His father’s eyes misted and he blinked rapidly. One corner of his mouth raised and quivered. “Your mother.”
Oliver glanced toward the floor and then back up. “I miss her, too.”
“I want that for you, also. To find someone who will steal your heart and be your soul mate. Is it possible there is anyone…?”
Warmth rushed to Oliver’s face. Lucy, smiling. Laughing. Delighting in learning new facts about the birds. Dark brown eyes and curly dark hair. “I… have met a woman. A wonderful, sweet woman, who loves the birds, as well.”
“So you’ve met her at the Sanctuary, then?”
He nodded.
“And what does she say about your…?” Father waved his hand at Oliver’s clothing, even though he’d already changed. The implication was there. What does this woman think about your slovenly appearance?
“She thinks I just work there.”
“The woman doesn’t know who you are?”
“I don’t…” Heat encompassed his face and neck. How was he to gently explain to Father why he chose not to use the name Shipley?
“You don’t… what?”
He’d not disclosed to his father that he used his mother’s name instead. And for this reason. He would be angry. But things being what they were, his father’s health and time being apparently short, there wouldn’t be time to wait. Much as it would pain Oliver, his father needed to hear it from him. Before someone else had a chance to tell him. It would be horrible if some man on the street gave an innocent, “By the way, saw your son at the Sanctuary. Did you know he’s using an alias?”
Oliver lowered his head. “I’ve been telling people who’ve inquired that my name is… Oliver Barrow.”
“Your mother’s maiden name? Am I to understand you’re ashamed of my name?” His hands fisted against the arms of his chair.
“No. Of course not.”
“Then why would a son of mine do something so asinine?”
Oliver shrugged. “Aside from me not wanting my peers to know what I’m up to, it goes along with you wanting me to find my soul mate. How can I hope to find the right one, the woman who will love me for me instead of the bulk of wealth and this large estate that I could provide? Surely you haven’t forgotten the many young, simpering women who vowed to marry me on the spot. They did not really know me. If not for what they could grasp with greedy hands, why else would they be so anxious to get me to the altar? If you truly desire for me to have what you had with Mother, you’ll try to understand my reasons.”
For several seconds, silence. His father blinked and swallowed. “I think I do understand. I wish it didn’t have to be that way. That you could be who you want to be and who you are at the same time.”
“It’s not that I don’t—”
“I’m not condemning you. It is true that young ladies do seem greedy sometimes. Much to my dismay.” He took a deep breath and let it out, this time producing a frightening rattle.
Oliver knelt on the floor at his father’s knee and took the older man’s hand in his. His cold, clammy skin was alarming. “Thank you for understanding. I think this is the only way I will truly know for sure if she cares for me instead of who I am. I… need to be sure.”
A tear traveled down his father’s ruddy cheek and dripped from his chin to his shirtfront. “I wish for you only the best, because I… love you.”
“And I, you, Father. And I, you.”
Chapter Eight
A light breeze blew through the garden, stirring the leaves of the red rose bushes and those of the large oak tree on the other side of the walking path. Sunshine, broken by thick tree branches, produced dappled light, dancing with its bright spots across Lucy’s dress and boots.
Gerald, her marmalade cat, purred and wound around Lucy’s legs. Then he stopped and sat on his haunches, studying her with large eyes as if searching her mind and soul for her deepest, most thought-provoking secrets. It brought to mind being scrutinized by a physician, eyes roaming every inch, seeking something out of the ordinary.
Lucy sat on her mother’s favorite bench, just beneath the maple tree her father had had planted for her mother shortly after Lucy was born. The tree had grown quite tall in the whole of Lucy’s years, now providing shelter, shade, and homes for nesting birds.
Now that Lucy had spent time at the Sanctuary learning about some of the birds, she knew that the newly hatched babies in the nest above her were sparrows. And the talkative tiny ones flittering about the roses were finches. She hadn’t seen any owls on the property, but that didn’t stop her from looking. Wouldn’t it be amusing to discover a sleeping long-eared owl in her very own tree?
