Winter in Full Bloom (10 page)

He rose from the couch and greeted me with a smile warm enough to take the chill off any morning. “Hello. You look nice.”

“Thanks.”
So do you.
His slacks were pressed to perfection, his polo shirt was Ralph Lauren, and he was clean-shaven. Nice. I clutched my purse strap for support. “So, where are you taking me?”

“Do you like chocolate?” Marcus asked.

“Who doesn’t?” Funny how the thought of chocolate added a pleasant lilt to my voice, but then chocolate is, after all, a woman’s best friend.

“I know just the place. In my opinion, Melbourne has the best chocolate shops in the world. Some of them are nestled in the laneways.”

It sounded like a tasty adventure.

A cluster of guests scurried in through the lobby doors and brushed by us, laughing. “So, tell me, what are laneways?”

“They’re alleyways crammed full of cafés and galleries and bustling with life.” Marcus made circling gestures with his hands. “You’ll love ’em. But before we go there, maybe we should check in with Rowan at St. Paul’s. Maybe he found some time to look over the membership records for your sister.”

“Rowan did say he’d call if anything turned up.”

“Did you get any phone messages?” Marcus asked.

“No.”

“Well, just in case he forgot, it wouldn’t hurt to swing by the cathedral.”

“Good idea.”

Marcus knelt down in front of me. “Your shoe, my lady.”

“My shoe?”

“You’ve come undone.”

I looked down at my shoelaces, one of which had indeed come untied.

Marcus gestured for me to place my shoe on his knee, and after I obeyed, he gingerly tied my shoestring. “Falling is easier than you think, Love.”

He stared up at me. His expression waded into waters deep enough to drown in, but before I could even think to respond, he gave my shoe a pat and stood. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Marcus placed his hand at my back and escorted me through the sliding glass doors of the hotel. Even though I barely felt his hand through my layers of fabric, the encounter caused an awakening inside me, like the first tentative signs of spring after a long winter. Yes, it was an apt description, and one I didn’t shy away from.

Marcus gave me bits of data about the area as we strolled along the river, which turned out to be much more than just a waterway. The longer I stayed the more I could feel it—the Yarra was the center of life, the heartbeat of the city—and I felt glad to be a part of that pulsing vitality.

As we crossed one of the bridges and headed toward St. Paul’s, Marcus said, “Since you seem to like touristy information, you might like to know that this bridge we’re walking on is called Princes Bridge, and it was constructed in 1888. The bridge was named after Edward, the Prince of Wales, and there’s another one similar to it in London.”

“Ahh. Well, it’s beautiful. And I especially like the balustrade and the old lamplights. So ornate. Makes me think of something out of a Dickens novel.”

“I can almost see the police dashing past us as they chase after the Artful Dodger.”

I grinned. My glance at him lingered. Marcus had turned out to be more than I’d imagined. Funny how first impressions almost always came up wrong. Perhaps I’d judged too quickly. In the midst of my musings about Marcus, my mind wandered back toward my sister and the missing puzzle pieces. If only we could find her, so much would be answered and made right again. Could our paths have already crossed on the streets, and I’d missed her?

We approached St. Paul’s Cathedral and trotted up the concrete steps. Once inside we made our way to the gift shop counter. Rowan was there, and he lit up when he saw Marcus.

“How are ya?” Marcus shook Rowan’s hand.

“Good.” The older man adjusted his bowtie. “Thanks for helping out the other night with the teens. I’m not very experienced around young people. They’ve got this new language and so many techy gizmos I don’t always know what to say to connect with them. But they like you.”

Marcus leaned on the counter. “Probably because I’m still a kid.”

Rowan laughed.

“They’ll warm up to you,” Marcus said. “So, how’s the missus?”

“She’s well. Thanks.” Rowan turned to me. “It’s Lily. I remember. And I did look up your sister on the membership rolls. Camille Daniels, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” I held my breath.
Please let it be good news.

The light left his face. “But I didn’t find anything under that last name.” Rowan lowered his gaze. “I know this is important. I’m really sorry.”

“Do you have a schedule of all your services?”

“Yes.” Rowan reached under the counter, pulled out a small blue sheet of paper, and handed it to me.

