Winter descends upon Avonlea, and news of an impending dark war arrives within a letter from her absent father. Greer now faces a tumultuous choice: remain in her war struck village with her secret lover or flee with a wealthy mysterious man for pro...
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There was a playfulness in nature.
And in the skies, woodland and soil.
The warmth of the valley breeze hugged me sweetly as I stood perched on the porch of a half-timbered cottage in the village, with its earthy brownish hues and climbing vines of ivy. I had come to purchase blooming wildflowers in clay pots that I had seen line the railing, but stopped to listen to a conversation I heard between two ladies carelessly unaware of their environment.
From what I could gather, there was word of some young, rich and mentionably handsome man who came to Avonlea seeking a bride to treasure. They spoke with much excitement at the news, desperate to spew information at each other of their knowledge on the town's gossip. For their age I found it a bit pitiful, given whichever jewel the gentleman gave his hand in marriage would be some untouched beauty that matched his youth and surely not widowed women who already lived and experienced what life had to offer. What sense did it make to care?
It didn't matter anyway. There were many decent, dashing suitors in Avonlea. I was not bothered to be head over heels for Lord Beaumont as they called him. For the moments I listened all they spoke of were his fortunes and title, and never of his character— a striking red flag to me. My father would love him though.
"Whoever he choses to marry is a lucky girl, indeed." Said one.
I kept my position on the porch as they walked away together but their conversation never left me. Even on my journey home my thoughts wielded me. Luckily I had the valley boy to shift my attention. It wasn't long after I arrived near the hills of greenery that we stumbled in each other's path.
With hands roughened by labor and a heart softened by love, I watched as Ash approached me. The soft melody of a lute played by a wandering minstrel in the distance seemed to match his affections.
"Oh," I stated in quiet surprise. The mere sight of him alone was something I never quite got used to. "Is there a reason your mouth remains agape?" Was my manner of playing off the startle, by humoring myself with the look on his face.
"For you." Ash grinned wolfishly, as if he was a predator looking at its prey. I tended to shrivel under his gaze.
I walked past him, small gravel crunching beneath my shoes. The air was filled with the sweet scent of lavender and the gentle hum of bees busy at work.
"When will you stop flirting? It is very inappropriate."
"When the yearning and longing stops." I could have sworn I heard him say from the back of me. Suddenly the country wind stopped blowing, and the sound of nearby pigeons were no more.
"I do not know what you mean."
"You know exactly." He said, marbled brown eyes burning holes into mine. My breath hitched in my throat.
"You know I am to marry." I reminded. I stood amidst the wildflowers with brown hair cascading in untamed waves down my back. I wore a simple dress that day, woven from the finest threads of the village loom. The baskets of hibiscuses I picked up earlier suddenly felt heavy in my hands.
"I only ask that you allow me the chance to show you... that I am not a boy."
With the meadow as our witness and the fading sunlight casting a warm, amber hue upon us, Ash's words floated through the air. I was touched by his sincerity and met his gaze with one of tenderness, eager to know what would come next.
"My father would never allow it." I told him as he drew me in closer, a calloused hand cusped to my cheek. "No one can know of your love for me. It will draw questions."
His weathered face, usually marked by the struggles of his laborious life, softened.
