Hearts Divided (Cedar Cove #5.5)(70)

Clara, my love,  I’m remembering the first night you sneaked out of the dormitory to be with me. I was so worried you’d fall as you climbed down the tree. You laughed at my worry. I can hear that fearless laughter even now.  You scampered down the oak, long skirts and all, as if you’d been climbing trees all your life. We walked to the river. Do you remember? And lay beside each other on the grass. We listened to the sounds of the autumn night. The owl talking to the moon. The river lapping at our feet.  I listened to you breathe. When you breathed out, my Clara, I breathed in. I wanted to draw deep within me the air still warm from being deep within you. I wondered if you were doing the same.  It was the only way we could touch on that September night. We’d known each other just one week. We lay as close as we could without touching, didn’t we?  I wanted to touch you, Clara. You discovered, later, how much. But I’m glad we didn’t touch on that night.  I can lie here, so many miles away—a world away, my darling—and pretend you’re beside me now, and that the night air that’s giving me life, giving me hope, is doing so because it was breathed first by you.  I love you, Clara. More than life, and long beyond death.  I’m lying beside you, my love.  Always,

Charles   “Oh, Granddad,” Elizabeth whispered as she placed the letter beside the others she’d read. “Granddad.”

After a moment, and through the blur of dampness in her eyes, she glanced at the stovetop clock.

Eleven forty-five. Time to get ready for Nick. Mentally ready, she amended, for the switching of cerebral gears from Granddad’s letters, Granddad’s love, to choosing colors schemes for the house—with Nick.

Mental preparedness was required there, as well. She felt wary about seeing Nick. Quite wary. But quite eager, too.

It was an unsettling paradox, and a crazy one. Crazy being the operative word.

A little head-clearing fresh air was in order, and it was hers for the taking. Last night’s rainstorm was now a memory. The world it left behind sparkled fresh and clean.

She walked the length of the driveway. At its farthest reach, she sat on a patch of grass beneath an apple tree. Eyes closed, she lifted her face skyward. The air was warm, as if from the lungs of a loved one lying close by. She inhaled deeply and was rewarded with a gift from an orchard of friends, the delicate scent of apples ripening beneath the summer sun.

Elizabeth Charlotte Winslow didn’t have a freeze-frame kind of beauty; Nick had already decided that.

But the face that smiled at the sun was as motionless as a painting, and more beautiful than any he’d ever seen.

She was sitting beneath the very tree where he’d found her, sobbing, as a girl, and he was approaching from behind her, as he had on that December afternoon.

He would’ve been happy to watch her forever. But she had no idea she was being observed, and he had no right not to tell her.

“Elizabeth.”

Her eyes flew open and she scrambled to her feet.

“Nick.”

“On the lookout for Matthew?”

“No. I…” On the lookout for you. “Gram said you’d be coming from Center Street.”

“I came early. There’s a fence rail that needs replacing. I wanted to check for others before making a run to the lumber store.”

“You take such good care of her.”

“I’m honored that she lets me.” Nick gestured toward the hill up which he’d once carried a singing, clinging little girl. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” They ascended in silence, except for the swishing sound of her jeans legs brushing against each other. Finally she said, “Matthew won’t be coming to Sarah’s Orchard.”

“So he’s dead, after all.”

“What? No!”

“No?” Then why isn’t he moving heaven and earth to win you back? “What did you do?”

“When I saw…what I saw, I put my engagement ring in a wedding-invitation envelope, slid it through the mail slot in his door and drove away.”

“That’s nice. Classy.” His smile was solemn. But it was a smile. “Very haiku.”

She stopped. The denim stopped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I thought it was very haiku, too. Are you a poet?”

“I’m a handyman, Elizabeth.” Nick resumed walking. “So you think your haiku message will keep Matthew away?”

“No. But I’m hoping the conversation we had when he called last night will. I believe I made it clear that any further discussions would be a waste of his time—and mine.”

“You meant it.”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll bet he wasn’t happy.”

“He was…surprised. He tried to convince me that what he’d done had ‘just happened,’ as if he’d had no more control over it than if he’d been struck by lightning. And, of course, he said it meant nothing to him. Janine meant nothing.”

“You obviously weren’t convinced.”

“I told him I thought he was in love with Janine and should have the courage to marry her, no matter how his parents felt about it. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He was still trying to persuade me to forgive him. I said I already had, but that the marriage was off.”