She tilted her head back against the bench and studied the tree above her. The mother sparrow fed her chirping babies one at a time, their small mouths open wide, waiting for dinner. Oh, how she missed her own mother. The tree brought back pleasant memories of time spent together beneath it, of talks and picnics and playing with Gerald’s predecessor, his mother Gertrude. But sadness came along as well. It reminded her of her mother’s illness, the pain she'd suffered before she died. Lucy’s father’s grief and loss, as well as her own.
Now, when Lucy had questions about life… love… her feelings for Oliver, it would have helped to have her mother’s advice and guidance. It seemed now that she was older, more and more questions crowded into her mind at every turn. Events that would have included her mother, important events, would be forever tarnished. Courtship. Marriage. Children.
And Lucy couldn’t imagine in a world of lifetimes, confiding these confusing feelings to her father.
No, never.
He’d frown at her and tell her she was absurd for even thinking such thoughts, much less asking him for advice about them. Then he’d shoo her away so he could get back to his work. And remind her to be a good girl. Sometimes, no, more than sometimes, he hurt her feelings. Why must he be so brusque? Of course he could never have the sensitive nature as a woman would have, but must he be so impatient and ill-tempered with her at times?
Thank goodness Lucy had Anna to lend a sympathetic ear. They had whispered their hopes and secret longings about the new men they’d met, of course. But despite her age, Anna was as much a novice in the ways of love as was Lucy.
Both innocent.
Inexperienced in the pursuit of relationships and romance.
Two babes in the woods.
What to do? It seemed she was on her own as to her feelings for Oliver. A man of great warmth, humor, and intelligence. Soft brown eyes and gentle hands. A love for birds and nature and all that those entailed, even the less appealing items, such as muddy paths and smelly pond water. All because he longed to be a part of the world where the birds lived.
But he possessed no wealth. No income deemed worthy by which to care for Lucy.
Which her father would detest.
Besides that, Father seemed determined that she would marry Conrad anyway.
Sigh.
No matter what came of her time spent with Oliver, Lucy would not shy away from him. In fact, she couldn’t stop thinking of the man. Deep dimple. Broad shoulders and strong arms. More than that, though. It was his heart. His very living soul that called her, drew her closer, enveloped her in warmth and… love.
Yes love. Be it near impossible to comprehend, she had fallen in love with someone she barely knew. If someone else had told Lucy the same had happened to her, she’d call them foolish and preposterous. That she hadn’t an ounce of common sense about her.
And yet wasn’t that what she had become? Did that fact matter to her? No. Not a whit. She’d never experienced feelings like this before, and she didn’t want to give them up. Rather, she intended to embrace them with her whole heart.
And it was all because of one Oliver Barrow.
She was now the one caught in the strong grasp of love’s tempting pull, and she had not the wherewithal to abstain. Its strong grip held her tight, pulling her in, drawing her nearer and nearer. And she ha
d no inclination to put up a struggle. Something wonderful, magical was happening to her. Why wouldn’t she want to discover what it was about?
Lucy glanced down. Her cat still sat at her feet, unblinking, studying her as if she were a specimen of some sort. Perhaps it was a good thing that he couldn’t read her thoughts at present. She patted the bench seat. “Come and see me, Gerald.”
Merrow.
The cat’s caramel eyes widened as his whiskers twitched. Strong hind legs pushed from the ground, propelling his compact furry body through the air and onto the bench. He landed squarely on all four paws at the same time. Dancing in place, he kneaded the bench, his front paws lifting up and down. Up and down. Purring louder, he tapped her lap with his paw. Twice.
A smile played across Lucy’s mouth. “Yes, you may.” The trick she’d taught him as a kitten still amused her. He’d been a pudgy ball, then, so full of energy and mischief, always wanting to play or learn something new.
Gerald climbed onto her lap and turned in a circle. Once. Twice. Thrice. Always three times. Never varying. As if her cat could count. And she had not taught him that.
