Free Home to Eden by Dallas Schulze

forget was only going to make her remember more. She rubbed her fingertips over her palm again, and tried not to think of the awareness she'd felt when he took her hand.
    Looking around the garden, she tried to regain some of her earlier sense of elation. She should be happy. She had a fabulous new job. Her engagement was safe. Everything was going just the way she wanted. Life was practically perfect. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
    Lowering her gaze, she saw that the green bug was still perched on the rose leaf. He was dining on a smaller winged creature, which answered the question of his dietary preferences. As she watched, he tilted his head and she had the distinct impression that he was looking up at her. She couldn't help but think that he looked smugly triumphant.

Chapter 5

    Late suddenly became aware of a prickling sensation along the back of her neck. She'd been on her hands and knees, halfway under a rose bush, scraping her hand through the layers of half-rotted leaves in search of a label that might give her a clue to the plant's identity. But she couldn't escape the feeling that she was being watched. Moving carefully, in deference to the wild tangle of canes that surrounded her, she backed out from under the plant. Turning, she sat down in the grassy path.
    A very little girl and a very large dog stood a few feet away, watching her with nearly identical expressions of interest. Kate regarded them both warily. She didn't have much experience with either children or dogs. As far as she knew, one was prone to tears and the other was prone to bite.
    "Hello," she said when neither of her visitors showed any inclination to speak.
    "Hello." The child offered a friendly smile along with the greeting. The dog simply continued to look at her. They were an odd pair, Kate thought. The little girl was as delicately pretty as a china doll, with big blue eyes and a short cap of wispy blond hair that framed her fragile features. The dog, on the other hand, was not only large, he was, quite possibly, the ugliest animal she'd ever seen in her life. His coat was the exact color of steel wool and looked just about as soft. He was built along the stocky lines of a draft horse and was nearly as large.
    "I'm Laura and this is Leroy.'' The child patted the dog on the head.
    "Leroy?" The name seemed improbable.
    "Like in the old song. You know, bad, bad Leroy Brown. Meaner than a junkyard dog?' Only Leroy isn't mean at all. Are you?"
    She leaned against the dog, who supported her weight without effort. Kate was inclined to think he could support a small building without exerting himself. Laura looked at her, her wide blue eyes questioning.
    "You're the lady who's going to fix up Harry's yard, aren't you?"
    "I'm going to try to." Aware that she hadn't exactly done her part in the introductions, she smiled at the child. "I'm Kate."
    "I know. Nick told me your name. He said you were going to make everything pretty but I think it's pretty already." It was evident that she viewed any possible changes with suspicion.
    "I think it's pretty, too, but it can be even prettier."
    Laura looked politely doubtful and changed the subject. "What were you looking for under the rosebush?"
    "I was hoping to find a label that would tell me the plant's name."
    Laura looked surprised. "It's a rose," she told Kate kindly.
    "Yes, I know that." Kate bit back a smile. "I want to know what kind of rose it is."
    "You mean whether it's white or red?"
    "More or less." This didn't seem the time to go into an explanation of alba versus damascus. "Are you visiting Harry?" she asked.
    "I live next door." Laura waved one small hand toward the north. "Harry lets me come over here to play when I want."
    "How long have you and...Leroy lived next door?" Kate couldn't quite shake the feeling that the big dog was eyeing her with dislike.
    "I've lived next door forever. Since I was a baby." Laura managed to make it sound like that had been centuries ago.