I’m happy about a delay?”
A lift of his shoulder and he met her gaze. “I never ask a woman what she’s thinking.”
Chapter Three
Logan waited for her smile and was rewarded by laughter instead. “So,” Pippa said as she swept an errant strand of hair back over her ear, “how exactly does a guy make the career change from missionary to carpenter?”
“Involuntarily” slipped out of his mouth before he realized what he said.
That got her attention. Logan stifled a groan as he waited for the barrage of questions that usually came along with any admission of what he had once done and what now occupied his days.
“Yes, I suppose that happens, doesn’t it? But then the Lord tells us our plans won’t always be His,” she said instead.
How many times had he heard that one? Or the statement about how everything happened for a reason? That one usually had him wanting to demand just what reason a loving God might have for taking the life of a woman whose only crime had been to listen to him when he insisted that she be on the flight that day.
Of course, he’d never actually said those things or responded to any of the other comments of those who were so sure of God’s good plans. Nor would he say them now. Only a few of his closest friends, fellow widowers at the church’s Starting Over group, had heard any of them.
“Granny says your missions work has to do with kids.”
Logan thought of the orphanage, of the little ones and teenagers he hadn’t seen in more than three years. Some would be grown by now, others likely unrecognizable from the babies and toddlers they once were. “Yes, it did.”
“Did? As in the past, then?”
Logan recalled the planes he and his wife had ridden, skimming the treetops before dropping down for a landing that almost instantly had them surrounded by happy and eager young faces. Resolutely he pushed away the image. “Yes.”
Pippa turned to face the beach and then lifted her hand to shade her eyes. “Oh?” she said almost as an afterthought. “Would it be prying to ask why you’re not involved in anything like that now?”
It