Blue Fire by Phyllis A. Whitney

Author:Phyllis A. Whitney
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504043922
Publisher: Open Road Media Romance
Published: 2017-04-05T04:00:00+00:00

13

A few mornings later, with time on her hands once more, Susan went down to the library at the end of the Avenue, where Adderley Street began, to look up some books on photography. When she had what she wanted, she came out the door to discover Thomas Scott standing on the library steps with a book in his hands. He was leafing through the pages with such absorption that he did not see her, and she was struck by the change in him.

The usual guard he seemed to hold against everyone had lifted. He had lost himself completely in the book he held and it occurred to her that a shot of him here on the steps might fit into the series she was planning.

If he saw her, the picture would be spoiled, so she focused her camera quickly and set the stops. As the shutter clicked, Thomas looked up from his page and saw her. With a quick, almost secretive movement, he closed the book and thrust it under one arm.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Susan said, abashed a little too late by this invasion of his privacy. “You—you made such a good picture there on the steps and …” Her words died lamely away at his lack of response.

For an instant she saw hostility flare in his eyes. Then his guard was in place again as he came down the steps toward her.

“Good morning, madam,” he said correctly and made no reference to the picture she had taken.

“How is my father?” she asked, wanting to hold him there a moment and perhaps find a way to soften her action, to apologize, if that would help.

Thomas gestured toward the gardens. “Mr. van Pelt is just over there, madam, if you wish to see him.” He touched his cap and walked away, the book still under his arm. For all his courtesy, she felt that she had been reproved, and with justification. But the change she had seen so briefly in his face held her interest, and she wondered what book might have given him that different look.

She stood on the sidewalk for a moment longer, watching passers-by and the hurrying traffic. The usual assorted crowd thronged Adderley Street. There were Malay women with veils across their foreheads and under their chins, colored messenger boys wearing white pith helmets, now and then a “blanket native,” barefoot and wearing wrapped about him the blanket that distinguished him from those who had left the reservation long behind. There were many white people, of course, and many of the colored people of the Cape.

When she turned toward the gardens she did not move quickly, not being entirely sure that she wanted to see her father. None of her meetings with him had been very happy ones, and perhaps he took no more joy in her company than she had found in his. However, since Thomas might report having seen her, it seemed only courteous to stop and speak to him.

She followed a

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