Diamonds and Dreams (14 page)

“Mad at you? I wasn’t mad at you.”

“You weren’t? Then why’d you snarl out that
question about the duke lessons? You almost bit me in two.
Somethin’ on your mind?”

He made a mental note to try and control his
emotions. Her sensitivity was tender and deep, and she took
everything very personally. He had no wish to hurt her. He had no
wish to tell her what was on his mind either. “No,” he replied.

There was
so
something on his mind,
she decided. She searched his face carefully, seeking some sort of
clue that would tell her what it was. He was frowning slightly. His
lips weren’t relaxed; they were sort of pinched up. His eyes were
narrowed. His jaw was moving rhythmically. “What are you
chewin’?”

“Chewing?” His frown deepened. What in
heaven’s name was she talking about? “I’m not chewing
anything.”

She didn’t believe him. “Open your mouth and
let me see.” She got to her knees on the bench, leaning closer to
his face. “Go on and open it. You’re chewin’ somethin’, and I want
to know what it is.”

He clenched his teeth together, speaking
between them. “If I’m chewing something, what business is it of
yours?”

“It’s my business because you have somethin’
to eat, and you didn’t share it with me.”

“Oh, good God.” Saber opened his mouth wide,
watching her peer into it. He felt thoroughly absurd. No one had
ever stared into his mouth before.

“I don’t see anything but teeth and a
tongue,” Goldie informed him, her eyes a fraction of an inch from
his lips. “You have good teeth, Saber. Real white, and real
straight. Now, what were you chewin’? Your cud, like a cow?”

She was comparing him to a bovine! “Goldie,
I told you I wasn’t chewing—” He broke off. This conversation was
the most preposterous he could recall ever having. It made him
laugh again.

“Your jaw was movin’. Why was it movin’ if
you weren’t chewin’? I never saw anyone’s jaw move like that when
they weren’t chewin’. That’s a strange habit you have, Saber.”

Her face was still very close to his. He
looked at her lips, wondering how they would feel upon his.
You
have a very kissable mouth, Goldie.
The thought both disturbed
and excited him. He looked at her speckled nose and performed the
feat of counting those little brown dots. “You have seventeen
freckles on the top of your nose.”

Her bottom lip quivered. She caught it
between her teeth so Saber wouldn’t see it trembling.
Why,
God,
she asked silently,
did You give me these ugly
freckles?
Sitting back down, she buried her face in her
dandelions. The flowers drew the tears from her lashes and the
sadness from her heart.

“Actually, I have nineteen,” she corrected
him, speaking into the blossoms. “Nineteen on the tip of my nose,
and seven between my eyes. Rudy Lumpkin down in Dilly Corner,
Tennessee, said that sometimes freckles get wiped off on your
pillowcase at night. None of mine do. I know, because I count ’em
every mornin’. Rudy was such a liar.”

She spoke so softly, Saber almost couldn’t
hear her. Earlier, however, he’d noted a suspicious, yet fleeting
shake in her voice. “Goldie?”

She pretended to scratch her cheek, thus
drying the last tear. “I’ve got a lesson for you,” she said
lightly. “It’s not a duke lesson, though. It’s a lesson about
dandelions.” She pulled one from her handful, holding it up to
him.

He noticed it was a gray, furry one that had
gone to seed. He noticed, too, a solitary droplet of water on
Goldie’s chin. Morning dew from her flowers? Or a tear?

“Dandelions are the most misunderstood
flowers in all the world,” she announced, raising the gray puff
higher. “Most people, includin’ a certain seaweed-eyed man I know,
think they’re weeds. But there’s a lot to be learned from the
humble dandelion.”

“Ah, and what is that, pray tell?” He cast
another glance at her chin. The droplet was gone.

“Watch.” When she had his full attention,
she blew on the dandelion. The breeze caught hundreds of furry
seedlings, carrying them swiftly in many directions.

Saber wondered what she wanted him to say.
“Am I supposed to clap?”

“No, you’re supposed to
think
. Think
about those little seeds, floatin’ along. They’re gonna land
somewhere and more dandelions are gonna spring up.”

As if in the deepest state of concentration
a human being was capable of, Saber squeezed his eyes closed and
pinched the bridge of his nose—an action he often performed when he
really was in the throes of profound deliberation. “Amazing. Truly
amazing.”

