Read Online Larkspur Dreams by Anita Higman, Janice Hanna - Free Book Online Page B

school—the students she’d revved up to a feverish pitch. The rush of winning. She wondered if she still had it in her. She lifted the megaphone to her mouth and announced, “Okay. Picasso. This is Lark speaking. Let’s bring yourself on home now. You can do this, Picasso. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go!”
    As if on some unexplainable cue, Picasso stopped in mid-waddle in the center of the street. He turned around, lowered his head, and began his descent from rapture. Skelly turned around, shrugging his shoulders at her. Then he laughed until his whole body quaked.
    Hey. Kind of fun, but I hope Everett isn’t watching. Probably wouldn’t come off too romantic, all gussied up in velvet and rhinestones while hollering at a duck through a megaphone.
    When Picasso toddled up to her, she reached down to stroke his neck. He felt as soft as her velvet. “Okay, little guy. Come on. I don’t know how you got out of your cage again, but you have got to stop this. Your home is so nice and woodsy.” Lark continued to murmur soft assurances as she lured him into the backyard. “It’s full of your favorite treats. Isn’t that right?” She reached inside the backdoor and flipped on all the backyard lights.
    Picasso looked back at her with a darling expression. Ducks are so cute. She was such a sucker. But Picasso knew the fun ride was over. “Yes, sweetie. Time to go home.” She closed the gate and secured it with extra heavy wire. There. Mission accomplished.
    But somewhere in leading Picasso to the backyard, she’d forgotten to keep the flowing silk of her skirt draped over her arm. She hesitated, but knew she’d have to make an assessment. Slowly she moved her gaze downward. Some of the trim of her gown was splattered with muddy snow and white gooey duck drippings. “Picasso! You scalawag! You have ruined my first, and now probably my last, date with Everett.”
    As if knowing his guilt, Picasso began quacking anxiously around in his home.
    “It’s okay,” Lark said. “Well, no, it isn’t.” She lowered her head, wondering how things could have gone so wrong so quickly.
    The wind had picked up, and as always she had no coat on. She shivered as she trudged back toward the house. She could always put on another gown and shoes. But it wouldn’t match her jewelry and eye shadow. Get a grip, Lark. You’ve never cared about that sort of thing in your life. Guess I need to call Calli and have her slap me around to knock some sense into me. It’s what friends are for after all.
    Okay. Focus. Another gown? What time is it? With lightning speed, she hurried into the kitchen and looked at the clock. Six twenty-nine. She had sixty seconds. Oh dear.
    The doorbell rang. She popped in the powder room to look in the mirror. Yikes. She winced. Her hair looked like she’d been riding on the back of Jeremy’s motorbike. For hours. She slogged to the door, opened it, and waited to hear how many creative excuses Everett could come up with as to why their date should be postponed. . .forever.

Eleven
    Everett tried hard not to stare. But Lark stood there with her hair departing in several directions, none of which seemed to be the right ones. And her dress appeared soiled. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. He couldn’t stand her distress a moment longer.
    Within an instant, Everett came through the doorway and stood in front of her. He was close enough to feel Lark’s breath on his face. I barely know her. Would she want me to comfort her? She didn’t seem to object to his nearness, so he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped away her tears. Her skin felt so soft and her expression so appealing and feminine, he wanted to kiss her. But he didn’t want to ruin the moment. “You must really love your duck,” Everett said.
    “You saw that?” Lark took a step back.
    Everett slowly nodded.
    “So what did you see, exactly?”
    “Only what happened in your backyard. I heard you yell, ‘Picasso! You scalawag!’ And then