Hero Of The Flint Hills. Cassandra Austin

valley.

      “In spite of all that, school isn’t too bad, Papa,” Emily said, smiling an acknowledgment of Christian’s arrival. “I have lots of friends there. None so nice as Rose, of course. Will Rose be able to stay sometime this summer?”

      “I’m sure she’s planning on it, dear.” Hugh had nodded a greeting to Christian but hadn’t interrupted his daughter’s chatter. She was evidently catching him up on the past year.

      As he sipped the lemonade, Christian reflected on his family. They had remained close in spite of Felicia. Did she ever miss this sense of belonging or had she found something she valued more? Of course, Felicia had Emily nine months out of twelve. And Arlen nearly half the time. What Christian really wondered was if she ever missed her husband or stepson.

      He shook off the thoughts and studied their guest, Arlen’s addition to the family. She appeared to relax, dividing her attention between Emily, Hugh and the view below.

      Perhaps sensing his scrutiny, her eyes turned in his direction. He knew he should give her a friendly smile and turn his eyes elsewhere, but it wasn’t that easy. She was lovely to look at. Small perfect features were surrounded by shining chestnut hair, upswept and anchored so securely only a few stray wisps had come loose during the wagon ride. Hazel eyes, almost green in the sunlight, watched him questioningly, as if she tried to read his thoughts and failed. If she was after Arlen for his money, he was the one she needed to worry about. Had she recognized that already?

      “Did you put Lynnette’s trunk in my room, Christian?”

      Christian pulled his gaze from Lynnette to Emily. “Arlen’s room,” he answered.

      “Arlen will be gone a great deal,” Hugh interjected. “When he’s home, he’ll share his brother’s room.”

      “I didn’t know which bags were whose so they’re all on the landing,” Christian said.

      “Thank you,” Lynnette said. “For moving my things and for making room for me.”

      Christian caught himself gazing at her again. He drank the rest of the lemonade quickly, setting his glass beside Emily’s chair. “Great to have you home, little sister,” he whispered, bending close to her ear. He kissed her temple, stealing a glance at Lynnette over the top of her head. As he expected, she averted her eyes, embarrassed that he would kiss his sister. Poor Arlen, he thought, as he left the balcony.

      Lynnette chewed on her lower lip, trying to quash her reaction to Christian’s presence. The atmosphere had changed the moment he entered the balcony. He was different from the businessmen she was used to. His manner of dress, his long hair, these made the writer in her curious.

      She had been trying to explain away her interest in him when he kissed his sister. The sight of those full lips as he bent toward Emily sent butterflies loose in her stomach. She couldn’t remember when she had ever had such a reaction. Surely it was the long trip, the upsetting change in her situation.

      “Are you ready to see your room and unpack?” Emily asked.

      “I believe so,” she answered gratefully. “Just let me return my glass to the kitchen and thank Martha.” She stood and turned toward Hugh. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay the summer.”

      “That’s quite all right. Leave your glasses on the tray. I’ll take care of them. You two run along and rest before dinner.”

      “Thanks, Papa.” Emily ran to give him a hug before leading Lynnette into the house. The stairs were all that separated the living room from the dining room, and, as they started up, Lynnette looked over the banister at a lovely simple table with six straightback chairs.

      “The stairs are in the center of the house,” Emily explained. “There are four rooms upstairs, one in each corner.”

      The stairs emerged onto a narrow landing. A railing that matched the banisters circled the stairwell. “That’s your room.” Emily pointed to a door to the right. “Papa and I get the great view. I hope you don’t mind.”

      “I’m sure it’s fine,” Lynnette said.

      Emily paused by the collection of valises, picking one to take to her room. “I’m over here,” she said. “If you need anything, just knock.”

      “Thank you, Emily. Have a good rest” She watched the girl go into her room. If Christian and Arlen’s rooms were to the back of the house, that must be Christian’s door. She quickly turned and noted Hugh’s door as well. She didn’t care which room was Christian’s.

      She turned the knob to Arlen’s door and pushed it open. Her trunk stood just inside. She gathered up her valises and brought them in with her, plunking them down on top of her trunk before she turned to look around.

      The room was large, as she had expected. A star quilt in shades of pink and green covered the four-poster bed, giving the room its only color. The tops of the dresser and writing desk were bare except for oil lamps. The drapes that could be drawn across the balcony doors were an eggshell white. Only two pictures were on the wall, one a family portrait, the other a garden scene in hazy, subdued colors.

      Did this colorless room reflect Arlen’s tastes? She was sure the pink and green quilt wasn’t his. She decided she shouldn’t make too much of it. Perhaps the quilt replaced one of even brighter hues. She crossed to the writing desk, opening the top drawer. It was stuffed with items that normally would have cluttered a desktop. Lynnette smiled to herself as she closed the drawer. He had cleared the top for her.

      A quick check of the dresser revealed that he had emptied more than half of the drawers for her belongings, evidently moving his necessities to Christian’s room. She went to work, unpacking her bags and the trunk. She tried to conjure up some feeling of intimacy with Arlen as she put her undergarments away where his had recently been stored, but she didn’t feel any different than she would moving into a hotel room. She brushed it off as a result of his items having been removed before her arrival. There was very little here to remind her of Arlen.

      She left a few of her things in the trunk for storage and shoved it against the wall. Once everything else was put away, she went to the balcony. It was smaller than the one downstairs, probably no more than five feet square. She stepped to the railing and let her eyes follow the twisting trail to the top of the hill.

      To her left and right was the roof itself, with Christian’s balcony rails visible beyond. She looked quickly in the other direction. She could see the corrals where the ledge, upon which most of the house was built, widened to accommodate them. Nearest the house was a square pen with a lone post of mysterious purpose in the middle. She could see part of the barn. Fascinated, she considered going down to explore but knew dinner would be served shortly.

      Turning back into her room, she eyed the quiltcovered bed. She should lie down and rest before dinner as Hugh had suggested, but it didn’t sound attractive. Closing her eyes would bring forth images of her father dying, her lost home, her friend, Amanda, so far away. She felt a need to stay busy.

      A china basin with matching pitcher sat on a shaving stand. Relieved to find the pitcher full, she quickly washed her face and fixed her hair.

      Coming down the stairs was a marvelous experience. She could look down on the rustic living room or the simple dining room or out the tall glass door a few feet from the base of the stairs onto the valley below. The latter commanded most of Lynnette’s attention. She couldn’t resist stepping out on this center, square balcony and looking across the valley again. She wasn’t sure if it was the colors, the feeling of flight, or the sheer openness that most attracted her. If she would be allowed to spend all summer on one of these balconies, she knew she would be happy here.

      “It’s quite a view, isn’t it?” Hugh’s voice startled her, and she turned to find him on the corner balcony off the dining room.

      “It’s lovely,” she said.

      “That’s precisely why I chose the back of the house for my study. I’d never get any work done as long as I could