Read Online Among the Tulips by Cheryl Wolverton - Free Book Online Page B

table regarding Victor’s efforts.
    He’d had such a wonderful time today with Annie. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that much fun. She was wonderful and different from other women he’d met. He couldn’t explain it. She had an inward glow about her constantly and her gentle words were so lighthearted and innocent compared to how jaded he’d become.
    So he’d planned a special dinner with her. The table was set formally with two places. Candles were lit, and hanging on the wall was the painting the two of them had created earlier today.
    â€œOur picture!” she squealed in delight.
    He grinned. “I just had to hang it. I had it framed today while you were resting.” It was really a mess with no true patterns, but it represented something special to him, with bright bold colors in vivid strokes next to smaller, tentative strokes.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have!” she exclaimed, but her happiness was obvious in her eyes.
    He slipped his arm around her and lifted her own arm to his shoulders. Guiding her to the chair next to his, he seated her. “I did because I want always to be reminded of the good time we had today. At least, I had a good time.”
    â€œOh, so did I. Who would have believed coming to Holland would fulfill one of my lifelong dreams—to learn about painting?”
    He couldn’t explain how her enthusiasm affected him. Releasing her, he allowed his hand to travel down her arm and catch her hand; he squeezed gently. “I’m very honored that you enjoyed it.”
    â€œAnd thank you for this wonderful dinner. Do you always eat so formally?”
    He grinned. “We won’t tomorrow or Sunday. I always give my employees the weekend off—at least my house employees,” he amended, thinking that security was never off. “So then it’s usually sandwiches.” He returned to his own seat.
    â€œWell this is nice, and I am perfectly fine with fixing a sandwich to eat.”
    Just then Helga brought in the first course of the meal—a lightly flavored cheese soup. She set the dishes down and left.
    Annie bowed her head and silently prayed before tasting the soup. He waited uncomfortably until she was done and then lifted his spoon. “So, what do you think?” he asked when she tasted it, wondering how, as a Christian, she could be so different from what his experience of Christians had previously been. She showed love, not judgment. Gentleness without compromise, yet without condemnation.
    Her eyes were closed and a smile spread across her face. She looked as if she were in rapture. “This is absolutely wonderful,” she said in utter delight. “You have the best cook in the world.”
    â€œI’m sure she’ll enjoy hearing that,” he said dryly. “And I’m sure she’ll be asking for a raise right after I tell her what you said.”
    Annie laughed. It was an unencumbered laugh, full of joy and life. “You’re too funny,” she said lightly and took another taste.
    Victor began his own soup, thinking that though it was good, it did not compare to watching Annie when she was happy. Her smile was nourishment to his dry and empty soul. What was it he’d heard once? A person doesn’t know their soul is dry and empty until someone comes along who can expose it.
    Annie was the key to his emptiness. Her laughter and joy put a hunger in him for that experience.
    Until not too long ago he would have said life was fine. Sure he had gotten burned out more often lately, and he was spending more time at his house here in Holland, which was his escape-from-life house, but that was because of his job—or so he’d thought.
    Annie.
    She took another spoonful of soup, and he watched as her eyes sparkled. “I think I’ve got that big fuzzy brush down,” she said, describing, badly, one of the painting brushes, “but that tiny one is