Whispers Of The Heart. Ruth Scofield

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      “Oh, I don’t want to bother you. I can take care of it on my own, thanks.” She straightened her spine. “I’ll, uh, make two trips.”

      “Come on, it won’t take a minute,” he insisted, grabbing two bags. “I won’t stay.” He flashed his irrepressible grin. “I promise.”

      “All right.”

      A middle-aged woman came out of the first-floor law offices as they entered the narrow front hall. She didn’t bother to even glance their way. Autumn felt her muscles begin to relax. She had made it through her first outing alone without a problem.

      She had her key ready and put it into her front door carefully. As soon as the lock tumbled, she swung the door wide. Just as carefully, as though on soldier’s marching orders, Brent set the two bags he carried on her kitchen counter and turned to leave. “There you go.”

      “Thanks,” she called toward his retreating back. “Thanks a lot, Brent. I appreciate your help.”

      “You’re very welcome, Autumn.” He continued his route toward the door and elevator. “See you around.”

      He’d been very kind, and suddenly, she was loath to see him leave. His was a friendly face, after all.

      “Um, a moment?” She ran after him into the hall. “I just wondered…what happened with Sam and his wife? Was the baby all right?”

      Brent’s smile broke out in a sunny reflection of joy. “Oh, yeah, that turned out just fine. Touch-and-go for a little while, though. Mother and baby girl Emily are doing fine now. Ashley went home yesterday, and the baby will most likely go home next week, Sam said.”

      “Oh, I am so glad. Please tell Sam I’m happy to hear of his good fortune.”

      “Blessings, indeed. I’ll tell him.”

      “Thanks again.”

      “You’re welcome. Better not leave your car where it is for too long though. There’s a spring concert or something at the market this weekend and the Friday lunch crowd will be looking for street parking. It’ll be safer in your parking space.”

      “Yes, I’ll come down and move it as soon as I put away the food that needs refrigeration.”

      “See you around,” Brent said again, stepping into the elevator.

      Autumn put away her groceries, made herself a cup of tea, and went to sit on the high stool she’d placed beneath her favorite window. Time to allow a bit of triumph to flow, she mused. The early-morning crowds hadn’t been so terrible to face, in retrospect, and now that it was out of the way, she must face her next hurdle. Additional shopping.

      There was nowhere to set her cup, and she balanced it on her knee. She’d found herself in this spot so often, to think or talk to Spring on the phone, and now she decided it needed more than a stool. She had to do something else, here. Place a bench beneath the window or a more comfortable chair beside it. With a small table to hold her teacup and telephone.

      Glancing around her apartment, she let her gaze fall on the many boxes that remained unpacked for lack of a ladder to reach the tallest supply shelves. A building supply store, that’s what she needed.

      Catalogs would give her the items she needed, too. Tempting. Too tempting. She could easily make a phone order and have things delivered.

      But that was an excuse not to leave her house. She’d promised Spring she wouldn’t allow that to happen—become a total recluse, just because crowds frightened her. And Spring would know. She always did, just as she knew when Spring needed her.

      Well, it could wait for tomorrow. She’d had just about enough triumph for one day.

      Autumn woke early the next morning, determined to finish the painting of tulips she’d started yesterday afternoon, using the pot she’d bought at the store as a model. The bright blooms cheered her, and replaced the fading jonquils that Brent had given her.

      That’s one thing she needed, she decided, pouring herself a glass of milk. She needed more flowers to adorn the apartment. More bright colors.

      The open-air market was one of the enticements to this neighborhood, she’d told Spring. She reminded herself of that now. After yesterday’s success, it would be an excellent time to shop. This morning, before the market filled up. She’d find spring flowers in plenty there, and all the fresh fruit and veggies she’d passed by yesterday in favor of getting the staples.

      Before she could give herself time to become anxious, she yanked on her favorite faded green sweats and left her building. She sprinted the two and a half blocks to the marketplace, then slowed as she took in the scene, fighting the clutch in her stomach.

      True to her hopes, she found some stalls already open for the morning, but only a few shoppers. She could handle this. It wouldn’t be bad at all. She even smiled at the vendors, the ones with the outside tables, while making her choices, careful to buy only what she could carry. She tried not to rush, telling herself to slow down long enough to savor the experience.

      One of the stalls had freshly baked bread and rolls. She paused. The fragrance made her mouth water, and she couldn’t resist them.

      Now she could go home. She’d taken this expedition in stride.

      Leaving the growing bustle of the market, she resisted breaking into a run by sheer determination. By the time she turned her corner, putting the market completely out of sight, she could slow to a stroll.

      She wouldn’t admit to the amount of relief she felt. Or the very slight shaking of her knees.

      The fragrance of the rolls drifted with enticing demand. Like an eager child, she pulled out a breakfast sweet roll, its center filled with cream cheese and pineapple, and took a bite. She still had her mouth full when she heard Brent’s greeting.

      “Good morning, Autumn. Nice morning, isn’t it?”

      He stood beside his red sedan, parked in front of his building. He wore jeans today, and a brown T-shirt that matched his eyes.

      She nodded and swallowed. “Mm, yes, it’s a lovely morning. I’ve been to the market already,” she couldn’t resist telling him, a childish pride breaking through her usual shyness. Though she knew he had no idea of her disability, it was nice to share this bit of victory anyway. She could hardly wait to tell Spring she’d shopped two days in a row, with people all around her. She wouldn’t tell her about how badly her knees shook.

      “Nice time for a walk,” he commented.

      Brent watched the quick, lovely smile fade into uncertainty, her lashes dropping to hide her thoughts. He wondered what it would take to keep her talking. He’d watched her come up the hill from the market, having spied her before he pulled into their street. She’d taken long strides at first, as though in a great hurry, then slowed to a stroll as she turned the corner. As if she now felt safe. She hadn’t seemed aware of him until he spoke.

      “Yes, it is,” she conceded. Already, she wanted to retreat—he saw it in her eyes.

      What was it? What was she afraid of? Why did she so often withdraw, as though she didn’t want him to get too friendly? Was she really СКАЧАТЬ