Whispers Of The Heart. Ruth Scofield
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fears, and more recently, given Spring her promise that she wouldn’t become a recluse.
Spring worried about her far too much, and in truth, Autumn had to force herself to appear in total control of things before Spring would consent to go. But at twenty-three, Autumn felt it way past time. Not only was it something she felt compelled to do—learn to live alone, efficiently self-contained in spite of her disability—but Spring had to feel free enough to lead her own life. Autumn couldn’t remain a protected child forever, too fearful and too needy of her sister’s confidence.
Now they each had their chance.
She still missed Uncle William, though. Without ever having discussed it, she knew her sister did as well. He’d been their staunchest anchor since their earliest memories. His death nearly four months ago still left her sorrowful. But the money he’d left them had come with instructions to use it to fulfill their dreams.
Lifting her gaze, she studied some far-off clouds. The weather was changing. For both she and Spring, life had changed, and would again, now. But while Autumn was perfectly content to stay in her home environment, Spring wanted to continue her studies in costume clothing design in New York or Paris or Italy. Not only could Autumn not allow Spring to dawdle another year, not even one last month on her account, she’d had to positively push her sister to cut the ties. Being twins didn’t mean they had to live as though joined at the hip, for heaven’s sake.
Tonight would be her reality. Being alone, living alone. The feat wasn’t exactly daunting, but she’d never done so before and thought it a great test of courage. Yet other people lived alone with disabilities, she reminded herself, and surely she could, too.
Shaking off her pensive mood, she moved about the huge loft room, making mental notes of things to do. Touching piece by piece the old living room furniture she’d brought from Uncle William’s house, she felt pleased with how perfect it looked arranged around the new, white, handcrafted wool rug to form her sitting room.
Turning slowly, she stepped around the open-ended, angled corner wall that gave her bedroom some form and privacy. Her white iron bed sat on a raised platform, semienclosed by sheer drapes. A dreamer’s bedroom, to be sure, romantic and soft, with high unadorned windows.
She passed through the other opening to wander back into the main room. The opposite corner held her small kitchen replete with shining new appliances. A small table for only two sat against one large bank of windows; she’d never need dining space for a larger crowd, she’d told the builder. Her entertainment plans extended no further than an occasional visit from a school chum and Spring’s trips home.
A full third of the space lay disorganized and incomplete. This northeast corner would become her studio. Autumn gazed with mixed emotion at the stacks of packed art materials. Eager to delve into them, she yet hesitated. The shelves still needed to be installed. She could wait until they were done.
After that, she would have no excuse to leave it undone any longer; she’d be truly settled. This would be home, there’d be no going back to the safety of the suburban house she’d shared with her sister and uncle, even in her thoughts. She’d have to cook meals alone, eat alone, go out alone, start painting on her own. Without interruption, yes, but without conversation, without exchange of thoughts or plans or—
A loud rapping sounded like sudden thunder. Autumn jumped and whirled, her heart beating rapidly. It came again, and she realized someone was at her door. The builder had bookshelves still to install; it must be he. Taking a deep breath, she went to answer it.
Someone besides the carpenter stood there. She remembered him, of course. How could she not? The man who’d looked at this space when she first came to see it. His tall, solid body suggested he might be good model material, she recalled thinking that day. She’d watched from lowered lids as he’d sauntered into the open room, speculation in his interested ginger-brown eyes as his gaze went from Spring to her.
That ginger-brown gaze had remained on her for a very long time, sending her a little buzz along with it. She’d felt herself respond in spite of herself.
Although a bit disconcerted at the time, Autumn wasn’t really uncomfortable. She merely thought him puzzling. Interesting. Usually men found her sister the more attractive of the two.
Autumn didn’t date much. Rarely alone. Not at all, recently.
His gaze still shone like crystallized ginger.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she found her toes curling under. She should have put on her shoes!
Uncle William used to scold Spring and her for their penchant to throw off their footwear at every chance, with a caution of “you are not flower children” hanging over their heads.
Now she could only think of how childish she must appear as Brent’s gaze swept over her.
“Yes?” she said.
“Hello, I’m Brent Hyatt, remember?” he answered with a confident, inviting smile. A wide smile that dominated and charmed, although his features weren’t classically handsome. “We met a few weeks back when we both looked at this place at the same time.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well, I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” He proffered a handwoven basket filled with kiwis, strawberries and spring daffodils. “I’ve watched the plumbers and carpenters come and go from across the street. I’ve just moved into my new offices myself, you know. I’m not all settled yet, either, but I thought if you need someone to give you a hand with anything…”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, taking the basket “but I think all the heavy work is done.”
“Okay. Well, here’s my new business card, just in case. Please feel free to give me a call if there’s anything I can do for you. I usually hang around until six or thereabouts on most business days.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s some nice places to eat down the block. Would you like to come out for a cup of coffee or a soda?”
“Thank you again, but…no…I have so much to do.”
“All right. Maybe another time more convenient.”
His ready smile tilted, giving his features that unusual charm. Autumn thought her heart tilted just a bit along with it. Perhaps she should accept. Genuine friendship was a precious commodity, according to Uncle William.
He turned as the elevator hummed downward. Now he’d have to wait for it to return.
“Remember, I’m right across the street. Hyatt Architectural Services.”
“Yes, I’ll remember.” She lifted his card, waving it to let him know she’d keep it.
“I’m even around some Saturdays,” he said as the elevator returned and the doors opened.
Two men, one slight of build and one huge, husky, blond giant stepped off, each carrying a tool chest. Behind them, a dolly held a stack of lumber, precut and stained.
“Hello, Josh. Sam.” Brent greeted them as old acquaintances. “What are you two doing up here in the old center of town?”
“Hiya, Brent,” the husky giant spoke. “Well, you know how it is. We go where the work is. Heard you were moving your offices. You coming into this building?”
“I’m across the street. You men still working for Lenny?”
“Yeah, he’s got us doing the go-backs on all the finishing work,” Josh, the slight, dark-headed one said with some disgust. “You still doing your house renovation?”
“No, it’s complete. Got a couple of new projects I’m doing.”
Autumn cleared her throat. Couldn’t these men chew the rag another time? All she wanted were her bookshelves. She’d already waited all day for them to arrive. Well, most of the afternoon, anyway.
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