Noah thought for a moment when she asked about a harp. He lifted his arm to scoop it around her, to pull her close in against his side. He took another long drink of his tea, rubbing an arm idly up and down her arm. "Hmmmm...I think I do. The Westfalls are good crafters, and Glas mentioned before that he had made a flute. I bet he could figure out how to make a harp." To be honest, Noah couldn't make a picture in his brain of what exactly a harp was. He was not well versed in music, and he only knew that it had strings. He squeezed her closer against him when she promised, and he kissed the top of her head. "How can I help you get to a healthier spot?" He was happy, for her and for himself, that she was clean. He hoped that she would stay that way. His own bout of alcoholism--one, long, drunken night of grief--was enough to keep him away from it for a while.
