|
|
|
At one time, the Church had been the center of QuiltersVillage. Before the Meeting House was built, it had served as a town hall, and before that, it was a school for the Village children. But as the town grew, it outgrew the Church.
Services were still held, bright and early each Sunday morning, and most wedding ceremonies took place within its white walls. Beyond that, the Church was mostly a quiet companion to Bailey's Blue House and the other buildings within the Village. Occasionally, a transient would take advantage of the unlocked 'red door', finding refuge and a few hours sleep on a wooden pew. Ann would see them sometimes, silent shuffling shadows seeking shelter, as she gazed out the kitchen window of Bailey's Blue House. Sometimes she'd fix a plate of leftovers and leave it on the last pew, retrieving the empty dish the next day.
She was doing just that when she happened to glance out the rear window of the church. It was the only window that wasn't stained glass, and had been left open to catch the breeze. She could see across the meadow behind Bailey's Blue House, and down the road where the two brothers had bought ten acres of land to put in a vineyard. Ben and Riley had put in long days, clearing brush, amending the soil, planting and caring for each vine as tenderly as if it were a child. Large green leaves and tiny clusters of unripe pearls rewarded their efforts, but it would be years before they would taste their first glass of wine.
Ben was working in the arbors that day, hauling water to the outermost vines that weren't serviced by the irrigation hoses. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing taut, tanned forearms. The faded chambray blue shirt did nothing to disguise his muscular frame, and Ann wondered why she'd never noticed how good looking 'old Ben' really was. Not that he was that much older, and not that she wasn't perfectly content with her husband Ted. It was just that she had known this person her whole life, and now realized that she'd never really noticed him before. Or perhaps, there was something slightly different about Ben. She pondered this for a moment, the empty plate in her hand, and was about to turn away from the window when Ben suddenly stopped in mid-stride. Water sloshed over the buckets he carried, drenching the lower parts of his legs, and he didn't even move.
Then Ann saw what had stopped Ben in his tracks, and the plate dropped to the floor. She shrieked with glee.
|
Subscribe
