Read Online Everything to Gain by Barbara Taylor Bradford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
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Meadows into a true beauty spot, and she was worth every penny we paid her. We gave her the cottage rent-free in return for caretaking chores and for looking after the horses, feeding and grooming them and mucking out the stalls. Her nephew Billy came to help her every day after school, and we paid him for his work in the stables. Although Anna's true vocation was gardening, she was an enthusiastic and expert equestrian and enjoyed exercising our horses as well as her own.
The cottage was misnamed, since in reality it was a barn, one of the smaller ones which we had remodeled last year, turning it into a comfortable studio with a sleeping loft, bathroom, and kitchen.
Anna loved it, and she had been thrilled to move in with Blackie, her Labrador, and her coffee-colored Persian cat, Miss Petigrew. She had come along at exactly the right time for us, and seemingly so, had we for her. She had just separated from her boyfriend, moved out of his house in Sharon, and was staying with friends at their farm near Lake Wononpakook until she found a place of her own. Our remodeled barn and the offer we made had solved her immediate problems as well as ours.
As we drew closer, I saw there were lights on in the cottage, but she did not come out to speak to us, and since we never intruded on her in the evenings unless there was a specific reason to do so, we wandered on in the direction of the biggest of our barns.
Once we were inside, Andrew turned on the powerful overhead lights and walked forward, moving down between the stalls. He petted and nuzzled Blue Boy and Highland Lassie, and spent a few minutes with them, before going to see the ponies, Pippa and Punchinella. But we did not stay with the horses very long and were soon heading back to the house.
Andrew had not said much on the way down, and he was equally as quiet as we went up the hill. He seemed to be lost in thought, preoccupied, and I decided not to pry. If there was something on his mind, something he wanted to tell me, he would do so in his own good time. From the beginning of our marriage he had always shared everything with me, and continued to do so, as had I with him.
Diana once said that we were each other's best friend as well as husband and wife and lovers, and this was true. We loved each other on many different levels, and even though Sarah was my dearest girlfriend and Andrew was close to Jack Underwood, he and I were inseparable and spent almost all of our free time together. He was not the kind of man who went off on his own, drinking and carousing with his male companions or following his own pursuits; in many ways he was something of a homebody, and certainly he was a wonderful father, very close to his children.
At one moment Andrew put his arm around my shoulders and drew me closer. Glancing up at the incredible night sky, he sighed deeply several times. I recognized that these were sighs of contentment, and I was pleased he felt so relaxed and at peace, as I was now that he was back with me and close by my side.
We lay together, my husband and I, on top of our bed. The room was cool from the air conditioning and dimly lit by two small lamps on each of the bedside tables. But because I had left the draperies open to the night sky, moonlight cast a silvery sheen over everything, bathing the room in a soft radiance.
Andrew moved closer to me, pushed himself up on one elbow, and looked down into my face, moving a strand of hair away as he did. "I missed you this week," he murmured.
"I missed you too, and I hate it when we quarrel."
"So do I. But it was merely a small storm in an even smaller teacup. Let's forget it, shall we, and move on. To more important things."
He paused for a moment or two, and as I looked up at him, I saw a reflective expression settle on his face. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Finally, he said, "There's something I want to say… to tell you… how I feel about something."
"What? What is it?" I asked quickly, sensing that
The cottage was misnamed, since in reality it was a barn, one of the smaller ones which we had remodeled last year, turning it into a comfortable studio with a sleeping loft, bathroom, and kitchen.
Anna loved it, and she had been thrilled to move in with Blackie, her Labrador, and her coffee-colored Persian cat, Miss Petigrew. She had come along at exactly the right time for us, and seemingly so, had we for her. She had just separated from her boyfriend, moved out of his house in Sharon, and was staying with friends at their farm near Lake Wononpakook until she found a place of her own. Our remodeled barn and the offer we made had solved her immediate problems as well as ours.
As we drew closer, I saw there were lights on in the cottage, but she did not come out to speak to us, and since we never intruded on her in the evenings unless there was a specific reason to do so, we wandered on in the direction of the biggest of our barns.
Once we were inside, Andrew turned on the powerful overhead lights and walked forward, moving down between the stalls. He petted and nuzzled Blue Boy and Highland Lassie, and spent a few minutes with them, before going to see the ponies, Pippa and Punchinella. But we did not stay with the horses very long and were soon heading back to the house.
Andrew had not said much on the way down, and he was equally as quiet as we went up the hill. He seemed to be lost in thought, preoccupied, and I decided not to pry. If there was something on his mind, something he wanted to tell me, he would do so in his own good time. From the beginning of our marriage he had always shared everything with me, and continued to do so, as had I with him.
Diana once said that we were each other's best friend as well as husband and wife and lovers, and this was true. We loved each other on many different levels, and even though Sarah was my dearest girlfriend and Andrew was close to Jack Underwood, he and I were inseparable and spent almost all of our free time together. He was not the kind of man who went off on his own, drinking and carousing with his male companions or following his own pursuits; in many ways he was something of a homebody, and certainly he was a wonderful father, very close to his children.
At one moment Andrew put his arm around my shoulders and drew me closer. Glancing up at the incredible night sky, he sighed deeply several times. I recognized that these were sighs of contentment, and I was pleased he felt so relaxed and at peace, as I was now that he was back with me and close by my side.
We lay together, my husband and I, on top of our bed. The room was cool from the air conditioning and dimly lit by two small lamps on each of the bedside tables. But because I had left the draperies open to the night sky, moonlight cast a silvery sheen over everything, bathing the room in a soft radiance.
Andrew moved closer to me, pushed himself up on one elbow, and looked down into my face, moving a strand of hair away as he did. "I missed you this week," he murmured.
"I missed you too, and I hate it when we quarrel."
"So do I. But it was merely a small storm in an even smaller teacup. Let's forget it, shall we, and move on. To more important things."
He paused for a moment or two, and as I looked up at him, I saw a reflective expression settle on his face. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Finally, he said, "There's something I want to say… to tell you… how I feel about something."
"What? What is it?" I asked quickly, sensing that
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