Free Rainsinger by Barbara Samuel, Ruth Wind Page B

he had sex appeal. Good grief. If he was any sexier, women would faint in the streets.
    He was a man who ought to be in the movies. Winona could just see it—a bare-chested Daniel on the big screen, allowing hints of that poignant loneliness to show in his liquid eyes, letting that devastating grin break the fierceness of his face.
    He’d be a box-office smash.
    Below, in the orchard, Joleen started to sing a church song that had been their father’s favorite—“Rock of Ages.” Winona smiled softly, wondering if Joleen realized what tune she sang. Here in the safety of the isolated grove, the girl had taken off the eternally present baseball cap. Her badly chopped hair sprang in unfortunate spikes all over her head.
    That was another problem. How could Winona even begin to entertain notions of intimacies with Daniel with Joleen right here, observing everything and obviously smitten? It would be a rather uncomfortable situation, to say the least.
    “When are you going to let me take you to town to get that mop properly cut?” Winona called, leaning against the trunk of the tree.
    Joleen glanced up. “Never, never, never, my sweet,” she sang, rearranging the flowers in her hands. “It has to grow out by itself.”
    “You have no idea how hot the sun gets here. Another month, and you’ll hate having to wear a hat all the time.”
    “So, I’ll wear a bandanna, instead.”
    “What about the glasses?” Winona plucked a leaf and held it to the light, looking at the beautiful structure of veins within. “You can let me order a better-looking pair now, can’t you?”
    Joleen shook her head.
    Winona climbed out of the tree and squatted next to her sister. “How do you like being here?” she asked.
    “Why?” Joleen looked up, alarmed. “Do we have to leave?”
    “No, not at all. I was just wondering.”
    “I love it here,” Joleen said after a minute. She rubbed the fine, pale hair on her head. “It makes me feel okay sometimes.”
    Winona inclined her head, aching for her sister. “Will you at least take off the glasses in the orchard? No one can see you here.”
    Joleen shook her head wordlessly and lifted the almost colorless eyes to the horizon, as if in communication with something only she could see.
    Their parents, probably. Winona sat down and plucked one of the daisies for herself, examining the way the petals grew from the middle. “They wouldn’t want you to punish yourself like this, sweetheart.”
    Without a word, Joleen picked up her cap and put it on, then walked away, carrying the flowers with her.
    “Don’t forget lunch!” Winona called after her.
    Joleen waved.
    With a sigh, Winona fell backward and looked up at the sky through the tracery of branches and leaves above. The deep, bright blue was an astonishing color, almost indescribable, the color of the sky on picture postcards. It was, she knew, because the air was dry. Too dry.
    It was bad for the orchard, but good for Joleen, who had a fear of storms since the accident, which had taken place on a rainy highway. Aloud, Winona appealed to those beings who ruled the bright sky. “Can’t you find some way to let me help her?”
    “Maybe.”
    Winona made a startled noise and looked to her right, where Daniel stood, smiling over answering her appeal to the heavens. If only he knew just how well he answered her prayers, Winona thought with the now-familiar tingle rushing over her skin at the sight of him.
    He wore a plain, blue T-shirt and jeans, his ever-present tennis shoes on his feet. Nothing uncommon in his dress, that was sure.
    It was the way he made it all look so uncommon that thrilled her. The simple cotton shirt clung to square, broad shoulders and followed the lean lines of his torso to narrow hips. His dark skin gleamed in the bright day, as smooth as polished stones. But it was his face that made her heart catch, those bold cheekbones and blade of a nose, the mouth so sinfully rich, turned down ever so slightly at the