Read Online The First Warm Evening of the Year by Jamie M. Saul - Free Book Online Page A

laughter at the funny parts of a movie and tell me what kind of day you had because that’s what we do. I want to know what it’s like to kiss you over and over again. And it’s driving me crazy to think that will never happen because you think what you have is enough for you.”
    Marian had been leaning closer while I said this, and when she spoke, her voice didn’t sound all that firm. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before she said, “I have what I want. You’ve met my boyfriend, and I get along with him just fine. I have my business, and this house that I come back to every day. That, Geoffrey, is enough for me. And—why should you care so much about what is or isn’t right for me?” Before I could say anything more, she said, “You’re not one of those people who gets a charge out of complicating other people’s lives, are you?” She still seemed to be having trouble finding her voice.
    â€œI don’t want to complicate anything.”
    â€œBecause one thing I don’t want to do is complicate my life.”
    â€œYou mean, what you don’t want me to do is complicate your life.”
    â€œThat’s what I said.”
    â€œNo. You said the one thing you don’t want to do.”
    â€œEither way.” The expression on her face made me think of the way she had looked standing in the middle of Laura’s living room.
    â€œWhat I want right now,” I said, “is to hear you tell me what it’s going to look like outside in the summer. And tell me slowly, so I can memorize your voice. And I want to come back here and see your gardens with you.”
    Marian stood up, walked around the table, and stood behind me. I turned my head and saw her hands resting on the back of my chair. She’d moved a little closer to me now, and I could feel the soft warmth of her torso near the back of my neck.
    She said, “Summer is still a long way off. But I’ll tell you. If you like.”
    I turned my head toward her. Her face looked a little flushed.
    I told her, “Yes. I’d like that very much.” My voice wasn’t any firmer than hers.
    She took a step around and leaned her hip against the side of the chair. “You probably saw the woodland garden when you parked your car. Buddy and I started building that right after we got married. If you walked in you’d be able to see the trillium that’s starting to come up, primroses, and soon the spring bulbs will start blossoming, you know, daffodils, crocuses . . . Around the side of the house, the lilac bushes start flowering, but not until late May.” She raised her eyes toward the door. “And white peonies. In the moonlight, they give off their own light. Which is why you plant them.”
    There was a change in Marian’s voice, an airiness, a pleasing enthusiasm; and when she described the shapes of the gardens, an animation. I wished that I could see what she was seeing.
    She brushed her hand across the back of the chair, just below my shoulders, as though she were daring herself to touch me, at least I enjoyed thinking she was.
    Marian was speaking slowly now, telling me about the different grasses that came back every year, and what flowers appeared in June and July. “The delphiniums— tall and spiky. You’d recognize them if you saw them. A true blue. A very hard color to achieve in the garden palette.”
    â€œThey’re your favorites,” I said, leaning my head back and turning just enough to look at her. “Or maybe roses. You must have roses.”
    â€œI’ve talked too much.” She pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her wrists and said in a tone that was more playful than I’d have expected, “What about you? What great loves have you lost over the years, Geoffrey?”
    â€œI’ve never loved anyone enough to miss them when they’re gone.”
    â€œThen you were