The Heart Remembers by Michele Huey

Author:Michele Huey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Helping Hands Press

Bill still wouldn’t tell us what surprise he had planned for the afternoon. All he said was that were we heading south.

“But first I have to stop at the house,” he said. “It’s just a couple miles down the road.”

We headed back down the river road, passing our cabin along the way. I rolled down my window to enjoy the sweet scent of the giant pines that lined both sides of the road. Pinkish white blossoms of mountain laurel bushes, just beginning to open along the river banks, nodded as we passed.

“I thought the mountain laurel bloomed in early June, right after the lilacs,” I said.

“Most do,” Bill said, “but the ones along the river bank have always come into blossom late June, early July. Collie used to call them ‘river laurel.’”

“Speaking of which,” Mickie said from the backseat, “where are your kids today? I was hoping to meet them.”

Bill slowed down and steered the SUV to the edge of the road, right wheels running on the berm, to let an oncoming car pass.

“Will’s tending to some reunion details for me, and Collie has the day off.” He glanced at the rearview mirror then eased the wheels back onto the road. “She’s been working ten, twelve hour days helping me get this shindig off the ground. And she’s taking her mother’s death pretty hard.”

“Is that part of your resort?” I asked, pointing to a red-shingled cottage in a copse of trees back off the road on the left. A garage, sided with the same red shingles, stood about ten feet behind the bungalow and off to the left. A white clapboard building—it looked like a shop of some sort—about the size of the garage sat along the back edge of the cut grass and to the right of the cottage.

“That’s where Steve lives,” Bill said. “You remember—the caretaker?”

I leaned forward to get a better look. Several wooden birdfeeders hung from the trees in the yard. Impatiens spread their riot of colors in beds along the edge of the front porch. Purple, white, and yellow blossoms peeked through the wire fence surrounding a vegetable garden in the backyard near the shop. Clusters of marigolds lined the fence on all sides. No green truck was parked in the gravel driveway. Like the rest of the resort, Steve’s place was well maintained, and had a cozy, down-home look to it.

“Does his wife work for you, too?” I asked.

“Steve’s not married.”

A strange, sweet relief coursed through me. Why that would be good news, I had no idea. My heart had been treading new ground since I decided to change Seth’s status. But there was something about that caretaker that made me want to find out more about him. Silly woman! I scolded myself. You have the owner of the resort courting you, and you’re more interested in the hired help. The heart does strange things when it’s hungry for love.

“How long has he been with you?” I asked.

“Hmmm . . . about ten—no make that eleven years.

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