Virginia Gone by Vickie Saine Page B

her hands along his arm, smiling.  He was strong and steady and it felt good to have him to lean on. “I’m glad you’re here.”
     
     “Me too,” he returned with a kiss.
     
     “I’m ready. Let’s go,” she said.
     
     As they turned to leave Virginia noticed movement over by a large pin oak, her stomach dropped. She froze mid-step, her body going ridged. There, leaning against the trunk of the tree was Ava, Virginia’s childhood friend. Ava waved, with a silly little girl smile plastered her face.
     
     Riley followed the direction of Virginia’s gaze. He frowned. The muscles in his jaw tensed.  “What is it? Do you see something?”
     
     She gasped, “No, of course not! Are you always going to think the worst? Am I not allowed to look at a tree?”
     
     The corner of his mouth rose. His hands went up in surrender. “Yes, you may look at a tree.” He pulled her to him. Their lips barely touched. “I love you Virginia Benet.”
     
     “I love you too,” she said.