Read Online Larkspur Dreams by Anita Higman, Janice Hanna - Free Book Online
Authors: Anita Higman, Janice Hanna
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next two words on her list, roman and ami , which meant romance and friend. Lark hurled an acorn at the CD player. Those two words were beginning to gnaw at her spirit whether in French or in English. They unfortunately represented the difference between Jeremy and Everett. And it broke her heart. After meeting Everett, she knew Jeremy would be just a good friend now. And no more.
Lark would always think of Jeremy as a great guy. They’d prayed together. Laughed a lot. And there’d even been a spark or two. But now she’d experienced the difference between intense fondness and what? Better not go there quite yet. Lark covered the pot with her mother’s old, knitted cozy to keep in the heat. While the tea steeped, she started her sketch of the acorns.
But with Everett, the attraction and the interest were growing by the hour, and she couldn’t even transpose all her feelings into plain words. If all those mysteries could be examined, would one even want to know? Would people truly desire to dissect such a splendid gift from God? It would be like explaining the dynamics of a rainbow. Understanding every detail of its prismatic effects would not make a rainbow any more beautiful.
Lark poured her tea as she looked at her sketch. Not bad so far. Perhaps better than the last one. Maybe she could do a series of nature greeting cards using charcoal. Interesting thought. She did have a publisher some months ago who’d asked her to send some samples, but she’d never had the time.
She fiddled with the shading, smudging it, to give the picture more dimension. The steam curled up from her teacup. Black currant. Fragrant and fruity. She took a slow sip.
One renegade acorn suddenly fell away from the rest, so she placed it back with the cluster and then reflected on the day Everett had come to live on her street. She’d wondered how God would allow Everett Holden to change her life or how she would change his. It was happening, but not quite how she’d expected. She had a feeling now they’d be a bit more than friends.
Oh, phooey on the sketch. Her mind had gone to mush. She might as well shower and get ready for the evening. If she dressed early it would be as if she could make the evening come sooner. She chuckled at the silly thought.
Lark stood in her bedroom and studied her gown hanging by the closet. The breathtaking dress had a dark green, velvet bodice. Sheer silk of a paler hue flowed from the waist like a stream. She’d found the little gem on a clearance rack in Springdale, but it fit her figure as if it had been made for her. How do you say dreamy in French?
After Lark showered, she lifted and pinned her dark locks up in an elegant swirl. When she was in high school, her mother had taught her how to fix her hair for special dates. On those evenings, her mother brushed her long hair and hummed softly. It had felt so good and so comforting. What she wouldn’t give for one of those moments to come again. No, Lark, you’re not going to let yourself cry. She sniffled a bit. In the next breath, she hummed one of the songs her mother loved: “Go Tell It on the Mountain.”
After a few more rounds of singing and lotions and primping and jewelry, she gazed into her full-length mirror at all her efforts. Okay, not bad. “Well, what do you think, Igor? Do I look pretty?”
“Pretty,” Igor’s one word was just enough.
“Thank you, Igor.”
“Thank you, Igor.”
Lark laughed and glanced at herself in the mirror again. Like Cinderella stepping into her coach, all was in readiness. She just hoped the evening would go better for her than it had for the fairytale heroine.
Well, now she could just sit down, twiddle her thumbs, and look over a coffee table book until Everett arrived. She eased down on the couch so as not to pull too hard on the bodice or crumple the silk. She flipped nonchalantly through a book on European castles. Yes. Spectacular. It even comes with a moat. Calli would certainly enjoy selling
Lark would always think of Jeremy as a great guy. They’d prayed together. Laughed a lot. And there’d even been a spark or two. But now she’d experienced the difference between intense fondness and what? Better not go there quite yet. Lark covered the pot with her mother’s old, knitted cozy to keep in the heat. While the tea steeped, she started her sketch of the acorns.
But with Everett, the attraction and the interest were growing by the hour, and she couldn’t even transpose all her feelings into plain words. If all those mysteries could be examined, would one even want to know? Would people truly desire to dissect such a splendid gift from God? It would be like explaining the dynamics of a rainbow. Understanding every detail of its prismatic effects would not make a rainbow any more beautiful.
Lark poured her tea as she looked at her sketch. Not bad so far. Perhaps better than the last one. Maybe she could do a series of nature greeting cards using charcoal. Interesting thought. She did have a publisher some months ago who’d asked her to send some samples, but she’d never had the time.
She fiddled with the shading, smudging it, to give the picture more dimension. The steam curled up from her teacup. Black currant. Fragrant and fruity. She took a slow sip.
One renegade acorn suddenly fell away from the rest, so she placed it back with the cluster and then reflected on the day Everett had come to live on her street. She’d wondered how God would allow Everett Holden to change her life or how she would change his. It was happening, but not quite how she’d expected. She had a feeling now they’d be a bit more than friends.
Oh, phooey on the sketch. Her mind had gone to mush. She might as well shower and get ready for the evening. If she dressed early it would be as if she could make the evening come sooner. She chuckled at the silly thought.
Lark stood in her bedroom and studied her gown hanging by the closet. The breathtaking dress had a dark green, velvet bodice. Sheer silk of a paler hue flowed from the waist like a stream. She’d found the little gem on a clearance rack in Springdale, but it fit her figure as if it had been made for her. How do you say dreamy in French?
After Lark showered, she lifted and pinned her dark locks up in an elegant swirl. When she was in high school, her mother had taught her how to fix her hair for special dates. On those evenings, her mother brushed her long hair and hummed softly. It had felt so good and so comforting. What she wouldn’t give for one of those moments to come again. No, Lark, you’re not going to let yourself cry. She sniffled a bit. In the next breath, she hummed one of the songs her mother loved: “Go Tell It on the Mountain.”
After a few more rounds of singing and lotions and primping and jewelry, she gazed into her full-length mirror at all her efforts. Okay, not bad. “Well, what do you think, Igor? Do I look pretty?”
“Pretty,” Igor’s one word was just enough.
“Thank you, Igor.”
“Thank you, Igor.”
Lark laughed and glanced at herself in the mirror again. Like Cinderella stepping into her coach, all was in readiness. She just hoped the evening would go better for her than it had for the fairytale heroine.
Well, now she could just sit down, twiddle her thumbs, and look over a coffee table book until Everett arrived. She eased down on the couch so as not to pull too hard on the bodice or crumple the silk. She flipped nonchalantly through a book on European castles. Yes. Spectacular. It even comes with a moat. Calli would certainly enjoy selling
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