hecking to make sure you w ashed all the manure out.” He kept hold of her hair and took a deep breath. “Yes, she’s clean, Mary. I think w e can go.”
Taylor stared at him. The red of her face deepened and confusion sho w ed in her eyes.
Jeff smiled in w ardly. He enjoyed her discomfort. Anything he could do to drive her thoughts a w ay from Rod pleased him. For a fe w seconds, guilt threatened his plan. H e pu shed the emotion aside. Rod never deserved her.
Mary laughed as she looked from one to the other. “Jeff, w hy did you stay a w ay so long? W e’ve missed your humor.”
“ Life happens . ” H e shrugged, un w ill ing to share the real reason. Forcing a lighter tone, he teased, “ If w e don’t have lunch soon, you’ll find me collapsed on the floor from lack of nourishment. ” He faked a s w oon.
Taylor grabbed the large, s w eet-grass basket. “ Thanks, Miss Mary. You, carry the the rmos.” She directed her last w ords to Jeff.
He saluted, picked up the jug of s w eet tea and headed to the side door.
Once outside, Taylor asked, “Have you decided on a spot?”
He grinned. “Yep!”
“ W here?”
“Just follo w me. I’ll lead the w ay.”
He headed across the grass to w ard the camellia garden and the river. Just before they left the la w n and entered the path that w ended through, he stopped. “My mother loved this garden. I remember coming here as a little boy. Your grandmother w as still alive.” He glanced at her.
She stood as if rememberi ng. “She planned and started this w hole area, w anting flo w ers in the w inter.”
“My mom loved the idea and began one of her o w n. Nana Harris gave her cuttings to add to the collection. My job w as to w ater the ne w plants. I hated that. Yet, w hen I came home, almost the first thing I did w as check Mom’s camellias.” He studied the area for a fe w minutes.
“Nana Harris . Everyone called her that. ”
“Her bro w nies surely are in the hall of fame for best cookies,” he added, before strolling further do w n the dirt covered path . The w idth allo w ed for single file only . On either side, ro w s of camellias stret ched fifteen feet in the air, their circumference ten or more feet , s o thick one couldn’t see beyond the next bend in the trail. Although bare of their beautiful flo w ers, Jeff remembered ho w they looked in full bloom. The memory sharply brought back his mother’ s smile, w hich he matched w ith his o w n.
After several more t w ist s and turns, Taylor’s w ords returned him to the present. “Are you sure you kno w w here you are going?”
“Yep!”
“ W hat’s w ith this ‘yep’?” she asked , in a be w ildered tone .
He didn’t ans w er. Instead, he halted . She managed to squeeze beside him, because the path had w idened a bit . They stood directly next to an old live oak . The tree had fallen over in a storm probably 100 years ago, yet the oak had managed to survive and keep gro w ing.
Jeff tur ned to w ard the side w ays tree. Taylor matched his move. For a moment, neither spoke, instead they admired Mother N ature ’ s creativity and tenaciousness .
The trunk , w ith a diameter of at least six or seven feet a n d an almost flat su rface on the topside, clear ed the ground by about an inch or t w o . Coming from the same source in the earth , another huge trunk rose forty-five feet. The canopy of limbs, branches, and leaves of the latter sheltered and shaded, almost protective of its prone t w in. To the right flo w ed the Broad River, w hich permitted a gentle breeze to flo w through the trees and bushes.
“I haven’t been here in ages. ” S he looked over at Jeff. “Remember w hen w e w ould w alk on the trunk ? O nce I dared you to jump off the end of the trunk into the pluff mud?”
“ The scars from the oyster shells remind me every time I looked at my legs. ”
“ W hat?” She glimpsed his w ell-shaped calves, inspecting them carefully . “No scars.”
“No thanks
Taylor stared at him. The red of her face deepened and confusion sho w ed in her eyes.
Jeff smiled in w ardly. He enjoyed her discomfort. Anything he could do to drive her thoughts a w ay from Rod pleased him. For a fe w seconds, guilt threatened his plan. H e pu shed the emotion aside. Rod never deserved her.
Mary laughed as she looked from one to the other. “Jeff, w hy did you stay a w ay so long? W e’ve missed your humor.”
“ Life happens . ” H e shrugged, un w ill ing to share the real reason. Forcing a lighter tone, he teased, “ If w e don’t have lunch soon, you’ll find me collapsed on the floor from lack of nourishment. ” He faked a s w oon.
Taylor grabbed the large, s w eet-grass basket. “ Thanks, Miss Mary. You, carry the the rmos.” She directed her last w ords to Jeff.
He saluted, picked up the jug of s w eet tea and headed to the side door.
Once outside, Taylor asked, “Have you decided on a spot?”
He grinned. “Yep!”
“ W here?”
“Just follo w me. I’ll lead the w ay.”
He headed across the grass to w ard the camellia garden and the river. Just before they left the la w n and entered the path that w ended through, he stopped. “My mother loved this garden. I remember coming here as a little boy. Your grandmother w as still alive.” He glanced at her.
She stood as if rememberi ng. “She planned and started this w hole area, w anting flo w ers in the w inter.”
“My mom loved the idea and began one of her o w n. Nana Harris gave her cuttings to add to the collection. My job w as to w ater the ne w plants. I hated that. Yet, w hen I came home, almost the first thing I did w as check Mom’s camellias.” He studied the area for a fe w minutes.
“Nana Harris . Everyone called her that. ”
“Her bro w nies surely are in the hall of fame for best cookies,” he added, before strolling further do w n the dirt covered path . The w idth allo w ed for single file only . On either side, ro w s of camellias stret ched fifteen feet in the air, their circumference ten or more feet , s o thick one couldn’t see beyond the next bend in the trail. Although bare of their beautiful flo w ers, Jeff remembered ho w they looked in full bloom. The memory sharply brought back his mother’ s smile, w hich he matched w ith his o w n.
After several more t w ist s and turns, Taylor’s w ords returned him to the present. “Are you sure you kno w w here you are going?”
“Yep!”
“ W hat’s w ith this ‘yep’?” she asked , in a be w ildered tone .
He didn’t ans w er. Instead, he halted . She managed to squeeze beside him, because the path had w idened a bit . They stood directly next to an old live oak . The tree had fallen over in a storm probably 100 years ago, yet the oak had managed to survive and keep gro w ing.
Jeff tur ned to w ard the side w ays tree. Taylor matched his move. For a moment, neither spoke, instead they admired Mother N ature ’ s creativity and tenaciousness .
The trunk , w ith a diameter of at least six or seven feet a n d an almost flat su rface on the topside, clear ed the ground by about an inch or t w o . Coming from the same source in the earth , another huge trunk rose forty-five feet. The canopy of limbs, branches, and leaves of the latter sheltered and shaded, almost protective of its prone t w in. To the right flo w ed the Broad River, w hich permitted a gentle breeze to flo w through the trees and bushes.
“I haven’t been here in ages. ” S he looked over at Jeff. “Remember w hen w e w ould w alk on the trunk ? O nce I dared you to jump off the end of the trunk into the pluff mud?”
“ The scars from the oyster shells remind me every time I looked at my legs. ”
“ W hat?” She glimpsed his w ell-shaped calves, inspecting them carefully . “No scars.”
“No thanks
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