"I am glad the mystery has been solved. I have always been curious about what Mr. Lawrence's daughter looks like."
Her eyebrows rose. "You know my father?"
"Yes, I know of him. You may know my mother, Mrs.
Sommers."
Hayley stood as she cleared her throat and handed him the wet, muddy cloth.
"She has come by our house a few times, but I didn't know she has a son."
"Yes, his name is Austin." He chuckled.
"Please forgive me. I should have been polite and asked for your name." Her cheeks turned red.
"I am sure you have impeccable manners, given the right situation."
"I must ask my father why he has never mentioned you."
"From what I understand, my mother and your father have never been good friends."
"Nor have they been friends of any sort, but he has never treated her as an enemy. Actually, he rarely speaks of her."
"I will acknowledge that she has quite a reputation on the island for resembling a dictator. In fact, there are a few islanders who refer to her as "Monarch Sommers". I hope you will not hold her authoritative disposition against me."
"Of course not."
Austin bowed. "I hope to see you again, one day soon."
"I am here most days when the weather is as beautiful as it is today." She replied.
"Yes, the island weather is not always so comfortable." Austin smiled.
Hayley's heart raced as he reached for her right hand and pressed his lips softly on the back of it. His smile broadened as he let her hand slip from his. While Hayley struggled to whisper "good-bye", he turned and walked away, into the shadows of the trees.
The recollection of the special day brought a smile to her face, as her attention returned to the garden and her book of poetry.
Suddenly, from the corner of her eye she caught sight of a brightly orange butterfly gliding smoothly toward her.
She smiled broadly as she reached out her arm as an offering. Surprisingly, it landed on her wrist. She knew that a moment such as this was rare. Studying its tiny features and brilliant colors, she had never seen a butterfly with the brilliant colors and detail it possessed.
As it delicately lifted off to flight, she too longed for wings.
Attempting to follow the butterfly, her twisted steps turned methodically into a dance.
Her face turned skyward as her arms spun freely and her body spun in circles. At the point of dizziness, she dropped rapidly to her knees, panting. The clamor of a horse's hooves broke through the labored sound of her heavy breathing. Glancing up, she caught sight of the object of her affection approaching.