Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(15)



“And that is something we at Inspire can help you with.” Mary tapped a finger to her own heart. “You’d be surprised at the power that comes from the deep places inside if you open to it, touch it, and let it be part of your daily life. You’re stronger than you think, Natasha.”

A tear rolled down Natasha’s cheek. She sucked in her breath to stifle its many companions waiting behind her eyes to flood out.

Mary handed her a tissue. “Want to tell me what else is going on?” She nodded toward the papers Natasha still held.

In the soft light of Mary’s small office, through a stream of long-dammed tears, Natasha admitted her dark secret.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Natasha implored after she’d spilled the story of her dyslexia. “Tyler doesn’t know. I think he suspects, but I wanted to wait until he was a bit older to tell him. I educated myself by listening to books on tape. Hundreds of them. And I sneaked into lectures at the community college while Tyler was an infant, before he started school. Once he started school, I went back to work. But I kept up with the books on tape.”

She paused and uncrossed her arms. She hadn’t been aware of the defensive stance and didn’t want to appear shaken.

“I can do the job in the garden of the Casa just fine. I can, I assure you.” She heard the pleading sound in her voice and tried for a confident tone. “But I need help with these insurance forms.”

“I have no doubts about your being able to do the job. For now, it’s a perfect fit. And don’t worry, I keep many secrets. But yours is one we can do something about. There’s a program at the local college—they’ve had great luck with adults with dyslexia. With your permission, I’ll check into it for you.”

“I’ve tried everything.” It wasn’t quite true. She’d given up after Tyler started school. Nothing had worked.

“This is a new approach. It can’t hurt to try.”

In the face of Mary’s enthusiasm, Natasha agreed to attend one session with the class instructor and to meet with a counselor. And as Mary helped her fill out the forms, hope swelled in her chest. But she knew better than to trust hope. It always let her down.

Her phone rang just as they finished the last page. Natasha grabbed it from her pocket. Something awful must have happened to Tyler. Her heart pounded as she answered the call.





Chapter Five



WHAT THE HELL HAD SHE BEEN THINKING? Natasha’s thoughts hammered hard the next morning as she walked the six blocks from Inspire to the Rock Wren Café. Petals from cherry blossoms, blown loose by a gentle breeze, swirled on the sidewalk and danced in the sunlight, but she barely registered the gorgeous April morning.

What had possessed her to say yes? To agree to meet Dumas—or whatever his name was—at a café? To go to a botanical garden God only knew where?

She ordered a black coffee and chose a seat outside in the dappled sunlight. The Rock Wren Café had darned fine coffee. A cup of coffee she could afford. Pastries, no. Not yet. But she’d eyed the croissants as she’d stood at the counter and wished for the day when her choices wouldn’t be so difficult.

She’d said no right off when he’d called. Very clearly. Told him she was busy for weeks.

He’d laughed and said that life required that we make space in our schedules for spring. Otherwise the powers that went to immense bother to conjure up such beauty would be vexed.

She’d had no answer to that.

And then he’d again asked her to go with him to the Asian Botanical Garden. A walk, he’d said. Just a walk.

And she heard herself say yes.

She sipped the coffee, and it burned a trail of heat down her throat. Each time a car pulled up in the parking spaces near the café, Natasha watched as doors opened and drivers stepped out.

What had he looked like? She hadn’t seen much of his face, but she’d recognize his eyes if he were close enough.

And she’d know his smile.

She’d seen his smile in her dreams. She hadn’t had the old dream last night—the dream where her mother insisted that number seventeen would lead to her destiny, the dream that lit a fuse of shame every time she awakened and remembered her foolish gamble. But the sensual, almost magical dream that had replaced it had shaken her to her core.

Her coffee cooled as she sat waiting. Twice she started to get up and leave. Both times she talked her fear down. What harm could there be in taking a walk in a public garden?

A silver sports car pulled up halfway down the block. The door opened. The driver stepped out and ran a hand through his hair.

Even though he wore mirrored sunglasses, she recognized his dark curly hair and broad shoulders. And his height. Not many men were six foot three or so. He ran his hand through his hair again. Maybe he was nervous too.

He looked down the street, saw her, then he smiled and raised a hand in a friendly salute.

Her hormones did a tap dance in her belly, tattooing their glee through her veins. She’d have to have a word with the rascals when she returned home.

He covered the distance between his car and the café in strong, confident strides. Maybe he wasn’t nervous after all. That thought made Natasha’s own nerves spike. No wonder teenagers melted down during their dating years; meeting up with another person was serious business. But this wasn’t a date. It was just a walk. In a botanical garden.

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