Today's Reading
Mounted on Prince, Blaine joined the masses heading toward the redwoods. It appeared all of Eureka intended to take part in the picnic sponsored by the community's churches. As the path clogged with carriages, he chose trails too narrow for the buggies.
The air smelled musty—a combination of damp earth and ferns with a hint of decaying cedar. Towering trees blocked much of the sunlight. Shade-loving ferns lined the path, and mushrooms adorned fallen logs. Blaine eased Prince from a canter to a slow lope as he succumbed to the forest's spell. Surely God Himself inhabited this place.
As he neared the picnic site, children's shouts and laughter fused with adult voices disturbed the serene quiet. Tantalizing food aromas mingled together and overpowered the forest smells. Blaine's stomach growled. What were the odds he could snag a chicken leg before the dinner bell?
He tied Prince with the other horses and meandered toward the laden tables. Soon he'd make his presence known to his parents, or at least to his father, but for the moment he enjoyed the anonymity. He'd attended boarding schools in San Francisco for his early education, coming home only for holidays and the summer break. Then the past four years he'd stayed at the university except for brief visits at Christmas. Summers had been spent in San Francisco, learning bookkeeping from his father's friend. He knew almost no one, and, as he'd told Pratt, he preferred to gain a few first impressions before being paraded about as one of the town's eligible bachelors.
A group of children played ring-around-the-rosy between him and the tables. A young woman played with the children as if she were one of them; her laughter mingled with theirs in an expression of sheer delight. It seemed not to matter that her bonnet sat askew or that most of the other young ladies preferred croquet to rambunctious childish games.
Did she not see the critical glances thrown her way by the others? Could she not perceive they whispered about her? Perhaps she didn't care. She was beautiful, as were the women scorning her, but she possessed another quality. Confidence without snobbery. Her whole being spoke innocence and purity.
"Is she the one, heavenly Father?" Blaine scoffed at himself. To think the first woman he saw would be the one he sought bordered on ridiculous.
Suddenly she looked away from the children and their game, and her gaze met his. He couldn't divert his eyes from her face, as if some force held him captive. In a twinkling, her smile wrapped itself around his heart.
CHAPTER TWO
Ida dropped the little girl's hand she held. The silly song died on her lips. Who was this bold young man daring to stare at her as if he could gobble her up? Well, if he thought he could intimidate her, he was mistaken. She'd play with the children if she wanted to, and if he or anyone else didn't like it, they could take their scornful stares and jump in the river.
Although, on second thought, his gaze appeared anything but scornful. Some might describe him as handsome, with penetrating steel-blue eyes, a strong, square jaw, and thick dark curly hair—if one liked that sort of thing. Which Ida suddenly realized she did.
A little one tugged on her arm, and she rejoined the circle, her skirts swaying as she skipped with the group of youngsters. She sang with them, "We all fall down," and tumbled onto the grass in a manner most undignified. Her behavior didn't frighten the stranger away, as she thought it might. He approached, removing his hat.
"Most impressive." He extended his hand to help her rise.
For the briefest moment, Ida ignored the proffered hand, but his unpretentious smile won her over. "Thank you." Once on her feet, she adjusted her bonnet. "Impressive, you say. May I ask what you most enjoyed? The singing? The dancing? The tumbling?"
"I must confess, none of the above." He nodded toward a small cluster of young ladies glowering in their direction. "I'm astounded you are alive, considering the daggers being hurled your way."
Ida glanced at the onlookers, then met the stranger's eyes. "I hadn't noticed." She lifted her chin slightly. "That's a lie. I did notice. It inspired me to sing a bit louder and fall a bit less gracefully." She giggled at the lively children dancing around her.
"More, more," they cried.
Ida patted the head of the child nearest her. "Not now. I'll join you again later."
"Oh, don't let me interrupt your fun." The stranger's eyes sparkled.
"Will you join us in 'London Bridge'?" Ida's inner being laughed. If he joined in the fun, if he dared to brave the censure of the lovely young ladies scowling at her, she'd declare herself in love forever.
"I believe introductions are in order, first."
...