She looked at him from the corner of her
eye, realizing he was teasing her. She liked it when he did that.
“People have the same power dandelions do, Saber. I’ve thought long
and hard about it for many a year, and sometimes I think about
people when I blow on dandelions. Wanna know why?”

She was so excited about telling him, he
felt just as anxious to know. “Tell me.”

“Well, take bad moods for example. When
you’re mad, your anger takes off in a great burst, blows along, and
pounds down on other people. It takes root and grows, then those
people are in bad moods right along with you, and sometimes they
don’t even know why. Now take happy moods. A nice smile, a cheerful
hum, a good deed...they spring from you, drift along, and settle on
people too. They root, grow, and then those people start feelin’
inclined to smile, hum, or do a good deed. And the best thing about
it, is that you can actually
watch
it all happenin’. Just
like with dandelions. Seeds from other flowers aren’t as visible.
But blow on a dandelion, and right before your eyes you see it give
up its treasures. And...And don’t forget that if you blow ’em
all
off, you get a wish,” she added softly.

He heard the wistfulness in her voice. “And
do all of your wishes come true, Goldie?” he asked gently.

She stared down at her bouquet, assaulted by
memories so painful, it was a long moment before she could take her
mind off them. “And you can’t kill off dandelions either, Saber,”
she gushed nervously. “Pull ’em up, smash ’em down, and they come
right back. You can’t keep dandelions down for long, and that’s the
way people should be too, I think. So when you’re feelin’ low,
spring back up. It’s all in the dandelion, Saber. Now what other
flower do you know of teaches those kinds of lessons and gives you
a wish too?”

He knew of none. Nor had he ever been told
something so meaningful in such a simple way. Her words touched a
secret part of him. One he’d been unaware he possessed. He
smiled.

She returned his smile instantly.

He looked at her grin. It was brilliant with
joy. What she was so joyful about, he didn’t know, but he felt it
too. It was a tranquil sort of happiness that didn’t stem from
anything specific. It was just there.

It began to loosen the knots he’d tied
around his memories. “I played with dandelions when I was little,
too,” he told her quietly, hesitantly. “I—There was a big iron pot
in our yard. I used to fill it with water, dirt, and dandelions. It
was a stew, you see, and I’d stir it with a long stick.” God, he
thought. That had been so much fun, making that stew. He almost
wished he could turn time back and do it again.

But he couldn’t. Those days were over.
Dandelion stew, his parents, Angelica...everything he’d ever loved
was lost to him, and he could never have it back again. Sadness,
like smoke from a dying fire, curled through him.

“You made dandelion stew?” Goldie asked.
“Saber, I did that too! But I didn’t have an iron pot. I had a
bucket. Just think! We lived a million miles away from each other,
but we both liked to make dandelion stew! Isn’t that funny?”

Her amazement was contagious, and he felt
his sadness fading. “That
is
rather amusing, isn’t it?”

Her grin widened little by little. “Saber,
you want to do it again? I haven’t done it in so long.”

He looked at her bouquet. As much as he’d
enjoyed making dandelion stew as a boy, he wasn’t likely to do it
now. He was the thirty-year-old Duke of Ravenhurst, for heaven’s
sake! “Goldie, I don’t think—”

“Aw, come on, Saber!” She hopped off the
bench and began pulling at his hand. “Let’s see if it’s as much fun
now as it used to be!”

“Goldie, we are both adults,” he reminded
her sternly. “As such—”

“Can’t adults have fun? What harm can
dandelion stew do anybody?”

“Well, none, but—”

“Please, Saber? Please?”

The enthusiasm pouring from her bright eyes
was too much for him to resist. He could find no more will to deny
her. Standing, he took a quick glance around, satisfied when he saw
no one about. He’d never live it down if Addison and the boys saw
him occupied with dandelion stew. “All right,” he said quietly, his
gaze still darting about, “but I’m only doing this because you want
to do it. Myself, I find it utterly outlandish.”

“But it’ll be outlandishly fun.”

“Perhaps it will be for
you
. I will
more than likely dislike it completely.” He looked around again,
relieved when he still saw no one. “There are feed buckets in the
barn. You may use one of those.”

Goldie nodded and laid her dandelions on the
bench. “And you start diggin’ up dirt.”

