Read Online Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot
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upon his face.
“I must say,” he whispered, as his hands continued to work a particularly tough particle of dirt away from one of the bones, “you don’t look a day older than the last time I saw you. It’s simply remarkable.”
Harper smiled neatly, though there was a certain amount of tension around her jaw. She looked straight at him and indicated with her eyes for him to focus on the bones. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say. You look very well yourself, Robert.”
Dr. Brownson smiled warmly and cast his eyes around the table at the assistants who returned his inexplicable grin politely. He continued to work on the bones, grasping at a nearby brush in order to get a better look at a cavity.
“Canst thou O cruel, say I love thee not, when I against my self with thee partake?” he said.
“Ah… Dr. Brownson.”
“Do I not think on thee when I forgot, am of my self, all-tyrant, for thy sake?”
“Doctor…”
“That was one of your favorite sonnets, do you remember?” Dr. Brownson said, with glee, all attempts at discretion now discarded. “I would read you a different one each time we parted. That particular one was when—”
Dr. Brownson felt firm fingers grip his forearm and pull him toward the morgue entrance. Harper wrenched the door open and yanked the doctor outside with an ease that suggested remarkable strength for such a slight woman.
He looked around him, as if stunned to find himself outside, before settling his eyes once again on Harper and smiling as if he realized her intentions.
“What is the matter with you? This is neither the time nor the place, Robert,” said Harper, her voice firm and resolute.
“You’re right,” replied Dr. Brownson, standing upright. “I’m sorry. I just got carried away.”
“I have a team in there, hadn’t you noticed?” continued Harper. “They expected an experienced forensic anthropologist…not a Shakespeare-quoting, sonnet-serenading poet!”
Dr. Brownson nodded apologetically. “You’re right. I’m being terribly unprofessional. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and it’s stirring so many pleasant memories!”
Harper sighed.
“Let’s get back in there and do our work,” Dr. Brownson said, wearing a pleased smile, “and as soon as we’re done, I would be honored if you would join me for dinner, I mean, breakfast. We’ll catch up – we’ve got decades to get through after all!”
Dr. Brownson chuckled and stepped toward the door, but a strong grip pulled him back once again. When his eyes met Harper’s, his face dropped.
“Robert…”
“Don’t look so shocked! I know it’s been a long time, but just looking at you I can see you’ve not changed very much at all. As for me, well, I’m pretty much the same man you knew at Oxford! I daresay it’ll be just as if you never left!”
“Robert… Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”
Dr. Brownson smiled and nodded happily.
“Yes, Harper. Though it’s been over twenty years, my feelings haven’t changed one bit.”
She looked up at him sorrowfully, her eyes full of pity. She raised her hand for Dr. Brownson to see the large emerald ring on her third finger.
“I’m married, Robert. I have been for many years now. I’m sorry if you thought this was anything more than a professional consultation.”
Dr. Brownson opened his mouth but found himself empty of words. Once again he felt as if the hospital walls were constricting him, causing his brow to sweat and a slight feeling of nausea to well up inside of him. He gulped loudly, his mouth dry, and stammered.
“Ah…Well…”
“I’m sorry, this,” she nodded at the morgue entrance, “was insensitive of me. I should have met with you first. Privately.” Robert looked down at the floor.
If you prefer,” continued Harper, her voice exhibiting a gentleness she was unused to showing, “I can arrange for another forensic anthropologist. Dr. Livingstone lives only a
“I must say,” he whispered, as his hands continued to work a particularly tough particle of dirt away from one of the bones, “you don’t look a day older than the last time I saw you. It’s simply remarkable.”
Harper smiled neatly, though there was a certain amount of tension around her jaw. She looked straight at him and indicated with her eyes for him to focus on the bones. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say. You look very well yourself, Robert.”
Dr. Brownson smiled warmly and cast his eyes around the table at the assistants who returned his inexplicable grin politely. He continued to work on the bones, grasping at a nearby brush in order to get a better look at a cavity.
“Canst thou O cruel, say I love thee not, when I against my self with thee partake?” he said.
“Ah… Dr. Brownson.”
“Do I not think on thee when I forgot, am of my self, all-tyrant, for thy sake?”
“Doctor…”
“That was one of your favorite sonnets, do you remember?” Dr. Brownson said, with glee, all attempts at discretion now discarded. “I would read you a different one each time we parted. That particular one was when—”
Dr. Brownson felt firm fingers grip his forearm and pull him toward the morgue entrance. Harper wrenched the door open and yanked the doctor outside with an ease that suggested remarkable strength for such a slight woman.
He looked around him, as if stunned to find himself outside, before settling his eyes once again on Harper and smiling as if he realized her intentions.
“What is the matter with you? This is neither the time nor the place, Robert,” said Harper, her voice firm and resolute.
“You’re right,” replied Dr. Brownson, standing upright. “I’m sorry. I just got carried away.”
“I have a team in there, hadn’t you noticed?” continued Harper. “They expected an experienced forensic anthropologist…not a Shakespeare-quoting, sonnet-serenading poet!”
Dr. Brownson nodded apologetically. “You’re right. I’m being terribly unprofessional. It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and it’s stirring so many pleasant memories!”
Harper sighed.
“Let’s get back in there and do our work,” Dr. Brownson said, wearing a pleased smile, “and as soon as we’re done, I would be honored if you would join me for dinner, I mean, breakfast. We’ll catch up – we’ve got decades to get through after all!”
Dr. Brownson chuckled and stepped toward the door, but a strong grip pulled him back once again. When his eyes met Harper’s, his face dropped.
“Robert…”
“Don’t look so shocked! I know it’s been a long time, but just looking at you I can see you’ve not changed very much at all. As for me, well, I’m pretty much the same man you knew at Oxford! I daresay it’ll be just as if you never left!”
“Robert… Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”
Dr. Brownson smiled and nodded happily.
“Yes, Harper. Though it’s been over twenty years, my feelings haven’t changed one bit.”
She looked up at him sorrowfully, her eyes full of pity. She raised her hand for Dr. Brownson to see the large emerald ring on her third finger.
“I’m married, Robert. I have been for many years now. I’m sorry if you thought this was anything more than a professional consultation.”
Dr. Brownson opened his mouth but found himself empty of words. Once again he felt as if the hospital walls were constricting him, causing his brow to sweat and a slight feeling of nausea to well up inside of him. He gulped loudly, his mouth dry, and stammered.
“Ah…Well…”
“I’m sorry, this,” she nodded at the morgue entrance, “was insensitive of me. I should have met with you first. Privately.” Robert looked down at the floor.
If you prefer,” continued Harper, her voice exhibiting a gentleness she was unused to showing, “I can arrange for another forensic anthropologist. Dr. Livingstone lives only a
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