Free Someone Like You by Elaine Coffman Page A

cottonwood tree overhead. The sun struck Susannah full in the face and made her eyes appear as warm and buttery as freshly pulled taffy. Her face and arms were tanned, but Reed knew that without clothes, the rest of her would be milky white. His gaze went back to her eyes. He liked her eyes and their long, soft lashes. He liked the fullness of her mouth, the heart shape of her face, the high cheekbones. Hell, he liked everything he saw.
    Susannah broke the spell.
    “Tell me about Boston…about your home.”
    “Boston’s a busy seaport, built around a harbor, so there are a multitude of ships coming and going, bringing people and goods from everywhere. It is much larger than any of the towns near here, and quite different. In the West things are spread out. In Boston we are a bit more cramped. The streets are crooked and narrow—some of them twist and change guises as they meander along. The houses are mostly brick or frame; the streets are cobbled. There is a lot of America’s history there.”
    “I remember studying the Revolution in school.”
    “The Tea Party?”
    She shrugged, turning her head to one side. “That, yes. And about Paul Revere…”
    “And his midnight ride.”
    She nodded. “You have snow there?”
    “Every winter. Sometimes the drifts come up so high, they cover the windows. Have you ever seen snow?”
    She shook her head. “Not like that. Twice, since I came to live with my aunts, we had snow. Once it was very light. It barely covered the ground. The second time it was a real honest-to-goodness blizzard with a foot or two of snow. It was so beautiful. My aunts made snow ice cream for me.”
    “Snow ice cream?”
    “Snow, vanilla, milk, and sugar. It was wonderful. I cried for days when the snow melted, knowing I’d never have snow ice cream again.”
    “When did you come here to live with your aunts?”
    “They are actually my great-aunts.”
    She had smoothly avoided his question. “I suppose it was hard to find yourself suddenly without parents.”
    “Yes, I’ve missed a lot of the normal things in life, things most people take for granted. I not only had no parents to grow up with, but I had no brothers or sisters either. I always envied people with large families.”
    “You were spared the fights.”
    “What I wouldn’t have given for a busted lip or a bruise—anything that would have shown that I belonged.”
    “At least you had your aunts.”
    “Oh, yes, and I am truly thankful for them. But they’re old, you know, and set in their ways. If there had been just one older child about… You know, I used to have dreams about growing up in a large family.” The enthusiasm seemed to drain from her face. “I soon learned no one is interested in dreams. Reality is the stuff of life here. Work, weather, sickness, religion—these are the things they understand. So, I let my dreams go and I watched them drift away like clouds driven by the wind.”
    “Where did you live before you came here?”
    She licked her lips as if her mouth had suddenly gone dry. “Louisiana.”
    “New Orleans?”
    “Yes.”
    “I was in New Orleans a couple of times. Now, down there they really know how to cook fish. Do you remember much about it? Do you recall the place where you lived?”
    Suddenly she grabbed up her bundle and sprang to her feet. She hurried across the log so fast, her feet barely skimmed its rough surface. As her feet touched dry ground, she turned angrily toward him. “Yes, I remember. I remember more than I’d like. Just once I’d like to forget, but there is always someone…someone like you, who won’t let me.”
    He came to his feet, tempering his next words, speaking softly, doing his best to be gentle. “What’s the matter? If I said something wrong, I apologize. I didn’t mean to cause you to dig up old and painful memories.”
    “How do you know I was digging up old and painful memories? Maybe I don’t like prying men who stick their noses in other people’s