have made Cyrus sad.
He
didn’t reply, and she didn’t know what to say. So they walked in silence until
they rounded another large ornamental hedge and moved into a wooded area. After
a minute, they nearly ran into a stone wall. “Here it is,” Cyrus said. “The
door is just here. The key is hidden, of course.”
“I
can see why it’s secret,” she said when he pushed his way past thick branches
to pull out a loose stone and retrieve a key. “I never would have found this on
my own.”
When
he opened the creaky door, she clapped her hands in uninhibited delight. Unlike
the rest of the gardens, which were formal and immaculate, this one was free
and sprawling in the English style, with flower beds spilling over into each
other, big trees growing in haphazard directions, and stone benches and pots
nearly overgrown with ivy and vines.
“I
love it!” She turned full circle, trying to take in everything. “It’s my
favorite part of the whole estate.”
After
a moment, she shot him a quick glance, not wanting her comment to be
unintentionally insulting. Cyrus didn’t look offended, however. He looked
wistful again.
“Was
this here when you bought the estate?” she asked, searching for innocuous
conversation, since she was feeling strangely sorry for the man beside her and
had no idea what to do with the feeling.
He
nodded. “One of the previous owners built it in the nineteenth century. It was
completely overrun when I bought it. My landscapers wanted to just tear the
walls down, but I wouldn’t let them. It took years to get it back into shape.”
“I’m
so glad you did. I love it.”
She
stood a little awkwardly, unsure of whether he would want to leave or not now
that he’d shown her the garden. She didn’t want to leave yet, but she didn’t
want him stick around just to entertain her.
She
was trying to think of a polite way to suggest that he could leave her on her
own in the garden when he walked over to one of the stone benches. “Would you
like to sit?”
She
walked over, amazed that he didn’t sit until she did. Sarah didn’t think anyone
followed old rules of courtesy anymore.
Cyrus
folded his hands in his lap and stared down at the grass at his feet. “Is
Jonathan doing all right?” he asked, without prelude or segue.
Sarah
blinked, processing the question and what it might mean. “Yes. He’s fine.”
“I
know he’s successful in his career. What I mean is—is he happy?”
“I
think he’s happy,” Sarah said slowly. “I hope he is, anyway.”
Cyrus
looked at her, almost urgently. “I don’t mean the question to be any sort of
affront against you. I’m very pleased he’s decided to marry and that he’s
chosen you. But he never talks to me.”
“I
know he talks on the phone to you fairly often.” She had no idea how to handle
this conversation. She didn’t want to say anything about Jonathan she shouldn’t—since
she knew he had mixed feelings about his uncle—but Cyrus seemed so inexplicably
needy. She wanted to make him feel better.
“But
he never says anything—anything real . I don’t feel like I know him at
all, and I’ve never been able to reach him. I have tried.” He looked away
again. “I have tried.”
Sarah
swallowed over a thick knot in her throat. There was no reason to feel
emotional, but she did. “Jonathan is just that way. He’s really private, and he
doesn’t open up easily.”
“How
did you do it?” Cyrus shook his head, as if he realized the question was rude
and inappropriate. “I’m sorry. If you have any advice for me on how to best
reach him, I would appreciate it.”
She
didn’t know much about this man, but she knew enough to realize his asking for
help was uncharacteristic and noteworthy. Something must really be bothering
him. From what she’d heard, he’d had a big blow up with Harrison last year,
which they’d just now gotten past. And, until recently, Andrew had a notorious
reputation that probably put him on
He
didn’t reply, and she didn’t know what to say. So they walked in silence until
they rounded another large ornamental hedge and moved into a wooded area. After
a minute, they nearly ran into a stone wall. “Here it is,” Cyrus said. “The
door is just here. The key is hidden, of course.”
“I
can see why it’s secret,” she said when he pushed his way past thick branches
to pull out a loose stone and retrieve a key. “I never would have found this on
my own.”
When
he opened the creaky door, she clapped her hands in uninhibited delight. Unlike
the rest of the gardens, which were formal and immaculate, this one was free
and sprawling in the English style, with flower beds spilling over into each
other, big trees growing in haphazard directions, and stone benches and pots
nearly overgrown with ivy and vines.
“I
love it!” She turned full circle, trying to take in everything. “It’s my
favorite part of the whole estate.”
After
a moment, she shot him a quick glance, not wanting her comment to be
unintentionally insulting. Cyrus didn’t look offended, however. He looked
wistful again.
“Was
this here when you bought the estate?” she asked, searching for innocuous
conversation, since she was feeling strangely sorry for the man beside her and
had no idea what to do with the feeling.
He
nodded. “One of the previous owners built it in the nineteenth century. It was
completely overrun when I bought it. My landscapers wanted to just tear the
walls down, but I wouldn’t let them. It took years to get it back into shape.”
“I’m
so glad you did. I love it.”
She
stood a little awkwardly, unsure of whether he would want to leave or not now
that he’d shown her the garden. She didn’t want to leave yet, but she didn’t
want him stick around just to entertain her.
She
was trying to think of a polite way to suggest that he could leave her on her
own in the garden when he walked over to one of the stone benches. “Would you
like to sit?”
She
walked over, amazed that he didn’t sit until she did. Sarah didn’t think anyone
followed old rules of courtesy anymore.
Cyrus
folded his hands in his lap and stared down at the grass at his feet. “Is
Jonathan doing all right?” he asked, without prelude or segue.
Sarah
blinked, processing the question and what it might mean. “Yes. He’s fine.”
“I
know he’s successful in his career. What I mean is—is he happy?”
“I
think he’s happy,” Sarah said slowly. “I hope he is, anyway.”
Cyrus
looked at her, almost urgently. “I don’t mean the question to be any sort of
affront against you. I’m very pleased he’s decided to marry and that he’s
chosen you. But he never talks to me.”
“I
know he talks on the phone to you fairly often.” She had no idea how to handle
this conversation. She didn’t want to say anything about Jonathan she shouldn’t—since
she knew he had mixed feelings about his uncle—but Cyrus seemed so inexplicably
needy. She wanted to make him feel better.
“But
he never says anything—anything real . I don’t feel like I know him at
all, and I’ve never been able to reach him. I have tried.” He looked away
again. “I have tried.”
Sarah
swallowed over a thick knot in her throat. There was no reason to feel
emotional, but she did. “Jonathan is just that way. He’s really private, and he
doesn’t open up easily.”
“How
did you do it?” Cyrus shook his head, as if he realized the question was rude
and inappropriate. “I’m sorry. If you have any advice for me on how to best
reach him, I would appreciate it.”
She
didn’t know much about this man, but she knew enough to realize his asking for
help was uncharacteristic and noteworthy. Something must really be bothering
him. From what she’d heard, he’d had a big blow up with Harrison last year,
which they’d just now gotten past. And, until recently, Andrew had a notorious
reputation that probably put him on
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