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With Isa making quick work of the velvet pouches, and Kates eyes dancing between needle and the Creole girl before her, it would be easy to mistake the younger's wonder for something bordering on disbelief.
Her lips hung slack and she could only nod, never having seen anyone so skilled with a needle (nor a needle so bright).
Had she not been so taken aback by the eerie way that Isa seemed to lack the need for focus on such a sharp little task, Kate might have have been cradling her chin in cupped palms as she grinned acros the table to the woman.
As it was, she watched with angled neck, her expression intent as the delicate hands made their work.
Isa's words were taken with slow nods and brief smiles, shortly breathed laughs and a lot of sincerity. She wholly believed that the woman meant every word that fell from those pretty lips, and to find such a genuine soul was rare, to be treasured.
That final, brief ending made Kate smile, and she nodded quietly. "Aye, I ken." She murmured with a gentle smile.
Call it sanctuary, or heaven, or nirvana, bliss. Any number of synonyms to describe the place. It was a warm welcome.
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Help Wanted, Open Tag
