Iris Johansen by The Trustworthy Redhead (html)

Author:The Trustworthy Redhead (html) [Redhead, The Trustworthy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-07-07T20:44:18+00:00

"I'm going to the Circle C," she said quietly. "I want you to get to know each other and I think it will be easier if you're alone. Will you tell Alex I'll be waiting there for him?"

David nodded. "He won't be angry, will he?"

"Perhaps a little," she said calmly. "But he won't be when he understands."

"If you say so," he said absently. "Look, Bree." His finger gently touched one green sprig. "We bury them in the earth and yet they fight their way to the sun. It's a miracle. Who could believe something so beautiful could come out of the darkness."

"I believe it," she said, her gaze on the gentle wonder radiating from his face. She turned leaving David to continue to nurture his garden of love.

When Sabrina parked the Volkswagen in front of the ranch house it was already sunset. There wasn't much left to do, thank heaven. She'd come over earlier in the week and swept and scrubbed the room until it sparkled. Now she went directly from the dim hallway into the living room, and lit the logs she'd carefully laid in the fireplace. Soon there was a crackling blaze.

Then she set about lighting the candles. It took her a long time, for she'd garnered every empty wine and soda bottle she could find at the Bradfords', wrapped them in glittering silver foil, and mounted a white candle in each one. There wasn't much she could do to make this large, empty room look festive, but she wanted Alex to know as soon as he came in that she regarded his homecoming as a celebration. When she finished arranging the candles, she gave a contented sigh. Their dancing shadows played on the walls, and they lit the darkness like a birthday cake. Yes, Alex would know she was celebrating.

She moved to the fireplace and dropped down on the cushions she'd carefully covered with a crisp, cotton sheet. She kicked off her sandals and tucked her blouse into the waist of her jeans. She'd deliberately dressed as casually as possible but hadn't been able to resist wearing this simple, white poet's blouse with its extravagantly full sleeves that buttoned at the wrist. It gave her the romantic air of a corsair and exactly matched her mood tonight. Crossing her legs tailor fashion, she settled herself patiently to wait.

The candles were almost half burned and she'd had to twice restoke the fire before she heard the car pull up outside. Then there was the sound of swift, firm footsteps on the porch, the front door was thrown violently open, and she felt her breath stop and her heart turn over. God, she had missed him! It seemed more like a year than two weeks since that night on the island.

Then he was there, lighting the room with a vitality brighter than her candles. His clos black jeans hugged the strong line of hi—

and the sleeves of his black sports shirt were rolled carelessly to the elbow. His dark silky hair was rumpled and there was a grim frown on his face.

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