Broken Strings

Twenty-Two

He was an honourable man but he was still human.

"A few," Ginger answered. "Though I probably took a least a hundred bad ones before getting even a single one that I'll like."

"Will they end up in your portfolio for your art school applications?"

Now Ginger cracked open an eye, humour dancing in the iris. "You mean my non-existent art school applications? Probably not. Might end up on my blog, though."

"You have a blog?"

"Yeah. It's called Wanderlust. I started it after I got my camera and had all these big aspirations to leave Tishomingo and travel the world. I think I'm the only one who actually looks at it but it makes me feel like I'm doing something with my art instead of just hoarding it on my computer."

Jay stared at her a moment, taking in the quiet sadness that danced across the turn of her lips. "Do you mind if I look at it? I'd love to see your photos sometime."

Ginger turned her head. "You really want to see them?"

"I mean...You've been teaching me how to ride a horse and I've yet to get tossed or trampled so I feel like I might owe you something."

She laughed, the sound bright and echoing in the darkness. "Technically, you are paying me for my services."

He rolled his eyes. "With a ticket to a movie premier which is basically nothing. If you won't let me pay you in actual money, then at least let me fanboy over your photographs."

Ginger snorted, her nose wrinkling in a manner that made Jay smile and something stirred low in his gut as he took her in laughter and carefree expression. "You don't seem like the fanboy type."

"That's because you haven't seen me watch the Yankees."

"You're a baseball fan?"

"It's the great American pastime. Plus I grew up playing little league and it's the only sport that ever really stuck with me. I wasn't much into football or hockey like my brother. What about you? Any sports aside from riding horses?"

Ginger shrugged. "Not really. I played a little soccer for a while and then decided that I hate running. I think my mom was happy about it. She hated sitting through my practices and games. Once she told me that she actually preferred the act of painting and watching it dry to watching me play." She smiled at the memory and he wanted to know more. Wanted to hear every single second she was willing to share of her normal, mundane, everyday life.

"What are your parents like?" he asked.

"Well, my mom is a dental hygienist and my dad is a carpenter. They're the hardest working people that I know and they've always been...practical, you know? My dad used to be the artsy one, though. When I was a kid, he used to be the one to sit at the kitchen table and draw with him. He was really good at it, too. I think it's why he went into carpentry. It's like art made real and functional." She sighed a little wistfully. "He mostly frames houses now though. Once, he wanted to open up his own custom furniture place but it was too much of a financial risk so he's never done it."

Jay thought he could see some of her father in Ginger, though he'd never met the man. Still, hoping he was wrong, he looked upon her face and murmured, "But that won't be you, right? You'll take the risk one day with your photography." He said the words as a statement, not a question.

Ginger turned her head, staring back. "What makes you so sure?"

Her eyes were wide and brown and beautiful and Jay couldn't look away. There was an intensity to her gaze that lit a fire in his gut. She always had something serious about her face but this was different. It was...hopeful, too. As if she was hoping that he had some magic answer for her, some way out of this small town.