would finally scare you away.”
“I never said I wasn’t bored,” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss that lasted several seconds. “But I love you.” Her eyes glittered in response to that. “I love you, and you will have to try so much harder to dissuade me.”
“Mmm. Maybe I don’t feel like trying all that hard,” she cooed, melting into his embrace.
“Good.” He kissed the top of her head.
They started walking toward the exit of the Jardin.
“I’m just glad you didn’t get down on one knee,” Annabelle said. “If I get proposed to someday, I want it to be an intimate moment, not surrounded by strangers.”
Jeremy had his free hand stuck deep in his pocket. He toyed with the small, velvety box that hid there, secreted away until the perfect moment. He feared that moment had just passed.
“A proposal? In the Garden? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
With a jarring transition, Jeremy awoke into the present. He was delirious for several moments as he took stock of the room. The fire had died down to smoldering embers, and the warmth of the room had greatly diminished with it. His head pounded and he was reluctant to leave the embrace of his bedcovers. He probably would have succumbed to the allure of further sleep if he hadn’t smelled breakfast cooking.
Outside, the day was already well underway. Flowers of red and orange and blue opened up happily to the sun, greedily drinking in its energy. Even further, the orchards were in full bloom with pears and apples. But not peaches , Jeremy reminded himself. And even further out beyond those, almost invisible from the window, he could just make out the broad, rounded tops of the black walnut grove. A murder of crows flew in that direction.
The hardwood floor was cool on his bare feet and Jeremy hurried to slip on a pair of loafers. His bandages, he noticed by way of the mirror, had been changed. There was only a small, bright dot of red right over the source of the throbbing pain he felt. He was having difficulty wrestling with his father’s memories; they felt so real , as real as any memory properly his own.
“Get your breakfast while it’s hot or all of this will be for naught!” his mother called out loudly. Jeremy groaned inwardly at her rhyme as he padded his way quietly down the hallway to the kitchen.
To call the Scott country home a ranch was something of an understatement. Strong, wooden beams, as thick and rough as freshly felled trees, framed the residence over an area about the size of an acre. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the south walls, and the golden sunlight filled the main lounging room. Shelves had been built into the chairs and couch, each one filled with books of all sizes and colors. Hardwood flooring was covered here and there by soft area rugs, upon which sat the furniture.
Adjacent to the lounging area was the kitchen; all polished stone and smooth granite, the kitchen was very modern with an aesthetic feel that somehow meshed with the natural décor of the rest of the house. Inside was his mother, with an apron around her waist and her blonde hair pulled back into a bun.
“Hi, honey,” she said, smiling sweetly at him as he entered. “I’m glad you’re finally awake, it’s been so quiet all morning.”
“Morning, Ann—uh, Mom,” he replied, covering his slip-up with a yawn. “I slept like the dead.”
She looked at him worriedly for a moment.
“Breakfast,” Jeremy said quickly, gesturing. “Smells good. Pancakes?”
“Of course, my baby’s favorite.”
“Mom,” he groaned. He was hardly a baby anymore.
“Pancakes are just about finished, and I have scrambled eggs coming up in a few minutes. There’s bread waiting to be toasted, butter and jam on the table. I’m guessing you want milk?”
“Yes, please,” he said.
“Well you know where to find it,” Annabelle replied, gesturing toward the fridge. He grinned to himself. She hadn’t changed a bit in the twenty-three years he’d known
“I never said I wasn’t bored,” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss that lasted several seconds. “But I love you.” Her eyes glittered in response to that. “I love you, and you will have to try so much harder to dissuade me.”
“Mmm. Maybe I don’t feel like trying all that hard,” she cooed, melting into his embrace.
“Good.” He kissed the top of her head.
They started walking toward the exit of the Jardin.
“I’m just glad you didn’t get down on one knee,” Annabelle said. “If I get proposed to someday, I want it to be an intimate moment, not surrounded by strangers.”
Jeremy had his free hand stuck deep in his pocket. He toyed with the small, velvety box that hid there, secreted away until the perfect moment. He feared that moment had just passed.
“A proposal? In the Garden? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
With a jarring transition, Jeremy awoke into the present. He was delirious for several moments as he took stock of the room. The fire had died down to smoldering embers, and the warmth of the room had greatly diminished with it. His head pounded and he was reluctant to leave the embrace of his bedcovers. He probably would have succumbed to the allure of further sleep if he hadn’t smelled breakfast cooking.
Outside, the day was already well underway. Flowers of red and orange and blue opened up happily to the sun, greedily drinking in its energy. Even further, the orchards were in full bloom with pears and apples. But not peaches , Jeremy reminded himself. And even further out beyond those, almost invisible from the window, he could just make out the broad, rounded tops of the black walnut grove. A murder of crows flew in that direction.
The hardwood floor was cool on his bare feet and Jeremy hurried to slip on a pair of loafers. His bandages, he noticed by way of the mirror, had been changed. There was only a small, bright dot of red right over the source of the throbbing pain he felt. He was having difficulty wrestling with his father’s memories; they felt so real , as real as any memory properly his own.
“Get your breakfast while it’s hot or all of this will be for naught!” his mother called out loudly. Jeremy groaned inwardly at her rhyme as he padded his way quietly down the hallway to the kitchen.
To call the Scott country home a ranch was something of an understatement. Strong, wooden beams, as thick and rough as freshly felled trees, framed the residence over an area about the size of an acre. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the south walls, and the golden sunlight filled the main lounging room. Shelves had been built into the chairs and couch, each one filled with books of all sizes and colors. Hardwood flooring was covered here and there by soft area rugs, upon which sat the furniture.
Adjacent to the lounging area was the kitchen; all polished stone and smooth granite, the kitchen was very modern with an aesthetic feel that somehow meshed with the natural décor of the rest of the house. Inside was his mother, with an apron around her waist and her blonde hair pulled back into a bun.
“Hi, honey,” she said, smiling sweetly at him as he entered. “I’m glad you’re finally awake, it’s been so quiet all morning.”
“Morning, Ann—uh, Mom,” he replied, covering his slip-up with a yawn. “I slept like the dead.”
She looked at him worriedly for a moment.
“Breakfast,” Jeremy said quickly, gesturing. “Smells good. Pancakes?”
“Of course, my baby’s favorite.”
“Mom,” he groaned. He was hardly a baby anymore.
“Pancakes are just about finished, and I have scrambled eggs coming up in a few minutes. There’s bread waiting to be toasted, butter and jam on the table. I’m guessing you want milk?”
“Yes, please,” he said.
“Well you know where to find it,” Annabelle replied, gesturing toward the fridge. He grinned to himself. She hadn’t changed a bit in the twenty-three years he’d known
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