Lonely In Longtree by Jill Stengl Page B

Monte remained focused on his nieces and nephews.
    Evening light lingered over the lake. “Shall we stroll down to the shore, or would you prefer an actual walk?” Mr. Stowell asked. “The dragonflies are out in vast numbers tonight to protect us from mosquitoes.”
    â€œHow thoughtful of them,” Marva said with a smile. “I think I should like to take some exercise after that meal.”
    â€œAs you wish.” He offered his arm, and Marva looped her hand through the crook of his elbow. They fell into step, following the wagon track away from the lake.
    â€œTell me about yourself, Miss Obermeier. Why has such a lovely woman never married? Or am I too bold?” His voice sounded tight with nerves.
    â€œThe answer is simple enough. The right man has never asked me.” Marva felt calm and composed. “Why are you unmarried, Mr. Stowell?”
    â€œI was married once.”
    â€œDid your wife pass?”
    A pause. “Yes, she is dead.” His tone discouraged further questions, which seemed unfair to Marva.
    â€œI’m sorry. How long has it been?” Hearing a high-pitched whine, she waved at her ear.
    â€œA few years. Do you wish to marry, Miss Obermeier, or do you intend to remain single?”
    Irritation prickled. “I would marry if the right opportunity arose.” She gazed up at his taut profile. “Do you ever read the Longtree Enquirer, Mr. Stowell?”
    He gave her a puzzled look. “The what?”
    â€œIt is our local newspaper. Your lodge advertises in it, which is how our group came to be here. I merely wondered if you ever read the paper.” Now a fly buzzed into her face; she swatted it away.
    He looked thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, yes, I believe I have seen a copy lying around the lodge upon occasion.”
    She decided to take the plunge. “Have you ever written a personal note to the Longtree Enquirer, sir? In answer to an advertisement or some such thing?”
    â€œI have not.” He licked his lips and looked uncomfortable. “Might I inquire as to where these questions lead, Miss Obermeier?”
    â€œI wish to locate a person who has been communicating with me through the newspaper; that is all. It is unimportant, Mr. Stowell.”
    Now that she knew he bore no connection to “Lucky in Lakeland,” Marva was eager to return to the lodge and escape his company. “Ooh, the insects are dreadful this evening.” She slapped her arm, and her hand felt sticky with her own blood. “I do not think the dragonflies are doing their job properly after all.”
    â€œPerhaps if we strolled down beside the water where there is a breeze—”
    â€œI think we had better take cover, Mr. Stowell, but thank you anyway.” Her pace nearly doubled on the way back.
    His face revealed disappointment when she bade him farewell at the lodge’s front door. “Such a pleasant stroll. Thank you again.”
    Once back in the small suite she shared with her parents, she picked up a certain book from her father’s bedside table and found her place. The lurid cover art no longer amused her; she was entirely engrossed in the adventurous, slightly romantic tale of the Wild West. She read the book only when her parents were not around. There was no point in advertising her foolish interest in its author.
    Sometime later, a loon’s call startled her back to reality. The bird sounded close. Although she knew quite well that she would not see it from the window, she rose to pull aside the curtain.
    A moonlit path shimmered on the lake, so lovely that tears pooled in Marva’s eyes at the sight. Such a night was meant for lovers. But God had given it to her, as well, and she would not let His gift go to waste.
    â§
    Monte scribbled out a new scene while listening for his partner’s return, but his gaze kept returning to the clock. Focusing with an effort, he shuffled through his pages.