“Maybe my sister attends here, but she’s not a member yet. Perhaps I can come to your services and try to find her that way.”

“That’s always a possibility.” Rowan tugged on his bowtie as though it were strangling him. “But I wish I could have been more help.”

“It’s all right.” I smiled, since everything on the poor man’s face went crinkly with sorrow. “Thank you.”

“I know you did your best.” Marcus splayed his fingers on the counter. “Thanks, mate.”

“Hope you find her,” Rowan said in a gravelly whisper. “I’ll pray that it’ll come good.”

“Thank you.” A pipe organ revved up in the cathedral—someone practicing perhaps—with one of my favorite hymns, “Holy, Holy, Holy.” The majestic and sacred tune, announcing God’s glorious presence, could not be ignored. I was glad for the reminder. I would need Him every step of this journey.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Never get tired of hearing it.”

Rowan raised his hand, palm facing us. “Well, then … cheerio.”

“Cheerio.” I waved back.

As we stepped away from the counter, Rowan said, “Glad to see you have Marcus to help you. It’ll make the search easier … and more enjoyable.”

“Thanks, mate.” Marcus gave Rowan a hearty salute. “I’ll pay you later for saying that.”

Rowan chuckled.

On the other side of the big wooden doors, away from Rowan’s eyes and ears, my enthusiasm faded a little. “I’m so ready for that chocolate now.”

“I’m sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean to start your day with disappointment.”

“Of course you didn’t. We did the right thing. I don’t want to leave any stones unturned while I’m here.” I held up the schedule of services. “This is good … to have this complete list. You know, just in case the woman we find on the streets isn’t Camille.” A jazz band revved up across the street, startling me. Along with the traffic noises and clatter of humanity I didn’t even hesitate when Marcus offered his arm.

“I’m pretty confident that this woman is your sister, but you’re right. There’s no guarantee. I don’t mind attending the services with you. If you’d like me to.”

“Of course I would, but you don’t have to do that. I feel as if I’m abusing you.” But I hoped my words wouldn’t make him go away. Rowan was right—the search for my sister would have been so much lonelier without Marcus.

“I have the time, and I feel it’s a privilege to help you. It’s a worthy pursuit.”

I touched the sleeve of his jacket. “Thank you so much.” I’d been saying that to Marcus a lot lately, and meaning every syllable of it. I slid the church schedule into my purse.

“All right then.” He slapped his hands together. “Time to get some serious chocolate in you.”

I stayed close to Marcus as we zigzagged through several blocks crowded with people until we got to a paved passageway, which was crammed with boutiques and eateries. People sat at outdoor bistro tables, eating and chatting and sipping coffee as if they were part of a quaint tourist scene in a movie. Awnings and umbrellas covered the area, making it even cozier. “I’ve never seen anything like this. So, these are laneways?”

“What do you think?”

“It’s charming. I wouldn’t have imagined all this was hiding back here in this narrow alleyway.” Guess not all hidden things were horrible. I glanced into some of the shops as we strolled along. A few curious pigeons neck-waddled over to us and then fluttered on ahead.

“Here’s The Chocolat Shoppe. Let’s go.” With a comical flourish, Marcus swung open the door. When I took in the intoxicating smells of chocolate I thanked God He’d decided to create the cacao bean. What a great idea.

The chic little shop had such a unique atmosphere—subdued lighting, shades of bronze trimmed in gold. The rich elegance enhanced the merchandise and made me salivate, which was exactly their intent.

Soon we were at the front counter and my eyes beheld a lush array of gourmet chocolates. I had to hold myself back from acting like a child and pressing my nose against the curved glass case as I stared at all the goodies—chocolate jewels. “So many, and they’re so beautifully presented. They look like eatable treasures.”

“Thank you,” said the young woman behind the counter, clearly pleased with my reaction to their confections.

“Select as many as you like,” Marcus said. “I’m buying.”

I looked at him, wanting to frown at his crazy generosity, but couldn’t when I saw his obvious joy. “But you bought my dinner last night.”

“Please let me do this. I want to.”

“All right.” I gazed into the case. “Let’s see. I’ll take one of the rose creams, and one of the lavender truffles,” I said to the woman. “Oh, and one of the raspberry mousse-filled ones too.”

