Surrender at Orchard Rest by Hope Denney, Linda Au Read Free Book Online

always reminded Somerset of the white wings of the swans that Mrs. Garrett used to keep on her pond. She loved the narrow side gabled roofs and the never-ending porches where she had kissed no man, save Sawyer Russell, who was still alive. The porches, the enclosures, and the columns sheltered her while freeing her to do whatever she wished. With the exception of the house Eric had been building her, she loved no other place so well.
    She saw Joseph looking about him at all of Orchard Rest, hunger in his hazel eyes as they pulled away, and she felt his love for the place, too. She could read his thoughts. The grass was too tall, and the peach trees were out at the limbs. The roof of the oldest house needed new shingles and the fence to keep the deer out of the garden would need a coat of whitewash before winter. She turned her head when they passed the barn. He was still working on a new barn. She’d been forced to set fire to the original one during Wilson’s raid to save them, and years later he was still repairing the damage she’d caused. He felt a deep peace when working on Orchard Rest, a peace that wouldn’t have been provided by finishing law school. Now that it was certain he would get to keep his leg, he looked at the plantation with satisfaction on his face. He would move slower than before, but he would be useful again. His career was once in destruction, but he was redeeming himself as a creator now. She saw him look at the plow he’d meant to repair before the accident.
    Through his thick brown hair, she saw the outline of the scar where the rifle butt had connected with his head. The scar was wide, pink, and short. It was a daily reminder of the first time he almost died, while trying to help Eric. Once without thinking, she’d reached out and rubbed her index finger over it. Joseph had slapped her hand, not spoken to her for two weeks, and they’d never brought it up again.
    Victoria spoke, breaking Somerset’s reverie.
    “Why is Mother sorting through every piece of furniture we have?”
    “I didn’t know she was,” replied Somerset.
    “She’s gone through every chest, armoire, and cabinet in the house,” continued Victoria. “I even saw her checking behind every book in the library last night.”
    Joseph remained silent.
    Somerset mulled, engaged with the general strangeness of Victoria’s claim. She started in her seat, accidentally whipping Hector with the lines.
    “She hasn’t found her diary!” exclaimed Somerset. “She was looking for it last week before Joseph’s party.”
    “She keeps it in her room.”
    “It disappeared last week, and if she hasn’t found it yet, she must be half wild on the inside. You know how organized she is.”
    “How would it get out of her bedroom, Somerset? No one goes in her bedroom.”
    “She misplaced it or someone took it,” considered Somerset. She turned to Joseph. “Did you take it?”
    He rolled his eyes and made a sound of irritation.
    “Why the devil would I take an old woman’s memoirs?” he asked.
    “Because you like to rile her,” said Somerset.
    “Somerset,” chided Victoria.
    “He does. He loves to see her get worked up, and he’s been bored now for weeks. Did you take it?”
    “Seeing as how she hasn’t breathed a word of it to me, I’d have replaced it by now, don’t you think?”
    “No, not necessarily.”
    “Well, I don’t have her chronicles of having been a rich beauty. Did you take it and read it for amusement?” asked Joseph.
    “I don’t think it’s funny in the slightest,” returned Somerset.
    “Warren runs in and out of her room all day long, following her,” said Victoria. “I’ll ask him if he took it.”
    Joseph cleared his throat.
    “I don’t care what happened to it. It’s that time of year again where she obsesses over it. I just want to let the past go.”
    They lapsed into silence again.
    They passed the drive that led to the Garretts’ place and then the cemetery. It was a hot sticky