Chapter Twelve
Content to have company, the elderly woman, Florie, chatted cheerfully whilst keeping watch as Anne dug into the woman’s tiny garden.
“The soil is rich and always produces a hearty crop. I will be sharing with ye, for all yer hard work,” Florie said. Sitting in a chair just outside the door to her humble cottage, and with gnarled hands, she separated seeds carefully on a cloth that had been stretched across her knees.
Feeling guilty for not seeing about Florie for several days in a row, this was Anne’s second visit in two days. Unlike her outings to care for Agnes, Anne looked forward to the days she spent time with Florie.
Like most elderly, the woman was a fountain of knowledge and had taught Anne quite a lot. Thanks to her, Anne’s own garden now flourished. The woman having instructed Anne in which direction certain plants should be planted.
From cooking to tending to womanly things, Florie seemed to have the right answers for it all.
“Ye are quiet again today,” Florie said. “Something weighs on yer mind, lass.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. A true one at that. Anne had not stopped thinking about what had transpired with Camden.
When not distracted, she’d replay every second of the kiss. The sounds he’d made. The feel of his lips against hers. The way he’d held her close. All were like living things. Each time she remembered how his body had felt against hers, her body heated.
In her bed at night, she’d gone over what Camden had said. Dissected each word in an attempt to figure out the meaning behind the statement.
“What I said is true. I wish to get to ken ye. I wish to—” If only she’d not interrupted him.
“Anne.” Florie snatched her attention back to the present. The older woman chuckled. “I deduce yer silence has to do with a man.”
Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Since her hands were crusted in dirt, which prevented her from covering her face, Anne opted to turn away.
“A man? Is that the only thing that would weigh heavily on a woman’s mind?” Anne asked, sliding a look to Florie, whose expression was that of someone who would not be swayed.
“Of course nae,” Florie stated. “There are other things: bairns, illness, threats. I dinnae see that any of those fit yer situation. But I ’ave heard rumors that there is a rivalry between ye and that Moyra lass.”
Anne couldn’t help but laugh. “For someone who rarely leaves her cottage, ye are well informed of what happens in the village.”
“I am,” Florie agreed. “I sit ’ere, in the sun and talk to anyone who passes by.” Her wrinkled face creased as a wide grin spread across her face. “When one is old, people will share more than they mean to.”
“It certainly sounds so,” Anne grumbled. “There is nae rivalry between Moyra and me. She seems to think there is because I rode to the village on a horse with Camden Lewis for Agnes’s burial.”
“The lass is intent on marrying the healer, whether he is amiable to it or nae,” Florie chuckled. “Feel badly for the lad.”
Anne stabbed the soft dirt harder than she meant to. “He is a fully grown man. If he wishes to, he is more than able to stop the flirtations. I think that he enjoys the attention.”
“True, some men do,” Florie said. “I ken the healer, he has seen about me several times. Seems the sort to move slowly, taking much too long to ponder.”
He’d certainly not seemed to hesitate before acting when he’d kissed her. Instinctively, she knew he’d not expected to initiate the kiss but instead, had been as surprised by what had happened as she was.
“If ye set yer mind to it, there will nae be a contest.”
Anne turned to give Florie a questioning look. “I dinnae have any intention of pursuing Camden Lewis. There are more than enough women in the village fawning over him.”
Florie held out her hand, palm up, seeds in the center. “Plant these first, dear. Two in each hole. And ensure to keep them at least three fingers apart. They’re a hearty sort, need barely any encouragement to grow.”
Carefully dropping a pair of seeds into each hole. Unbidden, her mind returned to Camden.
“I do wish to marry and start a family, Florie. But I’m afraid it may be too late for me. At times I am still hopeful, but for the most part I have accepted that it may never come to be.”
Florie frowned, her expression one of annoyance. “Ye are pretty, still young, and healthy. If ye are nae married it is because ye are nae looking. Complaining about it will nae help.”
The woman’s words made Anne lose her balance, and she went from a crouched position to falling back, landing on her backside.
Stunned into silence, she blinked several times, unable to form a comeback. What Florie said was true. Every reason she’d come up with for not finding love, a partner, and forming a family had been aimed at others.
It was possible that the reason men didn’t approach her was not because of Gowan’s threats, but because she’d not acted approachable. The sun warmed her back, and she continued to plant the tiny seeds.
“Florie. I think ye are right.” Anne let out a long breath waiting for Florie’s sassy comeback. But there was none.
“Ye can say it. Tell me I am the reason,” Anne insisted. At no response, she turned to Florie.
The woman’s head had lolled to the side, her lips were slightly parted, and her eyes were closed. A soft snore repeated in a steady pattern.