Indian
Summer was re-issued on
Friday, September 8, 2017. This sweeping historical novel is a must
read! After Irena's wedding, Gabriella and Manuel are left alone
for a short time. She has some questions for him, but isn't sure how
to ask.
"You've a
question in your eyes, my love."
I reddened,
dropping my gaze. "Am I that obvious?"
"Only to me.
Now what is it? There should be no secrets between us."
I
pursed my lips and thought of the best way to phrase it. "Well,
you know much about me having known my father for so long, but
I know so very little about you. Much of what you told me just now,
it was about your aunt. Tell me of you."
He smiled
pensively. "Very well, and where shall I start?" It was
more a rhetorical question, but I decided to answer him in any case.
"You
could begin with telling me your age." I said, suddenly becoming
interested in my shoes. To rid myself of fear, I tossed my head back,
looking him squarely in the eye.
His
contagious laughter filled the town, echoing off the buildings. "Ah,
Bella, I thought you wanted the confessions of all my sins or
something the way you're acting. My age? Well I'm older than you but
not old enough to be your father."
I
stamped my foot, startling the horses. "I'm being serious! You
know much about me, nearly my life's story. I know you're an orphan
and that you love me and—that you're well appointed."
He
laughed even louder. "What a minx you are to say a thing like
that! All right, you win. First, you make a guess. How old do you
think I am?"
I looked at him
appraisingly, considering. "Well, when I first met you, I
considered you an old man. I would have said a few months ago that
you were in your thirties."
His laughter
subsided, a twinkle in his eye."And now?"
I thought again.
"Well when you laugh it takes many years off you. But when
you're serious, it adds a few years. So I shall go with an average,
somewhere in the middle and say three and twenty?"
"Well,
I could be, but then again, perhaps not. You've not considered
everything, my sweet." He ticked the points off on his fingers,
dropping the reins. The mares stopped moving as soon has he set them
down.
"First,
I'm a trusted aide to your father. Second, I'm extremely well
educated and I speak several languages fluently."
He
winked at me and I tapped him with my parasol lightly on the knee.
"And
third?"
He
considered a moment. "There is no third. No, I think we have
covered the salient points. So, do you still think me three and
twenty?"
"Well,
given the evidence as listed, I would have to say more like three and
thirty." I nodded to emphasize as if I meant it.
His
reaction was animated and hilarious. "Three and thirty? Th—"
He was incapable of speech for a long time, then very red in the
face, he sputtered. "Is that what you really think? What kind of
old lecher do you think I am?"
I
suppressed a giggle with great difficulty. "I don't think you an
old lecher in the least! But if a man of three and thirty were
interested in a young lady of fifteen, he would certainly be one. I
was teasing, my love. I don't think you're above three and twenty as
I originally said." So saying, I sat quietly, waiting for him to
speak.
"Well, as I
tire of this game, I will tell you."
"You only
tire of it because you're coming out poorly." I smiled sweetly.
He
waved it off as unimportant. "Be that as it may, and I don't
deny that's my motivation in part. I also must get you home soon.
Very well, I'm not three and thirty, nor am I three and twenty. Given
the ability to speak several languages fluently, as well as some
Indian dialects of this area, I worked first as an interpreter. Then
I became a liaison. Having other necessary talents, I obtained my
position with your father at the ripe old age of seventeen. So
therefore, my sweet, I'm a mere child myself."
I
counted up the years he had worked for my father.
"You're
one and twenty!?" I hugged him, regardless of the looks we drew.
His smile widened
as he held me closely. "Why is that so wonderful?"
"Well
it's silly, really," I giggled, blushing deep red to the roots
of my hair. "But I didn't want you to be too old, for fear you
would tire of me since I'm still so young."
He
took my hands in his. "I assure you, Gabriella, I'd never tire
of you were I three and forty."
©
2017 Dellani Oakes
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