06-30-2009, 12:04 AM
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There was the barest bit of tension in her fingers as she curled them in slightly as the Patriarch reached to touch her hand. It was strange, and she fought with herself as she tried to decide what to do. Should she pull her hand away, or curl her fingers around his own? Different parts of her wanted different things. The contact was small, almost insignificant, but she felt something inside her swell at the fact that he had reached for her at all. It was a small thing, a small gesture. It was insignificant in the light of the words he had said to her, words she had never thought to hear from him. But there was something about the that small touch she found hard to ignore.
She let her hand drop limply to her side before she crossed her arms over her chest, still listening to Jefferson speak. She was hanging on his every word at this point, her eyes wide and lips half parted as word upon unexpected word poured from his mouth. He connected their eyes, and she blinked once as she tried to comprehend what he was asking. It was strange, and wonderful in a way. It set her ill at ease, and made her feel better at the same time.
"Only if you want to hear," Geneva murmured, somewhat unsure of this situation. Thinking of Jordan still struck a chord within her, inspiring feelings that were eerily similar to those she felt for Jefferson. But at the same time, they were different, deeper, and older. She didn't know where to start, and so she began to speak with whatever entered her mind. "Jordan didn't like to read, and he couldn't. But he liked to listen to me read to him." It seemed a strange place to start, but her mind had wandered back to the rainy spring day she had read to Jefferson in front of the fireplace.
She sighed, shaking her head. "He had a remarkable amount of courage, and very little patience. He was spontaneous, and bright, and dedicated. He loved to laugh and hated to sleep anymore than four hours at a time. He said he would miss out on life if he did. He had so much energy for someone who never rested." Geneva shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "He never tried to make sense of things, said he didn't mind a few mysteries."
She looked away from him briefly and her gaze meandered over the tall stalks of grass as moments replayed in her vision, and she remembered things she hadn't thought on for a while. She blinked as a firefly arced across her vision. She followed it as it flew past Jefferson's shoulder before she looked at him again. "It is beautiful here," she said lamely.
She let her hand drop limply to her side before she crossed her arms over her chest, still listening to Jefferson speak. She was hanging on his every word at this point, her eyes wide and lips half parted as word upon unexpected word poured from his mouth. He connected their eyes, and she blinked once as she tried to comprehend what he was asking. It was strange, and wonderful in a way. It set her ill at ease, and made her feel better at the same time.
"Only if you want to hear," Geneva murmured, somewhat unsure of this situation. Thinking of Jordan still struck a chord within her, inspiring feelings that were eerily similar to those she felt for Jefferson. But at the same time, they were different, deeper, and older. She didn't know where to start, and so she began to speak with whatever entered her mind. "Jordan didn't like to read, and he couldn't. But he liked to listen to me read to him." It seemed a strange place to start, but her mind had wandered back to the rainy spring day she had read to Jefferson in front of the fireplace.
She sighed, shaking her head. "He had a remarkable amount of courage, and very little patience. He was spontaneous, and bright, and dedicated. He loved to laugh and hated to sleep anymore than four hours at a time. He said he would miss out on life if he did. He had so much energy for someone who never rested." Geneva shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "He never tried to make sense of things, said he didn't mind a few mysteries."
She looked away from him briefly and her gaze meandered over the tall stalks of grass as moments replayed in her vision, and she remembered things she hadn't thought on for a while. She blinked as a firefly arced across her vision. She followed it as it flew past Jefferson's shoulder before she looked at him again. "It is beautiful here," she said lamely.