Read Online One Lavender Ribbon by Heather Burch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heather Burch
Ads: Link
she admired it, hoping to kick up the courage to go to the door again.
The garden was full and lush and reminded her of the one she had in Chicago, but on a much grander scale. It was anchored by a picket fence that enclosed it in priceless oasis fashion. Tall stalks of a variety of vegetables reached toward the sky. Dots of red, gold, yellow, and purple were visible from under their protective leaves. She tried to count the number of different types of vegetables, but couldn’t. There were raised boxes of herbs and ground cover plants, birdbaths, and benches. And the whole thing looked like something you might see in the French countryside. Even from her car she could smell the mint that nestled in one corner.
The scent brought back memories of Chicago—good memories for a change. There were a few things she missed about the Windy City. Her garden topped the list. Then, of course, the museums. She could sit for hours and watch history collide with the present—schoolchildren strolling through the Middle Ages, young couples in love admiring the raw diamonds. Her parents had come to visit her one spring. What had her father said about museums? Oh, yes, God’s family photo album .
She’d left a few friends in the city as well. But no really close friends. Eric had discouraged her from getting too close to anyone. And the friends she’d left behind would probably have little to nothing in common with her now. The circle of five girls that got together once a week for lunch spent their time discussing what was happening in town, the new theater shows, who had gotten the best deal on a Prada bag or Chanel dress, where the new sushi bar was opening. Adrienne’s gaze drifted down over her T-shirt and jeans. If they could see me now . It was strange that she didn’t miss them more. But she did miss her garden.
She continued to admire the beautifully landscaped, custom wooden boxes of herbs, flowers, and the greenery. She might be able to build a smaller version.
That’s when she saw him.
Fifty yards beyond the garden on the dock stood a man just about the age she was looking for. She threw the car into park and shaded her eyes with her hand. The evening mist came with the low sun, sneaking up the end of the pier and almost encasing him. It was like a painting, a masterpiece half hidden in the mist’s shadow. But the man. He alone was what caused her heart to stop. In what seemed like slow motion, he worked, dragging something up out of the water. Hand over hand, he tugged a drenched rope.
As if he sensed being watched, he turned just enough for her to catch his profile. He was taller than she’d imagined and extremely fit for a man who’d seen so many decades. He worked the rope into a circle on the dock, where little droplets of water pooled on the wooden planks; the motion caused him to face her.
Her fingers shook and something dropped into the pit of her stomach. On shaky legs, Adrienne left the safety of her car. Without thinking about it, or what she might say, or anything, her feet carried her toward him. Past the house, past the vegetable garden with its sharp scent of herbs and earth. She didn’t care that she was trespassing. She walked to the edge of the pier, barely noticing the luxurious boat moored there, for her gaze stayed fixed on William.
He pulled in what looked to her like some kind of trap, seemingly unaware that she was standing there as he dropped the trap’s contents into a bucket and hoisted the container. He turned fully, as if to head home, but jolted when he saw her. Adrienne’s hand flew into her pocket where the photo lay. She stared at it, then back at him. The decay of time had taken its toll, but there was no denying the strong chin, structured features, and high brow.
William.
A friendly smile animated his face. “Evening, young lady. How can I help you?”
This was it. It was him. “I believe I’m looking for you. William Bryant.” There was more answer than question as
The garden was full and lush and reminded her of the one she had in Chicago, but on a much grander scale. It was anchored by a picket fence that enclosed it in priceless oasis fashion. Tall stalks of a variety of vegetables reached toward the sky. Dots of red, gold, yellow, and purple were visible from under their protective leaves. She tried to count the number of different types of vegetables, but couldn’t. There were raised boxes of herbs and ground cover plants, birdbaths, and benches. And the whole thing looked like something you might see in the French countryside. Even from her car she could smell the mint that nestled in one corner.
The scent brought back memories of Chicago—good memories for a change. There were a few things she missed about the Windy City. Her garden topped the list. Then, of course, the museums. She could sit for hours and watch history collide with the present—schoolchildren strolling through the Middle Ages, young couples in love admiring the raw diamonds. Her parents had come to visit her one spring. What had her father said about museums? Oh, yes, God’s family photo album .
She’d left a few friends in the city as well. But no really close friends. Eric had discouraged her from getting too close to anyone. And the friends she’d left behind would probably have little to nothing in common with her now. The circle of five girls that got together once a week for lunch spent their time discussing what was happening in town, the new theater shows, who had gotten the best deal on a Prada bag or Chanel dress, where the new sushi bar was opening. Adrienne’s gaze drifted down over her T-shirt and jeans. If they could see me now . It was strange that she didn’t miss them more. But she did miss her garden.
She continued to admire the beautifully landscaped, custom wooden boxes of herbs, flowers, and the greenery. She might be able to build a smaller version.
That’s when she saw him.
Fifty yards beyond the garden on the dock stood a man just about the age she was looking for. She threw the car into park and shaded her eyes with her hand. The evening mist came with the low sun, sneaking up the end of the pier and almost encasing him. It was like a painting, a masterpiece half hidden in the mist’s shadow. But the man. He alone was what caused her heart to stop. In what seemed like slow motion, he worked, dragging something up out of the water. Hand over hand, he tugged a drenched rope.
As if he sensed being watched, he turned just enough for her to catch his profile. He was taller than she’d imagined and extremely fit for a man who’d seen so many decades. He worked the rope into a circle on the dock, where little droplets of water pooled on the wooden planks; the motion caused him to face her.
Her fingers shook and something dropped into the pit of her stomach. On shaky legs, Adrienne left the safety of her car. Without thinking about it, or what she might say, or anything, her feet carried her toward him. Past the house, past the vegetable garden with its sharp scent of herbs and earth. She didn’t care that she was trespassing. She walked to the edge of the pier, barely noticing the luxurious boat moored there, for her gaze stayed fixed on William.
He pulled in what looked to her like some kind of trap, seemingly unaware that she was standing there as he dropped the trap’s contents into a bucket and hoisted the container. He turned fully, as if to head home, but jolted when he saw her. Adrienne’s hand flew into her pocket where the photo lay. She stared at it, then back at him. The decay of time had taken its toll, but there was no denying the strong chin, structured features, and high brow.
William.
A friendly smile animated his face. “Evening, young lady. How can I help you?”
This was it. It was him. “I believe I’m looking for you. William Bryant.” There was more answer than question as
Similar Books