“But you are a smart fellow, aren’t you, darling?”
The cat squinted and sighed before curling in a contented ball, tucking his pink nose beneath his fluffy tail. Lucy stroked his soft fur, running her fingers through the orange-tipped coat. “What do you think, Gerald? Should I continue to visit the Bird Sanctuary? Continue my acquaintance with Oliver?”
He purred.
She chuckled. “I should have known you’d agree with me. Since you are my best friend. Best friends stick together, do they not? Or is it the mention of birds that stirs you so?”
The cat, with one eye open, did something that could only be described as smile. Both sides of his mouth curved up beneath pudgy cheeks, white whiskers pointing straight out to the sides of his round face.
“Ah, I see the truth now, Gerald. The thought of multitudes of birds just out of reach of your furry little paws causes your delight, hmm? Is that what takes place in your dreams?”
He rolled on his back, presenting his round little tummy for a rub.
“I suppose I have no choice but to oblige you, then.”
Gerald wrapped all four paws around her hand, extending his needle-sharp claws. Just a little, just enough to show Lucy who was in charge of the situation. But then, she’d never had any doubt that he ruled the house.
Quite the demanding little feline, that one.
Laughing, she rubbed her fingers back and forth, back and forth, creating soft rivers of fur going in all directions. Her cat closed his eyes. The rumble from his chest sounded like thunder, loud and long.
“Let it never be said that I shirked my duty to you, Sir Gerald. I live to serve you, of course. I’m sure you think that’s my entire reason for being.”
A rustle came from behind the rose trellis. Boots tapped along the path. Anna appeared. All smiles. A tint of attractive pink colored her cheeks. Lucy shook her head. Her maid was definitely in love, bless her. How wonderful for her to have found love and contentment at her age.
At any age.
“Come sit with me, Anna.”
She stepped across the path toward the bench. “I see Gerald found you. He was wailing all over the house looking for you, like his little world had ended and you were the only one he could talk to about it.”
“My tiny shadow always finds me eventually. It’s as if when he can’t see me, he must find me to assure himself I’m not into mischief. But we know who’s the true mischief-maker, don’t we, Gerald?” More fur-rubbing produced even louder purrs.
The bench shifted as Anna sat.
Lucy turned toward her. “You’ve a flush.”
Anna waved her hand in front of her face, but didn’t look directly at Lucy. “Do I?”
“You’ve developed an affection for Mr. Warner, haven’t you?”
A shrug of the shoulders. A sigh. Finally, a nod.
“I’m so happy for you, Anna.”
“Truly?” She raised her head and peered at Lucy, her eyes bright.
Lucy nodded. “Of course.”
“I know it’s sudden. But…” She sighed.
“Yes. Sudden. But… I do understand.”
“You’ve a flush, too, dear.”
Lucy glanced down at Gerald, suddenly intent upon making sure she petted his fur in the proper direction. “Must be the heat. It’s quite humid today.”
“Nonsense. I’ve known you since you were a little girl. You can’t fool me, Lucy Ashbrook. You’ve strong feelings for Mr. Barrow.”
A shrug. A sigh. A nod.
“Isn’t it something that we both found someone for whom we have strong feelings? And to have found them at the same time and place?”
“It does seem rather incredible, does it not? And that they are acquainted with each other and appear to be close.”
“I never thought it could happen to me, Lucy.” She clasped her hands in her lap.
“Why ever not?”
“I’m certainly past… way past the age when most women…”
“But Mr. Warner is close to your age, isn’t he?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“And would you really want to be attracted to someone, say of eighty years?”
Anna giggled and shook her head, the ribbon on her hat gliding back and forth.
“Or someone, perhaps, of no more than twenty years?”
She waved a hand at Lucy. “Oh, heavens no.”
“So you see, it’s perfect just the way it’s happened, then.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Lucy laughed. “So I am right for once? Since I’m always hearing it's you who is always in the right?”
