Page 11 of Bryce

Pictures had beensnapped and splashed on the front pages of tabloids. His life wasdissected, rumors circulated and speculations the order of the day.If they could not find anything, they would make something up. Hecould not step out for a cup of coffee, without being photographed.

It had becomefrustrating and exhausting. His agent had reminded him that it waswhat he signed up for.

The only escape hehad found was in the solace of places like this, where anonymityafforded him a semblance of normalcy. Bryce had learned to cherishthese moments, however fleeting they might be.

He was here at hisassistant’s discretion, who had assured him that the inn was ahaven far removed from the chaos of his public life. He trusted theman’s judgment implicitly, and so far, it seemed like a wisedecision.

Bryce's thoughtsdrifted to his hostess. He wondered what kind of person she was,managing such a serene establishment. He imagined her to be someonewho valued peace and quiet, just as he did. Perhaps they shared somecommon ground.

For now, he wascontent to let the garden's tranquility wash over him, a welcomerespite from the unceasing demands of fame.

After a while, Brycerose and made his way back inside, feeling rejuvenated by his timeoutdoors. The inn's warm ambiance welcomed him as he wandered throughthe hallways, each corner whispering tales of history and care.

He found himselfdrawn to the library, where rows of books beckoned invitingly. Takinga seat in a plush armchair, he selected a novel from the shelf andsettled in, losing himself in the world of fiction, where he could beanyone but himself.

*****

“Is he alreadyin his suite?”

“I think he washeaded there. He took a walk out in the gardens and was out there fora while.” Jessica took the bags from her. “Get off yourfeet and have something to eat.”

“I ate at Sandra’sand had pastries shoved at me from every direction.” She toldher friend with a laugh. “I am officially full.”

“Some teathen?”

“I have had myfill of the brew.” She sat at the small dining table and tookoff her boots. “Sandra insisted on me keeping her company andkept the cups filled.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“You’retired.”

“Exhausted!”She agreed. “I will just sit a while and then go on up. Are yousure our guest is settled in?”

“He is. I amgoing to put away these and then head on home. I have plans to put myfeet up and watch some black and white.”

“I think I amgoing straight to bed after you’re gone. There is the fairtomorrow followed by the concert.”

“We cannot missany of it.”

*****

He had fallen asleep.His eyes flickered open to a darkened room with just the glow of themoon sliding through the emerald, green drapes. When he had taken offhis boots and stretched out on the sofa, he had no idea.

And marveled that hehad been so contented and relaxed, sleep had just claimed him. Thebook he had been reading was open on his chest and slid to thehardwood floor as he sat up suddenly.

It took a few minutesfor his eyes to adjust to the shadows. Swinging his legs off thecushions, he stretched languidly and glanced at his watch, surprisedto see that it was not quite 9.00 pm. Rubbing his hands over hisface, he was about to rise, when he heard a sound outside the doorbefore it was pushed open.

The light streamingfrom the hallway highlighted her clearly and he felt the shock andawareness trembling through his entire body. He had felt somethingwhen he heard the name and never dreamed that it was the same person.

He knew her. GoodGod! It was Zahra, his Zahra from his teenage year. His first.Sensations slammed inside him, and he felt the memories cramminginside him, leaving him dizzy.

He rose unsteadily,hands trembling. She did not know it was him yet, of course.

“Zahra.”

The deep voice hadher switching on the light. As soon as it flooded the room and shesaw clearly who it was, she just stood there, staring. One hand wentto her bosom, and she felt the breath whooshing out of her.

She had not picked upon it. Bryce Whitlock was here in her inn. Her first love, the boywho had left without a word and never reached out to her again, washere in her inn. It was bizarre, surely something she washallucinating about.

He started forward,stopping when she held out a hand as if to ward him off.

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