CAMERON
Emerging from the lake, I approach Harper and her friends sitting on a white cloth on the garden grass.
"What are you pretty ladies talking about?" I ask.
Harper opens her arms upon my arrival, and I lay down with my head on her lap.
"How handsome you happen to be," she giggles, her fingers swirling through my hair. I smile as her palms cover my eyes.
The boys and girls leave in the early evening, leaving Harper and me. She, too, is pressed for time but wants to share a meal made with my hands. I cook something new using recipes from the old journal, while she sets the dishes into the dishwasher.
Though time was limited, we tasted it together when it was done, gently tapping our spoons in a traditional cheering way.
Setting my spoon aside, I lean on the island, propping my
