Page 15 of Spring Showers

“What’s the story with all the docks, though? Was this some sort of lake or something?” Daisy asked.

Thandie was glad that America had gotten her up to speed on the history of the area. She answered confidently, “You got it right, Daisy. This used to be a lake, and the section over there”—she pointed at the retreat area and the small town just over the hill in the distance—“that’s Christmas Cove. Though it used to be its own town, the Cove is now part of Elizabethtown, which is where you came in today.”

“That’s where we came in, too, on the train,” the shorter woman, Anne, said.

The small group gathered and listened intently to her explanation. “When the dam blew out downstream of here, wildflowers and grasses took over the fertile lakebed,” Thandie said as she looked at the scenery. “A beautiful accident, don’t you think?”

“Quite right,” Margret said.

“I just love a good British accent,” Daisy said. “What part of the ol’ isles are you from, anyway?”

“Oh, dear. We don’t call itthe isles. I hail from Lincolnshire. Best plum loaf in the world and the prettiest flowers you’ll find anywhere. Though this is a lovely view, don’t misunderstand me.”

“I would never,” Thandie jested.

“I hear a bit of an accent in you as well. Let me guess. Boer by way of the Midwest?” Margret asked.

Shocked at the woman’s accuracy, Thandie smiled. “That’s incredible, though I’m not whole Boer. My mother came from a Dutch plantation family that had been on that land for a century or more, but she fell in love and married my father, who is a native South African. She was disowned by my grandparents, and he had nothing more to offer my mother there. So, they moved to America before I was born. And the rest is history, they say.” They began the descent back to the retreat. “How did you do that, anyway?”

“I have a knack for languages and dialects. It’s a hobby, really. Plus, I view a lot of foreign tele on my various travels.”

“She’s a nosy nelly, that’s what she is,” her friend, Anne, said with a distinctly American accent.

“My parents never talked about it more than that, and they settled in Iowa. Farming was something they were both good at, so it was a natural occupation.”

“Hence the Midwest influence,” Margret added.

The other man piped in. “What about me? Can you tell where I’m from?” his eyebrows pulsed upwards on his wrinkled forehead.

“Florida. Central,” Margret said without missing a beat.

“Well, I’ll be!” he said. “That’s a talent like none other. I’m William.” He shook her hand.

“Margret,” she said. “And this is my best friend, Anne. Pleasure to meet you.”

The small group walked ahead while continuing their conversation. Thandie made good use of the high vantage point and took her phone from her cross-body bag. She snapped a few shots of the wildflowers and flipped the camera around for a selfie or two. Picking her best angle, she messaged a photo to JB, who would appreciate the tiny update.

As she zipped her bag, the phone buzzed and vibrated. Glad to have a signal for once, she looked. Only, it wasn’t a message back from JB that had buzzed, it was a voicemail. From Davis.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She sucked in breath and held it while she decided what to do. Until yesterday, he hadn’t so much as called her, texted her, or anything. Not even a random midnight drop in her DMs for months. She was fairly certain that she had said everything she needed to say to him before hanging up on him in the car.So, what could he possibly need now?

Turning off her phone, she put it away in her bag. She had waited months to know what had spooked him out of their wedding, and now he could wait on her to listen to his silly message. With her walking stick in hand, she began down the hill only to stop in her tracks a few steps later and dig her phone back out from the bag.

Patience wasn’t her strongest trait. She scrambled to get the thing out, but her eyes shifted from her bag to a man on a bike barreling down the path right in her direction. The front tire looked to have come off the rim and was flapping back and forth on the frame.

“Stop, stop,” she yelled, though the man had likely tried that already.

“Get out of the way. Whoa, WHOA!” he shouted as he skidded toward her on the narrow trail.

Hitting an exposed root, he tumbled off the bike and took her legs out from under her as he went one way, and the bike flew the other. He took hold of her with his arms wrapped around her body and protected her as they rolled to a stop at the level area several feet down from where the incursion had begun.

“Are you alright?” he said and cradled her head in his hand.

His body was half on top of her, with the majority of his weight on the ground. As he picked some grass and a twig out of her hair, his blue eyes twinkled and reflected the cornflower blue sky back at her. She swallowed hard at her body’s reaction to this stranger. As he continued to inspect her for injuries, she lay there in shock, but noticed his soft grin and concerned pinch of his brow.

Thandie sat up. “I think I’m okay. But are you?” She looked him over and flicked some dirt from his shoulder.

“I am so sorry.” He stood and reached down for her hand. “Mortified doesn’t cover it.”

---