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Wildflower
Jennifer Rebecca
Prologue
Zelda
UNEXPECTED
Peace. That’s what I feel when I stand here, in the middle of my fields of wild lavender.
When I landed here twenty years ago, I never expected to find something so beautiful growing wild and free, up the hillside and through the harsh woods. I wasn’t sure anything would grow or thrive here at all. Alaska isn’t exactly known for being friendly and welcoming, what with the bears and the harsh winters.
But I took one look at the seas of purple flowers dancing in the breeze and I vowed, then and there, that my daughters would grow here—wild and free—just like the wild lavender.
I sacrificed and worked my fingers to the bone to make sure they could thrive and grow into exactly who they were meant to be and not forced into the small confines of what someone else wanted for them or expected of them. It was not without help either. Hank and the rest of the town did their best to help me raise my daughters. And I think I’ve done just that.
Audrey, Merritt, and Parker are all strong, beautiful, and free, just like my beautiful wildflowers. Although, even I have to admit that my baby, Merritt, is wilder than anything and I like to think that any gray in my dark hair is all her doing.
I drop my old wicker basket and kneel down in the dirt beside it. There’s something about the soil, the sun in the gray sky, the trees around us and the bird song of spring that grounds me. I pick up my shears out of my basket and gently clip the stalks so as not to harm the plants. These hardy flowers will scent the lotions and soaps that I sell online and ship all over the world.
A rabbit hops past me before continuing on through the fields and into the woods. It’s not uncommon to see wildlife in these fields even though I’m not that far from my small house that sits at the top of the hill.
I hear the caw of the eagle before I see it and the forest and fields around me seem to freeze. Silence is one of nature’s many ways to protect itself from predators, a lesson I learned more than twenty years ago when my husband would scream in my face for some imagined slight I gave him, something I inevitably did wrong. Whether it was buying the wrong laundry detergent or ruining his life by getting pregnant at sixteen. He had many of them and I did my best to pretend that all was well for both me and my daughters when it was anything but.
I see a flash of golden wings as an eagle swoops down and snatches the rabbit in its claws before flying away, back to share its meal with its mate. While harsh, it’s not unexpected here and I do my best to push it out of my mind.
I slowly make my way through the plants and listen to the bees buzzing around me as we all get what we need from the plants that grow up my hillside. I love these bees. I’ve even started to dabble in beekeeping and honey making.
The sun is high in the sky now and I don’t know how long I’ve been here but I still my mind and my body when I realize the bees have stopped buzzing and the birds are no longer singing. Mother nature is reminding me that I need to be more cognizant of my surroundings, even on my quiet hillside. I’ve taken for granted the safety I feel here when I’m lost in my woods. But I need to remember that safety is not a tangible thing—at least not for me.
“Hello there,” a deep, accented voice says from behind me, and I turn around quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m—”
I don’t know what he was going to say but I don’t stick around to find out. Something comes over me—something from a long ago, not forgotten trauma, and the life of a person that I promised myself I wouldn’t live ever again.
I drop my favorite basket to the hard earth and like the rabbit, I run, racing back up the hillside to my little blue house, to my safety.
And as I go, I think I hear the smooth British voice of the man in my refuge say with a smile in his voice, “Now that was unexpected but not at all unwelcome.”
Chapter 1
Court
HE WHO DARES, WINS
“Now that was unexpected but not at all unwelcome,” I mutter to myself as the petite brunette races back up the hill. I’m assuming that’s the way she came from since I didn’t encounter anyone on my trek in from the woods.
Something catches my eye and I see a tattered wicker basket with a few clipped stalks of the purple flowers that grow like weeds on the hillside, along with a set of small clippers. I move to the basket, dropped by the mystery woman when she bolted, and pick it up. I trace my fingertips over the hearty flowers and wonder what the woman was doing here. If I’m being honest with myself, a lot of my interest has to do with how beautiful she is but also why she ran from me. I’m not exactly an unknown. Not to pat myself on the back too hard, but my mug is one that’s on cable channels on tellies all over the world. Most women would be eager to make my acquaintance but this one was not. And if I’m continuing my truth parade, I’d also admit that’s a good deal of the appeal.
I was not looking forward to this trip to Alaska. I’ve been telling the producers for months that I need a break. I’m steadfastly approaching the burnout stage. So when they asked me to go meet with the area’s SAR, Search and Rescue, team for my show, Courting Wild, I wanted to tell them all to fuck off. But there was something telling me not to.
What was one more trip before I took a vacation?
Now I’m so glad that I did because my gut is telling me that I need to find out more about my mystery woman. And I always trust my gut. It saved me more times than I can count when I was with the Special Air Service.
With a smile on my face that hasn’t felt genuine in a long time, I make my way up the hill. An old farmhouse sits just past the edge of the woods. It has a neatly tended vegetable garden off a back door and its clapboard siding is painted a deep gray blue. It’s not new but it’s cozy, lived in. It’s the kind of house that a family lives in and that makes me wonder if she has a man in her life. For some strange reason, that makes a pit form in my belly.
I round the side of the house just in time to see my mystery woman slam the front door behind her as she races down the steps from the porch at a breakneck speed and jumps in an old Wagoneer that’s definitely seen better days.