Saber watched her scurry to the barn. The
wind lifted her skirts, providing him with a quick, but tantalizing
view of her dainty legs. She wore no undergarments. The realization
made him very warm.

“Dig the dirt, Saber!” she called,
disappearing into the barn.

“Oh, yes,” he mumbled. “The dirt. Quite
right.” He set about looking for a place where he could dig, soon
finding a good spot in the garden. The flowers grew high, thus
hiding him.

But he had no shovel. He imagined he could
find one in the barn, but he had no intention of taking the risk of
being spotted with one. Shrugging, he bent to the ground and began
clawing at the soil with his fingers. “I cannot believe I’m doing
this,” he muttered to the red blossom touching his nose.

But the loosened earth felt cool and good to
him, he realized, scooping up a great handful of it. He squeezed
it, grinning when it formed a soft, moist ball in his hands. He
sniffed it. The scent filled him with contentment. He’d loved dirt
as a boy, and discovered it still held a certain fascination for
him. He dug up more, making a pile by his foot.

“Oh, Saber, that’s good, soft dirt!” Goldie
exclaimed, arriving with the tin bucket and dandelions. “There
aren’t any clods in it at all.”

He dried his perspiring brow on his crisp
shirtsleeve and noticed the dirt beneath his nails. He hadn’t seen
them look like that in twenty-five years. “I worked all the clods
out.”

“I never let any clods get into the stew,
did you?”

He shook his head and wiped his dirty hands
on his immaculate trousers. “Rocks either.” Standing, he took the
bucket from her. After filling it with water from the garden
fountain, he brought it back and placed it on the ground. He handed
Goldie a stick he’d found lying among the roses. “For stirring,” he
explained.

She nodded. “Now, you put in the dirt, and
I’ll add the dandelions.”

He looked around again, still sure someone
was going to catch him involved with this unseemly activity. “It’s
your stew. I dug the dirt, and I’ll do no more. I’ll merely
watch.”

“Watchin’ isn’t any fun.”

“Nevertheless, it’s all I’ll do.”

“Y’know what, Saber?” she asked, looking up
into his narrowed eyes. “You’re about as much fun as a
hangnail.”

“Indeed.”

Sighing, Goldie added the dirt and
dandelions to the water, then began to stir the mixture with the
stick Saber had provided.

Saber observed her quietly for a moment,
deciding she was going about it all wrong. He kept his opinion to
himself for as long as he could, but soon couldn’t resist giving
her a suggestion. “Goldie, you have to stir harder than that. If
you don’t, the dirt on the bottom won’t get mixed in well. Here,
let me show you.” He tried to take the stick from her.

She held it tighter. “What are you? A
professional dandelion stew maker? I made enough of these stews
when I was little to know that stirring it—”

“Look, I made them too, and I’m telling you
that you’re stirring too—”

“Then get your own stick and stir the way
you want.”

For a split second that was exactly what he
felt inclined to do. But he remembered himself immediately. “I told
you I was only going to watch.”

“Yeah? Well for someone who’s only watchin’,
you’re sure interferin’ a lot.”

He raised his chin defiantly. “I was only
offering suggestions. It’s your stew, and if you want all the dirt
to stay on the bottom then by all means let it. And I must tell
you, Goldie, that I don’t appreciate being compared to a
hangnail.”

Goldie grinned, feeling mischief overtake
her. “Maybe you’re right, Saber. Maybe I’m not doing this right.
Show me how it’s done.” She snatched the stick from the stew and
tossed it to him, her eyes widening in feigned horror when dark mud
splattered the front of his stark-white shirt.

He glanced down at himself, unable to
determine if he was angry or amused. Nor could he utter a word or
decide what to do.

“Oh, Saber. Look how filthy you are.”

He heard a naughty lilt in her voice and
looked up from his shirt. The dare radiating from her huge amber
eyes erased all thought of remaining genteel. “And you’re a tad too
clean, you little brat.” With that, he reached into the bucket and
got two handfuls of mud.

“Saber,” Goldie said, backing away,
“don’t.”

Stalking her, he caught her and smeared the
mud on her cheeks, adding a blob to the end of her nose for good
measure.

“You’re gonna get it now,” she mumbled,
watching the mud slide from her face to the front of her dress.
Marching back to the bucket, she got some mud and spun to face
him.