But the words fell flat, untrue. “He does,” I said out loud. Why else would he have bought this ring?

Because, another, quieter voice inside said, he can’t stand to lose you.

There was a difference between not wanting to lose someone and loving someone.

I took the ring from the box and stared at it, then placed it back into the box. I didn’t know which voice to listen to, and I wanted to scream. Instead, I sat at the dining room table and tore a fresh sheet of cotton watercolor paper from the pad. With colored pencils in my hand, I began to draw. This time—yes, this time—I wanted to draw and paint an entire field of flowers, a plethora of flowers, so many of them that I wouldn’t be able to count them. I began; sometimes that is the best I can do: begin.

My cell phone rang, startling me. I glanced at the screen, having already decided I wouldn’t answer it if it was Rusty.

Hutch.

“Hey.” My voice came out with a crack in the middle of the word.

“You okay?”

“Yep, and you?”

“Can you come meet me at the library?”

“Sure … why?”

“I want to show you something.”

“On my way,” I said.

I looked at the clock and realized I’d drawn my way into the midmorning with flowers blooming in vivid color on cream paper.

Before I left for the library, I walked over to the Summer House, finding Birdie on the back porch.

“Good morning,” I said, the screen door slamming behind me. “Good late morning.” I sat across from her, and she put down the novel she was reading.

“You okay this morning?” She placed her book on the side table and leaned forward to gaze at me in that way that unsettles and soothes simultaneously.

“I’m better than I was. I’m sorry I didn’t come over for breakfast, I got carried away with a drawing and …”

She held up her hand. “Oh, honey, I understand. No worries.”

“Did you have fun on your … date yesterday?” I tried not to smile through the words, but of course I did.

She made a shooing motion with her hands, as if a swarm of nonsense words had flown into the porch.

“How long have y’all been going out? I thought it was such a coincidence he was here and really it wasn’t, was it?”

“We’ve tried to date before and it hasn’t worked, but we’re older now.” She laughed. “Much older, and we’ve been dear friends for what seems a hundred years, so maybe … this time.”

I nodded. “It’s really nice.”

“Yes,” she said, pausing. “It is. Love really is a surprise sometimes.”

“A surprise. Yes.” I settled back into the chair. “Well, right now I’m on my way to the library. I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?”