Does she not want to talk to me? Or can’t she?
Only when I step outside do I notice that it’s started to rain. I shove the phone back into my jeans, and at that moment it rings.
Thank God!
I answer the call hastily. ‘Nyla, finally! Where are you?’
‘Hello?’ a male voice asks. ‘Am I speaking to Jaden Reynolds?’
It takes me a moment to understand that it isn’t Nyla on the other end of the line.
Pressing the phone to my ear, I cross the forecourt of the clinic. ‘Yeah, that’s me.’
The man clears his throat. ‘I’m calling about the property you’re selling. It’s exactly what I’m looking for, I just have a few questions that I…’
‘The house isn’t for sale anymore,’ I say, even though I haven’t actually thought about it yet. Still, it feels good to say the words. Right.
I’m going to keep it. It’s part of this life that can still come true. If Nyla still wants me.
‘You’ve already found a buyer?’ Even though the rain is drumming harder and harder on the asphalt, I can hear the caller’s disappointment. ‘If the contract hasn’t been signed yet, I’d like to make an offer. One you definitely won’t be able to refuse.’
‘Sorry, you’re too late,’ I say quickly and get into the car. The man thanks me and says goodbye while I start the engine.
‘Where are you, Nyla?’ I murmur, switch on the windshield wipers, and look around. ‘What are you doing?’
Damn, she could be anywhere.
All churned up inside, I think about where I should look next while the rain beats louder and louder against the windshield. The sound reminds me of that one day when Nyla and I dancedin the rain. Right here, where I’m parked now, unsure which direction I should drive.
I could catch a cold. Why should I risk that? she asked me when I reached out my hand to her, inviting her to leave her dry spot under the awning.
She didn’t want to get wet, not for anything. So whatever Nyla has been doing until now, the weather will drive her home.
I’ll wait for her there, but first I should swing by Camee’s house to take down the sign before I have to turn away even more interested buyers.
Twenty-five minutes later I pull up behind a van that’s blocking the parking space in front of the house. It’s still pouring with rain; I pull my jacket over my head and get out.
I only take a few steps before I stop short.
The nettles that were still lining the paving stones yesterday are gone. So is the thornbush on the left side of the house, and the offshoots of the hedge that had reached far into the garden.
I tear the now-soaked For Sale sign off the chair and step onto the property. There I discover garbage bags stuffed with garden waste and a pile of gathered branches.
Confused, I let my arms drop. The hood that has so far protected me from the rain slips down. My hair is instantly soaked, raindrops running down my face.
And then I see her. Kneeling in the pouring rain on the crooked patio slabs, a bucket beside her, into which she is collecting moss that she is painstakingly scraping out of the gaps. Her arms are scratched and smeared with dirt, her cheeks are glowing.
I step up beside her. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
She doesn’t start, just freezes for a moment and then slowly lifts her head to look at me. Our eyes meet. ‘I’m creating Lilly’s garden.’
‘In this weather? Why?’
A smile flashes across her beautiful face. ‘Because it’s what we wanted to do.’
Yes, we did, but that was before… Distracted, I look around, still not understanding.
Now she gets up and wipes her hands on her soaking wet trousers. Then she fixes her eyes on me. ‘I’m not going to force you to let them examine you,’ she says, blinking hard. ‘But I’m also not going to stop holding on to what we promised each other.’