“That’s all?” Marcus asked. “That’ll just get you started on your chocolate high.”

“I want to save room for lunch. What are you having?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Ohhh.”

When the woman gave us our treats on crystal trays, we sat down to swoon. Or at least I did. I ate the chocolates with excruciating slowness, not wanting to rush the delicate process of rapture. “I’ve always loved chocolate, like any other woman, but I’ve never had anything like this.” I licked my lips. “My taste buds are having a giddy moment.”

“Good.” Marcus grinned. “Want a sip of my cocoa?”

I’d been eyeing his beverage. “Maybe just a teeny bit.”

He handed it over, and I took a luxurious sip. And then another. “Oh, my. A concoction straight from heaven.” I handed his glass mug back to him before I tipped it up and drank it down. “I’m curious about something.”

“Hmm?”

“How come I haven’t heard any ‘G’days’ since I’ve been here? I was kind of looking forward to it. Is it just a myth that everybody says it? You know, kind of like how some of the people here think Texans are all cowboys?”

“It is an Aussie term, but it’s not as popular in the city as it is in the bush.” Marcus pointed to his upper lip. “You have a little chocolate moustache.”

“Thanks.” I daubed at my mouth. “I noticed you’ve picked up some of the culture and lingo here. So, do you sort of consider yourself an Aussie now?”

“No. I’m an American, but I’d like to fit in while I’m here. It would be nice to fit in somewhere during my lifetime.”

“I do understand what you mean.”

“Oh? Tell me.” He took another sip from his mug.

“At least growing up, that’s the same way I felt around my mother… wanting to fit in. My father passed away when I was little. I have a few fond memories of him. After the age of seven or so, I had a series of nannies, since my mother didn’t want to be bothered with me. So, I grew up trying too hard at everything, always trying to seek her approval. All I really wanted was to be with her, instead of spending my time with a woman who was paid to take care of me.” I wiped some invisible crumbs off the table, wishing I could flick the problems and years away.

“I’ll bet that makes finding your sister even more important. It would give you a place to belong.” His attention shifted briefly to a family who was sitting on the other side of the shop. They were laughing together, obviously enjoying one another’s company.

“Yes, exactly.” Marcus did understand me. “A place to belong. Like in your storybook
When Pigs Fly
. I loved that book. It was just what I needed to hear at the time. Maybe the story was more for me than Julie, although she loved it too. It made us cry when Bernie found his home at last … a place where he could belong.”

“Made me cry too.” Marcus smiled. “That’s when I know it will touch somebody else.”

How sweet. “Not many guys can say something like that with confidence.”

“Well, as you already know, I’m not like most guys.”

No indeed. I still could hardly believe the man who sat before me was
the
Miles Hooper. A storyteller who’d impacted my daughter’s life, and my life as well. His whimsical tales were always woven with sad elements, but they were also full of heart and humor and a life lesson that was profound without being preachy. I hadn’t told Julie yet, about Marcus being Miles, but I would tell her in time.

“I think it’s sad you don’t write anymore. People will miss your stories. All the children growing up now will never know the wonder of Miles Hooper.”

“Thanks, but that’s all behind me now. And my old books are still in print, so readers can enjoy those. That is, if kids today find them interesting. Every new generation has different needs and likes.”

I took a sip of ice water but gazed at him over the rim of my glass. “But your books are classics. They will always be loved. They’re like Pooh Bear, and I’ve never met anyone who didn’t love Pooh.”

“That’s nice, Lily. I still get sizable royalties from those books. That and the trust fund keep me going.”

I moved my glass tray to the side. “But what will you do with your life? The rest of it? You’re still fairly young.”

“Fairly young?” He grinned.

“Sorry. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know.” Marcus gripped the edge of the table. “To be honest, I feel that what I’m doing right now is the most important thing I’ve done since I’ve been here. This is paramount.”

“Eating chocolate?”

“No, helping you to find your sister.”

“I know.” I made a floppy hand gesture that must have come off as juvenile. “I was just teasing you, which is something I don’t do often. So, you really did know who Roo was from Winnie-the-Pooh. You know, when we first met?”

“Yes, I knew. I was just kidding around. Milne is one of my favorite authors. In fact, roo is another word for kangaroo here.”