Here you will experience
a potentially tense meeting between a young heiress and a one-armed gardener…two
longtime friends possibly set adrift after a night of startling revelations...
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We now take you to the gazebo...
Cheryl Van Der Van
observes her longtime friend sitting stoically, only a pair of tossed aside
gardening shears for company. His feet are spread evenly apart, his one
hand clutching a leg. No discernible expression can be found as he gazes
off into the distance.
She gingerly steps
closer to the gazebo, unsure of what his response will be. More has
changed in the last twenty-four hours than in the four months she had been
away.
"Good morning,
Dinkel," she nervously greets with a sincere smile.
He responds with
caution, unsure if Anapola spoke the truth over her daughter’s concern,
"Good morning, Cheryl."
"May I join
you?"
"You don't have to
ask," Dinkel states, feeling at ease with her politeness.
"After all, it is your gazebo."
Cheryl, sensing his
comfort, enters the structure. "Technically,
it was my father's."
"He built it for
you."
"That’s what my
mother has always told me." She walks across to where Dinkel is
seated. Along the way, a particular area of the wooden floor creaks and
gives a bit, but she pays it little mind, "I know that Father would
sometimes use this place to meditate."
"I remember seeing
him here a few times, all drawn up in thought." Dinkel looks around
at the neatly trimmed shrubs, "I can see why. It’s peaceful."
She calmly situates
herself beside him. No words are
exchanged as they completely absorb the bucolic surroundings. Fresh air
carries the pleasant aroma of flowers and the soft songs of faraway
birds. The warm sun caresses the shrubs, bringing with it the promise of
life.
"Are you mad at
me?" Dinkel gently breaks the serenity.
He continues looking forward, afraid to see her expression.
"For what?"
she asks for clarification, not facing him for the same reason.
Dinkel barely wants an
answer, but he needs to know, "For keeping the truth about your father's
death from you."
"You were following
Mother’s impossibly tyrannical demands. I can't be mad at you for that,
Dinkel."
"I just wish I
would have handled things better."
She knows precisely what
he means. "Are you angry with me for telling Crop the truth?"
“No,” Dinkel shakes his
head. “You did what I couldn't."
Silence trickles back
in, collecting and reshuffling their thoughts. No more talk of the
deception involved in the untimely death of Charles Van Der Van, at least for
today. There is something far more current to discuss, even though time
already seems to be making the subject irrelevant.
"Why Crop?"
Cheryl faces him, needing to see his expression. "Why did you fall
in love with him?"
Dinkel turns, not afraid
to look at her, "You know how easy he makes it, Cheryl."
She sees it in her
friend's blue eyes: a look of adoration for the man. "Why didn't you
write to me about the relationship?"
He sees it in his
friend's hazel eyes: a glimmer of sadness for her lost first love.
"You had been in love with him, Cheryl. I felt like I was betraying
you."
"Mother betrayed me
with Crop. You were just following your heart."
"It doesn't matter
now," he chuckles hollowly. "You and I have both lost
him."
"But...are you
still in love with him?" Cheryl asks without spite.
"Yes. Are you?"
"No. Crop Hoppins may be suave..."
"Handsome..."
Dinkel adds, causing a sedate interpolation.
"Intelligent..."
"Romantic..."
"Witty..."
"Tender..."
"But he is my
past," Cheryl concludes.
"I guess he's my
past, too." Dinkel gazes languidly at nothing specific.
Cheryl follows his gaze,
hating to see him so lost. "A friend once told me that regret slowly
and silently destroys everything."
"Your friend would
be right."
She nods in agreement,
"We can't change the past, Dinkel, but we can be strong and diligently
face the future."
"Tennis," he
states, thinking about tomorrow’s full game.
"My father's
company," she avows, contemplating the Van Der Van legacy.
Dinkel holds out his one
hand, initiating the old game. Cheryl instinctively reaches out to slap
it, but this time he doesn't move away. The friends join hands with a
loud clap, praying that neither time nor circumstance will ever tear their bond
asunder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 2013,
John L. Harmon
US UK CA AU
FR DE ES IT
JP BR IN MX NL
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Don't forget to read Chapters 12 & 32 and excerpts from the fourth set...
Be well, Readers, and Freak Out,
Be well, Readers, and Freak Out,
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