Read Online Against All Odds (Arabesque) by Gwynne Forster - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gwynne Forster
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been associating the two of you with the end of the year.” Winterflower nodded toward Adam, who frowned. He may not agree, Melissa decided, but he didn’t suggest that the woman’s words were foolish, either.
Winterflower’s soft voice reached Adam as if coming from a long distance, intruding in his thoughts. “How is Bill Henry?”
Adam shifted in his chair, aware that her mind was again on the metaphysical. “He’s well enough, I suppose. I haven’t been home to Beaver Ridge recently, and I haven’t spoken with him by phone since I last saw you.”
“You will learn something from him,” she told Adam. “He has taught himself patience, and he has stopped racing through life. Now he has time to reflect, and soon his heart will be overflowing with joy.” She looked from one to the other, nodded, and relaxed as though affirming the inevitable. “And he is not the only one.” Then she turned to Melissa. “Ask Adam to bring you back to see me.”
Adam stood and hugged his friend. “See you again before too long.” Melissa shook hands with Flower and thanked her.
“You’re very quiet, Melissa,” he said, as they trudged downhill toward the train station. “Was I mistaken in bringing you to visit Flower?”
“No. I’m glad you did.” She appeared to pick her words carefully. “You seemed different with her.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Melissa, I expect everybody’s different around her. She’s so totally noncombative, so peaceful. Life-giving. Sometimes I think of her as being like penicillin for a virus.”
“But she’s also unsettling.”
He slid an arm across her shoulder and drew her closer. “That’s because you were fighting her good vibes.”
“Oh, come on!” she said, and he thwarted her attempt to move away by tugging her closer.
“Now, you’re fighting my vibes.”
“Adam,” she chided, “you could use a little less self-confidence.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Be reasonable. Nothing would lead me to believe that you like wimps.” She wiggled out of his arm. “Go ahead. Move if you want to. You still know I’m here.” She reached up and pulled his ear, delighting him with the knowledge that she needed to touch him.
“Feel better?”
“About what?”
“About giving in to your desire to have your hands on me?” From the corner of his eye, he saw her frown dissolve into a smile, and he stopped, grasped both of her hands in his, and stared down at her.
“You’re delightful, even when you’re trying to be difficult.” Her eyes narrowed in a squint, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue in a move that he now realized as unconscious. His breath quickened. “You make my blood boil.” She parted her lips as though to speak but said nothing, and his passion escalated as she merely looked down the tree-lined street, escaping the honesty of his gaze. He held her hand as they walked to the train.
“Somehow I can’t picture you with a close personal friend like Flower,” she said as they seated themselves on the train. “You belong to the modern era—she doesn’t.”
“She does,” he corrected. “Winterflower is her tribal name. She is Dr. Gale Falcon, a history professor, but she manages to stay close to her origins. My uncle, Bill Henry, introduced me to her. She and I can sit on her deck for hours at night without saying a word, yet we’re together. I value her friendship.”
“She’s clairvoyant.”
“Oh, yes,” he confirmed, “but that stuff works only if you believe in it.”
“And you don’t?”
His cynical laugh challenged her to accept his premise. “It implies that life is guided by fate, that whatever happens to you is preordained. I can’t accept that. Life is what you make it.”
His hand covered hers to assist her as they left the train, and her inquiring look drew a grudging half smile and an unnecessary explanation. “I don’t want you to get lost.”
“If I get lost, it will be
Winterflower’s soft voice reached Adam as if coming from a long distance, intruding in his thoughts. “How is Bill Henry?”
Adam shifted in his chair, aware that her mind was again on the metaphysical. “He’s well enough, I suppose. I haven’t been home to Beaver Ridge recently, and I haven’t spoken with him by phone since I last saw you.”
“You will learn something from him,” she told Adam. “He has taught himself patience, and he has stopped racing through life. Now he has time to reflect, and soon his heart will be overflowing with joy.” She looked from one to the other, nodded, and relaxed as though affirming the inevitable. “And he is not the only one.” Then she turned to Melissa. “Ask Adam to bring you back to see me.”
Adam stood and hugged his friend. “See you again before too long.” Melissa shook hands with Flower and thanked her.
“You’re very quiet, Melissa,” he said, as they trudged downhill toward the train station. “Was I mistaken in bringing you to visit Flower?”
“No. I’m glad you did.” She appeared to pick her words carefully. “You seemed different with her.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Melissa, I expect everybody’s different around her. She’s so totally noncombative, so peaceful. Life-giving. Sometimes I think of her as being like penicillin for a virus.”
“But she’s also unsettling.”
He slid an arm across her shoulder and drew her closer. “That’s because you were fighting her good vibes.”
“Oh, come on!” she said, and he thwarted her attempt to move away by tugging her closer.
“Now, you’re fighting my vibes.”
“Adam,” she chided, “you could use a little less self-confidence.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Be reasonable. Nothing would lead me to believe that you like wimps.” She wiggled out of his arm. “Go ahead. Move if you want to. You still know I’m here.” She reached up and pulled his ear, delighting him with the knowledge that she needed to touch him.
“Feel better?”
“About what?”
“About giving in to your desire to have your hands on me?” From the corner of his eye, he saw her frown dissolve into a smile, and he stopped, grasped both of her hands in his, and stared down at her.
“You’re delightful, even when you’re trying to be difficult.” Her eyes narrowed in a squint, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue in a move that he now realized as unconscious. His breath quickened. “You make my blood boil.” She parted her lips as though to speak but said nothing, and his passion escalated as she merely looked down the tree-lined street, escaping the honesty of his gaze. He held her hand as they walked to the train.
“Somehow I can’t picture you with a close personal friend like Flower,” she said as they seated themselves on the train. “You belong to the modern era—she doesn’t.”
“She does,” he corrected. “Winterflower is her tribal name. She is Dr. Gale Falcon, a history professor, but she manages to stay close to her origins. My uncle, Bill Henry, introduced me to her. She and I can sit on her deck for hours at night without saying a word, yet we’re together. I value her friendship.”
“She’s clairvoyant.”
“Oh, yes,” he confirmed, “but that stuff works only if you believe in it.”
“And you don’t?”
His cynical laugh challenged her to accept his premise. “It implies that life is guided by fate, that whatever happens to you is preordained. I can’t accept that. Life is what you make it.”
His hand covered hers to assist her as they left the train, and her inquiring look drew a grudging half smile and an unnecessary explanation. “I don’t want you to get lost.”
“If I get lost, it will be
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