Complete Me (Book Three of The Kirkland Family)

Complete Me: Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"Are you sure about this?"

Cole led Rose up the steps to Mr. Shaw's house. She shifted the kittens' new carrier in her hands and looked up at the faded porch posts and the peeling paint on the eaves. The green shingles of the roof lay in crooked lines, and the windows had gathered a layer of dust in the last month. There was the old wooden milk crate Mr. Shaw used to sit on while enjoying his morning coffee, and the rusted coffee can he kept in the corner for his neighbor, Mr. Ward, who visited often so that he could smoke his cigars without his wife nagging.

The grass along the front walk had grown to nearly knee-high. Rose turned to stare out over the yard. How many more opportunities would she get, to just stand here, before the house was destroyed?

"Rose?" Cole asked, eying her with concern. "Are you sure about this?"

She smiled at him. Her head ached less after their nap, and it had been a wonderful feeling to wake up with his arms around her. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she needed this, to find out why she was drawn so much to Cole, yet was unable to classify her emotions.

"Yes, I am sure," she said.

"You promised to tell me if you get too tired," he said, taking her arm gently as they unlocked the front door and entered Mr. Shaw's house. "And you aren't to do any bending or heavy lifting."

"Cole, I am fine," she said.

"You are stubborn," he said. "That is not the same thing as fine."

Rose let the argument go. "I guess we should start in the bedroom..."

Cole studied her for a moment. "That was my suggestion, as well."

They walked through the house toward the back room. Rose paused to look at a few photos on the walls. Most were paintings or prints of scenery. She knew this, but now she focused on what they could have meant to Mr. Shaw. Did someone give them to him? Why were they so important to Mr. Shaw that he would display them? Or were they merely objects to hang?

Cole opened Mr. Shaw's bedroom. He waited for Rose, still watching her carefully, his brown eyes fixated on her face.

"Cole, I'm fine. Really."

"Can I not worry about you?" he asked with a small smile. "This is the first time you've been back since the funeral."

Yes, that was true. The sadness had yet to hit, but as soon as she stepped into the bedroom, saw all of Mr. Shaw's personal belongings, the lump in her throat grew and tears stung the back of her eyes. After the funeral, she barely peeked into the room before she closed the door. And before that, she had only been in the room once. The day Mr. Shaw did not show up for work, and her concern forced her to seek the cause. She learned of his illness that day. And she hadn't been focused on the room.

His narrow bed was made, with his robe still thrown over the foot. There were books and newspapers everywhere. It was just as cluttered as the rest of the house, but there seemed to be more of Mr. Shaw in this small space than any other.

"Come sit down," Cole said. "You look a little pale." He indicated the bed, but Rose was unable to sit on it. It didn't seem right.

"Maybe a chair?" she suggested.

He blinked. And understood. "Yes, of course." He disappeared and came back with a kitchen chair, setting it down just inside the door. "So, where would you like to start? The dresser? The bedside tables? Closet?"

She looked around, setting the new enclosed pet carrier on the floor by the chair. Mr. Shaw's Bible lay on a bedside table, next to the photo of her and Mr. Shaw, taken two years ago. "There," she said, pointing. Cole pulled out the drawer. Together, they looked through the contents — some pens, tweezers, random pieces of paper, more paperback books, and a bunch of odd ends that one might find in the pockets of a five year old.