Whispers Of The Heart. Ruth Scofield

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СКАЧАТЬ he thought he might have, since his office desk faced the street window and he often found himself watching the traffic.

      Perhaps the truth was more basic than that. Simply put, she just might not be interested in him.

      He supposed it could be that, though he’d seldom met a woman who turned him down flat. On the whole, he liked women, even liked them a lot, though it had been a very long time since he’d met a woman who interested him in any personal way. This one did. Why, he hadn’t yet figured out.

      Perhaps he was at last ready to find a new woman to love.

      Other than casual, friendly dates, he’d lived without a woman in his life, except his mother, since that awful day Felice smashed her car and herself into nothing. Three and a half years ago, next week.

      Since then, he’d contented himself in his faith, work and family, and a renewed interest in community service. That was why he’d moved his offices downtown. He wanted to be a big part of the city’s urban renewal.

      “Daddy, can I get on your computer now?”

      About to turn away, Autumn’s gaze dropped to the small boy who stepped from his father’s shadow. About four, she guessed, the child had the same ginger-colored bright-eyed gaze as Brent.

      “This is my son, Tim,” Brent said. “Timmy, this is Miss Barbour.”

      The boy stared at her in curiosity for a long moment, then smiled. “You have icing on your mouth.”

      “I do?”

      “Uh-huh. Have a tissue?”

      “Oh, yes, I suppose I do.” She smiled at the boy and fished in her pocket for one. “I just bought some wonderful baked goods down at the market and had to have a sweet roll right away. They’re the best when they’re so fresh, you know.” She thrust the bag toward him. “There’s two chocolate donuts in here. Would you like one?”

      Timmy turned to his father. “Can I?”

      “Sure, if you recall your manners.”

      Autumn held her paper bag out farther. The little boy reached in and helped himself, saying his thank you at the same time his mouth took a huge bite. She offered the bag toward Brent.

      “Thanks, think I will. We didn’t take time for breakfast this morning. Say, I have about an hour’s work to take care of here, then Tim and I are going to find a real all-American breakfast. Want to come along?”

      “Oh, no…” Autumn thought it time for her to take her leave, sidling toward her door. “Thank you for inviting me, though. I, um, have a project I’m eager to finish.”

      “Did you get all your boxes put away?”

      “Not exactly. I have to find a ladder.”

      “Ah. I’d loan you one, but I haven’t any here at the office.”

      “That’s all right. I need to buy one, I guess. You were right when you said I’d never reach the top third of my shelves without one.”

      “If you’re going out today, I could help you pick it out and carry it home for you. Those things get pretty heavy.”

      “They do? Well,” she glanced down the hill toward the market area. The current festival, a spring flower show, she thought, was getting under way with incoming trucks and cars. Saturdays were busy everywhere merchandise was sold. Saturdays spelled crowds. No, she couldn’t go out again today.

      “I don’t think I’ll go today. Perhaps I can get a store to deliver one.”

      “If you wish, I can get Sam and Josh to pick up one for you and deliver it right to your door. They’re coming this way one day next week.”

      “Oh. Why, that would…that would be very helpful, thank you. Yes, please. I’ll certainly pay them for their time.”

      “Let’s worry about that later, shall we? Sam and Josh are good buddies.”

      “Daddy, can I get a drink of water?”

      Brent and Autumn glanced at the child at the same time. His mouth smeared with chocolate, he looked like a clown.

      “Whoa, there, Timmy pal,” Brent said, laughing. “You need a wash along with that drink.”

      Autumn felt her own mouth tug into a smile. “Now you need the tissues,” she said, offering one from her pocket. “I’ll bet your mom would scold us both.”

      “My mom can’t scold me. She’s in heaven,” Timmy said very casually as he accepted the tissue, swiping at his mouth and upper lip. Smears of chocolate remained on his cheek, on his chin, on his fingers.

      Autumn examined the little boy’s face, then Brent’s. The child couldn’t have known his mother very well. His eyes carried no sorrow, only knowledge of a fact. But Brent’s swift gaze told her he still felt a stab of grief.

      “I didn’t know that,” she offered slowly. “I’m sorry.”

      Brent nodded his acknowledgment of her murmur, then changed the subject.

      “That tissue is never going be enough for the job,” he said with a chuckle. He bent to sweep the boy up to sit on his shoulders, the action making Timmy squeal with delight. “He needs a real wash. But thanks for the try. Guess I’d better take this little guy in and clean him up. I’ll call you when I find out what Sam and Josh’s schedule will be.”

      “Fine. Bye, Timmy. Nice to meet you.”

      “Uh-huh. See you around, Miss Barbour.”

      “You can call me Autumn.” She smiled at the boy.

      “Okay. See you around.”

      Thirty minutes later, Autumn put her favorite music CD on, and a new sheet of paper on her work board and began a sketch. Under her quick hand, a small child evolved, a donut in his hand. Large eyes took the shape of the father’s, and an impish tilt to his mouth indicated he was about to break out into laughter.

      Autumn had painted children only a few times, but she felt pleased at how this one came to life under her hand. The childish glee it brought to mind made her want to laugh along with him.

      After a long while, she stretched and put aside her materials. From the apartment below, she heard a muffled door slam. She glanced at the clock. Almost noon.

      Spring hadn’t called yet this morning, and Autumn’s loneliness crept up unexpectedly, powerful and yearning. She punched in Spring’s temporary number, eager to hear her sister’s voice, but she heard only an answering machine. She left a brief message.

      From her south window, slightly opened to catch the air, strains of country music drifted up from the market square. She didn’t need to see any of it to imagine the crush.

      Even the imagining caused her a queasy stomach.

      Quickly, she banished the thought from her mind. She put an exercise disk into her player, and followed the instructions with vigor.

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