Read Online One Lavender Ribbon by Heather Burch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Burch
Ads: Link
his name rolled off her tongue. More star-struck wonder than she would have thought.
Kind eyes searched her face, a hint of a frown deepening the lines between his brows. “Do we know each other? I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you.”
“I recognize you.” She reached into her pocket and held the photo out to him. “But not from your picture. From the letters.”
Ever so slowly he took the photo from her. She watched sixty years of memories flood him, and for an instant, Adrienne was sure her coming was a mistake.
He sat the bucket down gently. Angry crabs bumped and knocked at the sides as he gazed upon his past. Beyond them, the boat rocked, canal water slapping against it. Crickets were beginning their nightly song, their sound intensifying as night fell. Finally, he spoke. “You said you recognized me from my letters?”
She nodded and was struck with the very real possibility that he would have no interest in talking to her. A wave of anxiety washed over. Maybe he would want to retrieve the letters and bid her good-bye.
Of course, that was supposed to be okay. But now that she was here, face to face, the idea of leaving without having even one conversation with this man scared her.
Tender blue eyes, watery from age, studied her as if he read her thoughts. “I think we must have a lot to talk about.”
Adrienne sighed relief.
He motioned in front of them toward his back door, just up a slight hill from the pier. As the fog closed in and drained color from the surrounding world, they made their way to the back of the house, with William pressing a hand against his left knee with each step.
They reached the back porch, but Adrienne paused in hesitation, recalling the conversation only a week before with the other William Bryant.
“Something wrong, dear?” He pulled the door open.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Last week I knocked on the front door. The man there was less than forthcoming about your whereabouts.”
He frowned for a quick second. “That’s Will, my grandson. He’s got a heart of gold but tends to be a little overprotective.”
Heart of gold, yeah, right. “Well, I don’t think he’ll be happy I’m here. He was pretty quick to get rid of me.”
“Nonsense.” He shooed her into the kitchen while crabs smacked the sides of the bucket. “We can talk while I fix dinner. Would that be okay?”
“Um, yes.” Adrienne raised and dropped her hands. “That would be fine.”
They went inside, and he reached for a stack of newspapers and handed some to Adrienne. She copied him, spreading the papers across the kitchen table, noticing the difference between her hands—smooth and with fingertips tinted by wood stain, and his—wrinkled and age-spotted, with swollen, arthritic knuckles. Somehow, he managed an air of strength despite the obvious frailty.
She couldn’t believe she was here. With him. With William. The same man who had invaded Normandy. The same man who had nearly frozen and starved at Bastogne. The man who never gave up. But the most remarkable thing about it—he was everything she’d imagined. Men like him really did exist. Even if they were from generations ago.
T hey were laughing when Will neared the room. He peeked from the living room around the kitchen door to find her and Pops sitting at the table. Her long dark hair shone everywhere the light hit it. Her voice was sultry as it slipped out of that soft, generous mouth. There was a scent of citrus and flowers surrounding her, and if it hadn’t been for the pungent aroma of fresh crab, it might have been disarming. Will rubbed a hand over his face, shook his head to clear it, and glanced around the room, trying to erase the vision of the woman he’d met last week. Fat chance. He’d thought about her often in the last seven days. Even caught himself glancing up at work occasionally when he caught a glimpse of dark hair. Ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as her showing up to inquire about his grandfather.
Kind eyes searched her face, a hint of a frown deepening the lines between his brows. “Do we know each other? I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you.”
“I recognize you.” She reached into her pocket and held the photo out to him. “But not from your picture. From the letters.”
Ever so slowly he took the photo from her. She watched sixty years of memories flood him, and for an instant, Adrienne was sure her coming was a mistake.
He sat the bucket down gently. Angry crabs bumped and knocked at the sides as he gazed upon his past. Beyond them, the boat rocked, canal water slapping against it. Crickets were beginning their nightly song, their sound intensifying as night fell. Finally, he spoke. “You said you recognized me from my letters?”
She nodded and was struck with the very real possibility that he would have no interest in talking to her. A wave of anxiety washed over. Maybe he would want to retrieve the letters and bid her good-bye.
Of course, that was supposed to be okay. But now that she was here, face to face, the idea of leaving without having even one conversation with this man scared her.
Tender blue eyes, watery from age, studied her as if he read her thoughts. “I think we must have a lot to talk about.”
Adrienne sighed relief.
He motioned in front of them toward his back door, just up a slight hill from the pier. As the fog closed in and drained color from the surrounding world, they made their way to the back of the house, with William pressing a hand against his left knee with each step.
They reached the back porch, but Adrienne paused in hesitation, recalling the conversation only a week before with the other William Bryant.
“Something wrong, dear?” He pulled the door open.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Last week I knocked on the front door. The man there was less than forthcoming about your whereabouts.”
He frowned for a quick second. “That’s Will, my grandson. He’s got a heart of gold but tends to be a little overprotective.”
Heart of gold, yeah, right. “Well, I don’t think he’ll be happy I’m here. He was pretty quick to get rid of me.”
“Nonsense.” He shooed her into the kitchen while crabs smacked the sides of the bucket. “We can talk while I fix dinner. Would that be okay?”
“Um, yes.” Adrienne raised and dropped her hands. “That would be fine.”
They went inside, and he reached for a stack of newspapers and handed some to Adrienne. She copied him, spreading the papers across the kitchen table, noticing the difference between her hands—smooth and with fingertips tinted by wood stain, and his—wrinkled and age-spotted, with swollen, arthritic knuckles. Somehow, he managed an air of strength despite the obvious frailty.
She couldn’t believe she was here. With him. With William. The same man who had invaded Normandy. The same man who had nearly frozen and starved at Bastogne. The man who never gave up. But the most remarkable thing about it—he was everything she’d imagined. Men like him really did exist. Even if they were from generations ago.
T hey were laughing when Will neared the room. He peeked from the living room around the kitchen door to find her and Pops sitting at the table. Her long dark hair shone everywhere the light hit it. Her voice was sultry as it slipped out of that soft, generous mouth. There was a scent of citrus and flowers surrounding her, and if it hadn’t been for the pungent aroma of fresh crab, it might have been disarming. Will rubbed a hand over his face, shook his head to clear it, and glanced around the room, trying to erase the vision of the woman he’d met last week. Fat chance. He’d thought about her often in the last seven days. Even caught himself glancing up at work occasionally when he caught a glimpse of dark hair. Ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as her showing up to inquire about his grandfather.
Similar Books
