Golden by Cameron Dokey Read Free Book Online

back,” I said. “I wasn’t all that certain that you would.”
    â€œNeither was I,” he answered honestly. “But I kept remembering the things you’d said. Besides, I was curious.” He shrugged.
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œI thought maybe you’d grow some hair in my absence.”
    â€œI hate to disappoint you,” I said, as I plucked off my garden hat to reveal the head underneath. “But I did not.”
    â€œI’m not disappointed,” Harry said. “I brought something for you.”
    And it was only at that moment that I realized he’d been holding one hand behind his back.
    â€œYou brought me something?” I asked, astonished. So astonished that I forgot to put the hat back on my head.
    â€œThere’s no need to get carried away,” Harry said quickly, as if my reaction was cause for alarm. “It’s just a piece of cloth. That’s all.”
    He held it out, and I moved forward to take it from him.
    He was right. It was, indeed, just a piece of cloth. But the cloth was the finest muslin I had ever seen, embroidered all over with gold-petaled flowers. They stood stiffly out from dark centers the exact same color as my eyes. The stitches were so fine and close, I could hardly see the muslin underneath.
    â€œI know what these are,” I said, and I couldn’t havekept the delight from my voice if I’d tried. “These are black-eyed Susans. They’re my favorite flowers. How did you know?”
    â€œWhat makes you think I did?” Harry asked. He began to stand first on one foot, and then the other, shifting his weight from side to side. “Maybe I just guessed and got it right, or chose it on a whim.”
    I looked up then, confused by his tone. He was sounding awfully surly and aggressive for someone offering a gift.
    â€œIt wouldn’t matter if you had,” I answered carefully but honestly. “I don’t get gifts all that often.”
    He stood stock-still at this. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
    â€œNothing,” I said, beginning to get irritated in my turn. “It’s just—there’s only me and Melisande. She gives me a present on my birthday, of course, but until Mr. Jones gave me Mr. Jones...”
    I let my voice run out. I was pretty sure I sounded ridiculous, and feared I might sound pathetic, which would have been much worse.
    â€œI thought you might, you know, on your head,” Harry said. “Even from here, I can hardly see the muslin. All you see is the gold, really, like—”
    â€œGolden hair,” I said. My chest felt tight and funny. I had never told anyone why I loved these particular flowers so much, not even Melisande. Their petals were the exact color I’d always dreamed my hair might be, assuming my head ever decided to cooperate and actually grow some.
    â€œThank you, Harry. It’s lovely,” I said.
    He opened his mouth to make a smart remark, I was all but certain. He shut it with a snap, then tried a second time.
    â€œYou’re welcome. Parsley,” he said. “Don’t you want to put it on?”
    â€œHold this,” I said, and I handed him my gardening hat, then tied the kerchief on. It was soft and smooth against my head. “How does it look?”
    He began to shift his weight again, as if his shoes were too tight in fits and starts. I gazed down at them, suddenly afraid to meet his eyes.
    â€œHow should I know? It looks all right.”
    â€œThere’s roast chicken and new potatoes for supper,” I said. “With peas and mint, I think.”
    â€œIs there a pie?”
    â€œA cherry pie,” I said, looking back up. “I baked it just this morning.”
    Something came into his face then, a look that made me want to smile and weep all at the same time.
    â€œMy mother used to make cherry pies,” he said. “They were my father’s