Free Love's First Bloom by Delia Parr Page A

replied. “She’s nearly eighty now. Lived all her life in the village, but still hasn’t given up her favorite pastime, I’m afraid.” He met her gaze of curiosity with a bit of a grimace. “She’s a relentless matchmaker.”
    When Ruth stiffened, he patted her arm. “Don’t worry. She’s still too determined to make sure she introduces me to someone so I marry again to bother you, although that may change once she finally meets you. And in the meantime, you shouldn’t worry about Mr. Spencer bothering you when you’re working on your garden, either,” he offered when they stopped at the end of the bridge.
    She let go of his arm. “Oh?” she prompted, anxious to learn more about the man.
    “He stopped by the parsonage yesterday to tell me that he wouldn’t be attending services until he was more fully recovered. I’d like to think that he was sincere, but in truth, he was so adamant about how much he valued his privacy while he was recuperating, I think he was more interested in making certain I wouldn’t drop by to invite him to join the congregation. He really doesn’t seem to want any visitors at all.”
    “He does appear to be rather obsessed with his privacy,” she seconded.
    He raised a brow. “Then you’ve spoken with him.”
    She nodded and moistened her lips. “Just this morning. Briefly.”
    “I thought I spied you talking with someone, but you were just a bit too far away for me to know for certain. At least you now know that you won’t have to worry about trying to find another place for your garden.”
    “But how would you know he agreed to let me—?”
    “I took the liberty of making certain he understood that you might need a bit of privacy yourself, and he should think long and hard before he tried to keep a poor young widow away from her garden.”
    “But why would you … I mean, I appreciate that you spoke up for me, but why would you do that?”
    He grinned a bit sheepishly. “When I was first called to my ministry here many years ago, Jane Canfield always made certain there were flowers at Sunday services. I thought I might convince you to do the same.”
    “Of course … assuming I actually get to put some plants into the ground,” she replied, but she felt guilty for not telling him that she planned to no longer be here when the plants actually had flowers in full bloom.
    “Well, you don’t have to worry about Mr. Spencer stopping you. Before he left the parsonage, he assured me that he wouldn’t mind at all if you did your gardening there.” He looked over her head for a moment and waved at someone on the other side of Main Street before glancing back at Ruth. “I’m sorry. I really do need to talk to Mr. Landrus now that he’s spotted me. Would you mind awfully much if I left you here?”
    “Not at all,” she said.
    While he crossed the street, she turned and clomped down the alley. “Jake Spencer, you’re a miserable man. Just because you’re in a bit of pain, that’s no excuse for being so mean to me,” she grumbled, frustrated that she had practically begged him to let her return to her garden when he knew he had already promised Rev. Haines that she could.
    When she remembered that he had only agreed to her request after she had promised to do errands for him, she stomped even faster. “You’re more than miserable. You’re a conniving, manipulating … ugh!” she cried, too annoyed to think clearly enough to find just the right words to describe him.
    She slipped back into the storeroom and sat down on the bottom step of the staircase. “Poor man, indeed,” she said, loosening her laces and tugging off her boots. “If I had any other place on this earth where I could find a piece of ground for a garden and some privacy, I wouldn’t step one foot on that precious land in front of that cabin you rented. Not one.” She grabbed her boots with one hand and the railing with another before she started up the stairs.
    She had not climbed more than