Anna smiled and tapped Lucy’s hand. “Well aren’t we just a pair, you and I, dear girl?”
“But a pair of what? That’s the question.” Lucy raised her eyebrows “Fools? Dreamers? Silly-hearts?”
She shook her head. “Love birds. Definitely love birds.”
“Perhaps that’s the reason we enjoy the Bird Sanctuary so, to be near other birds.”
“Oh, that’s not the reason. Not at all.”
They giggled like two little girls in their first years playing in the nursery together. Light. Comfort. Hope. Love.
There was that word again.
Love.
Chapter Nine
“That crazy goose is still wearing my hat.”
Anna leaned toward Lucy, the edge of her hat brushing against Lucy’s. “Well you must admit, dear, it is a lovely shade of yellow.”
“It’s white.” Poor woman. Forever mistaken on any given day about any given color.
“Pardon? Oh. Well. Nevertheless, the goose has good taste in attire.”
A smile tugged at Lucy’s lips. “Indeed. But it was one of my favorites. It’s as if the goose knew that and absconded with it just for spite.”
“I’m sure if you batted your lashes at Mr. Barrow, he’d give the hat-rescue another go.”
Lucy lightly smacked Anna’s hand. “Anna. I wouldn’t do that.” She raised one corner of her lips. “Well, perhaps I would, but… in any case, I shouldn’t think it pleasant to wear a hat after it’s been paraded around the pond by a large grey bird.”
“I see your point.” She grimaced. “You might sprout feathers.”
“And wouldn’t that be a sight.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger. Although…”
Anna raised both eyebrows. “Yes?”
“If I were a bird…”
“Ah. You’d be even more attractive to a certain Sanctuary worker, hmm?”
Laughter bubbled up from Lucy’s throat. “Yes. I think I might at that.”
“I think you are already very attractive to the aforementioned worker.”
Lucy shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“You ladies seem to be in high spirits this morning.” Mr. Warner’s deep voice startled them.
“Oh, Richard.” Anna
’s breath came in quick little puffs. She waved her hand in front of her reddened face.
Good heavens, the poor woman looked as if she might swoon at any moment. Should Lucy try to find some smelling salts? She glanced at Mr. Warner, who was looking intently at Anna with a great big grin on his face. On second thought, if Anna swooned, surely Mr. Warner might be just as happy to catch her himself.
He smiled. “Would you care to sit with me for a while… Anna?” A full blush colored his cheeks. They resembled twin ripe tomatoes.
Lucy smiled. The older pair was so sweet together. They truly did seem a match, even though they’d just met. “Yes, please, do go ahead.”
Anna glanced at Lucy, but she was already tugging Mr. Warner in the opposite direction. “Are you certain, dear?”
“Yes. Quite certain.” Lucy bit her lip. If Anna tugged on Mr. Warner’s hand any harder, they’d both take a tumble down the nearby hill and then they might have a worry about broken bones. “I’m… I’ll find something with which to entertain myself. Drawing, perhaps.” She patted her reticule.
Mr. Warner and Anna were several yards away before she’d finished her sentence. They certainly hadn’t wasted any time finding a place to be alone. Which sounded like a fine idea to Lucy, too, if a certain Sanctuary worker happened to be around.
Lucy frowned. Is Mr. Barrow not here at present? He had always been there before during her visits. At least, since they’d begun their acquaintance. She had no idea how long he might have worked there before she started coming to sketch the birds.
How disappointing if she was not to see him today. Reaching into her reticule, she retrieved her pencil and paper. Having finished her nuthatch, she’d started sketching the dastardly goose, sans hat. If she’d drawn the bird still wearing it, no one would believe it was real.
The goose’s bill and neck formed on her paper. Turning the pencil with the tip on its side, Lucy shaded in the feathers of the face to make them appear softer. Feathers on the lower body would be more defined, with bolder lines outlining each one. Even though she wouldn’t draw the hat, the goose would most definitely have a gleam to the eye. Something must be done to convey the mischievousness of the bird.
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