Free Eternally Yours by Jennifer Malin

Still, she asked, “You say he didn’t seem like a hothead back then?”
    “Not at all. He was a very sweet guy. I guess the pressures of the world have soured him, just like the rest of us.” She grinned.
    Though the comment was made jokingly, Lara thought it could be true. Preoccupied, she chewed on a bite of her sandwich. Certainly she was no longer the carefree girl she’d been ten years ago.
    “I’ll bet you just caught him during a couple of bad days,” Di said. “I think you should make a play for him.”
    Lara barely managed to swallow. “You’re crazy. He’s arrogant and manipulative, and he’s made it clear he thinks I’m irresponsible and apathetic. He obviously can’t stand me, or he would have come back for his manuscript by now.”
    “Maybe he’s afraid you don’t want to see him.”
    “I don’t.”
    Di picked up her mug and swirled her coffee around. “But you said you liked his writing, and I’m telling you he isn’t really a bad guy. I’d think an artist and a writer would go well together--two creative types. Why don’t you take the manuscript over to his place? Seeing him on his own turf may give you a different perspective.”
    Lara felt an unexpected hint of temptation. Mark’s writing had already shown him in a different light. She would have liked to see that pensive, soulful side of him in person--but she wouldn’t admit it to her friend. She shook her head. “No way.”
    They sat and chatted for another half-hour; then Di had to run back to work.
    After seeing her off, Lara returned to the dining room, and the manuscript caught her eye again. Putting off clearing the dishes, she took a seat and picked up where she’d left off that morning. Before long she had finished the second chapter. Mark’s power of description intrigued her.
    She straightened the papers carefully and slid them back into the envelope. She’d been wrong when she’d told him he had no vision. His imagination matched--or even beat--that of his ancestor.
    The book he’d given her still lay where Di had left it. Remembering that she’d never read his inscription, she stretched her arm out across the surface and slid it toward her.
    Opening to the title page, she read what he’d written:
     
    Dear Lara,
    The reason I like writing so much is because it gives me time to think before I make a statement. If I could rewrite the words I spoke to you yesterday, I swear I’d come off sounding helpful instead of pompous.
    Since I can’t, I can only apologize and hope you’ll accept this book--my attempt to prove that I can be circumspect on occasion. If the writing does nothing for you, I hope at least the photos will appeal to your artistic sense.
     
    Sincerely,
    Mark
     
    She put her hand up to her mouth. The words seemed so sincere, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to excuse him, when his second visit to the house had ended as poorly as the first.
    Getting up to clear the dishes, she thought about her own behavior toward him. Hadn’t she been just as stubborn about her views as he’d been about his? He had no way of knowing the studio meant so much to her. And his own feelings about his parents’ house had probably made him react badly to her ideas.
    After loading the dishwasher she went back to the studio, but the room felt cold and lonely. She’d had enough isolation for one day. Maybe her silly fears of being haunted were signals that she’d passed the stage of needing space after her divorce. Having a social life didn’t sound quite so intimidating as it had six months ago. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted, but she knew she had to get out of the house today.
    Deciding to go for a drive, she went to get her purse. On her way to the kitchen stairs she spotted Mark’s manuscript again. He’d made a gesture of apology to her after their first tiff. Maybe this time it was her turn. Though she was tempted to read the whole thing before giving it back, this seemed like the perfect