Read Online Winter in Full Bloom by Anita Higman - Free Book Online Page A

barely comprehend that I, Lily Winter, was in such an exotic locale. I’d never done anything outlandish in my life. Maybe I’d stayed up late for a Johnny Depp movie marathon or splurged on a little black dress that was searching for the perfect evening, or ate my way through a bowl of chocolate cake batter when I was feeling particularly lonesome, but those were indulgences, not colorful life events. I knew mostly ordinary days in a life that appeared not too far from trifling.
    Marcus steered me away from a group of musicians playing chamber music and then after a short walking distance he stopped. “This is it. This is the spot where I’ve seen her play. Right here. The woman who looks just like Lily.” He smiled at me.
    I scanned the area, searching and praying. Lord, please let it be. But we waited and nothing happened. No woman suddenly appeared to play her flute. So, we waited some more. The woman, whom I’d willed to come, did not, and my optimism drifted away like one of the gondolas floating on the river. My disappointment weighted my whole being like a terrible yoke.
    When Marcus saw my forlorn expression he whispered, “Sorry, Love.”
    Not too far from our spot the chamber orchestra began packing up their instruments. “Just a moment. I want to ask one of the musicians about Camille.”
    “Good idea,” Marcus said.
    I hurried toward the cellist, a young woman who appeared friendly enough. I dropped twenty dollars in a colorful basket, which sat in front of the group, and then said to her, “Excuse me. I’m looking for someone.”
    “Yes?” She set her bow into the case.
    “Have you seen a woman play a flute here in the evenings? She stands just over there.” I pointed toward her right, closer to the river.
    The woman’s smile morphed into a puzzled frown. “Is this some kind of joke?”
    “No, not at all. What do you mean?”
    “But you look like her. Just like her.” The woman gave me a good long look, taking me in from different angles. “Except, I guess your hair is longer.”
    “Really?” My heart sped up. “This woman … she’s my identical twin sister. At least I think she is. Her name is Camille. Do you know her?”
    “Never met her. But she does play here sometimes. She was here a couple of nights ago. But I think I heard her coughing. Maybe she’s ill.” The woman snapped her instrument case shut and looked like she was ready to move on.
    Why was everyone always in such a hurry? Perhaps I’d become a still-life painting. I talked faster. “So, you don’t know if her name is Camille or when she might come back? Any details about her at all?”
    “No, I’m sorry. But she does play beautifully. I’m envious of her, I’ll tell you that.”
    “Oh?”
    “You’re American, aren’t you?” she asked.
    “Yes. I’ve come a long way to find her. All the way from Houston.”
    “I love Texas … cowboys.” The young woman’s face lit up.
    “We have a few cowboys there.” The taxi driver had mentioned John Wayne. Guess Australians had seen too many old westerns.
    “Here we call cowboys and cowgirls jackaroos and jillaroos.”
    “That’s cute.”
    “Well, if you want to find your sister,” the young woman went on to say, “I’d come back every evening. You’re bound to catch her eventually. Good luck.”
    “Thanks for your help.”
    “Sure.” The woman turned back toward her group.
    When I glanced around, Marcus stood nearby. I told him, “I’m ready to go. I guess you heard all that.”
    “I did. So, are you encouraged?”
    “Yes, and I’m going to be right here tomorrow evening.”
    “I’ll come with you. That is, if you want me to.” Marcus’s expression was a question mark dotted with hope.
    “I do, but are you sure? All this endless standing and waiting can’t be that fun for you.”
    “Trust me, there’s no hardship in being with you.” He gestured toward his jacket, which I was still wearing. “I almost forgot,” he said. “Look in the