Moon Garden. V. J. Banis

to have exposed herself as such a fool before a perfect stranger.

      “I’m sorry.” She looked down at her shoes. “I must have been mistaken.”

      “No, it is I who am sorry. I would like to have seen you before. I wish this were only one of many meetings, and that we were already well enough acquainted that you wouldn’t look as if you would jump into the river if I tried to touch you.”

      She tried not to be flattered too much by that remark, and then not to laugh as she envisioned what he had described, but despite herself, the corners of her mouth turned up.

      “That’s better.” He put his hand on her arm, and she did in fact start a little, but she did not jump into the water. “Come on, I’ll walk you part way back to the house.”

      She let him direct her up the path, down which she had just come, not because she was in such a hurry to get back to the house, but because she was too embarrassed to protest.

      “What were you looking for?” she asked, trying to fill the empty space between them.

      “When?”

      “Just now. At the landing.”

      He chuckled. “Your imagination must be working overtime.”

      She stiffened. It was beginning to look as if nothing that she observed was real. She saw that the door was locked and it was not. She heard voices, but there was no one there. She saw Mr. Parker bending over looking for something, but he wasn’t.

      “You were,” she said sharply, very sharply.

      “Hey, are you angry?” He stopped short to look down at her, which only left her embarrassed over her sharp tongue. She looked away from him. “Look,” he said, “I was trespassing and I apologize for that. It’s such a pretty spot, very peaceful. When you came up I was watching some sort of water bug having a swim. I suppose it must have looked to you like I was hunting for something. End of quarrel?”

      “I didn’t mean to quarrel. I am sorry.”

      “Now don’t go looking tortured, either” he said, “everybody isn’t waiting to slap you into a dungeon, you know.”

      She laughed, because he was pleasant, and she forgot about the landing and the way he had seemed to be looking for something.

      “It is Ellen, isn’t it?” he asked as they climbed. He was careful to push any threatening branches out of her way.

      She looked up at him. “Yes. How did you know?”

      “Oh, we’ve all been hearing about you, and that you were coming for a visit.”

      Her face reddened, and she looked straight forward again. And, she thought, in an agony of mortification, you’ve heard why my visit was necessary, and how I’ve spent my last year. She thought of yesterday, when she had looked from her window and seen the yellow cottage. She had thought then someone was watching. Had he said to someone within, “That must be her, the crazy niece.”

      “Careful,” he said, holding her arm firmly and putting his free arm about her. She had stumbled on the tree root. “Hey, you’re shaking.”

      “I’m not,” she said quickly, and realized that sounded really silly, anyone with a right mind could see she was shaking like a leaf.

      But how could she have explained that, apart from her father, no man had ever put his arm about her, even to keep her from falling. That she had never had an opportunity to learn to flirt, as he seemed to be flirting with her.

      As it turned out there was no need to explain, because they had come into the clearing where the paths separated, and there, coming down the path from Minna’s house, was Dawson Elliott.

      He looked relieved to see her, too relieved, she thought, and then at once she told herself, Oh, God, you’re seeing something nasty in everything, and that isn’t good.

      He was, however, clearly less happy to see Ken Parker. The two men eyed each other in a manner that was not at all friendly. Ellen saw too that Dawson noticed Ken’s arm, still about her waist. Ken did not hasten to remove it, and she could not help feeling a little pleased at that.

      There was an awkward silence. Dawson said, “Hello, I was just coming to see if you were down this way.”

      “Why?” she asked.

      He blushed, and she saw at once that she was not being too suspicious. That he had been worrying about her, that he thought she was not safe on her own. He was watching over her, and she didn’t like it. She had done with that when she left Lawndale.

      Hadn’t she?

      “It’s nearly lunchtime,” he said, but not soon enough to save the moment. He turned his attention on the young man with her. “Hello, Parker.”

      Kan nodded, and said, curtly, “Dawson.”

      “Then you know one another,” Ellen said.

      “Oh yes,” Dawson said, sounding not very pleased. “We know one another. Fellow writers, so it would seem.”

      Ken released her finally. “I don’t want to hold you up from lunch. I’ve enjoyed showing you the river, Miss Miles. I trust I’ll have the pleasure again.”

      His eyes sparkled. She said, “Since we live so close, it’s almost inevitable, isn’t it?”

      “I hope so.” She thought he looked genuinely pleased at the prospect. He bent to kiss the back of her hand in a courtly fashion.

      “What was he doing at the river?” Dawson asked when he had gone.

      She shrugged. “I have no idea.” She went past him and started back for the house. She felt vaguely annoyed with Dawson for watching over her, as she was sure he was doing. Keeping an eye on her, was probably the way he and her aunt put it.

      In any event, she was disinclined to discuss Ken Parker with him. Mr. Parker was very much in her thoughts, but they were thoughts she preferred to keep to herself.

      He was certainly the most exciting man she had ever met. Not, in fact, that she had met so very many men. Her parents between them had kept her insulated from life. And then there had been Dr. Hansen, who didn’t count, since his interest in her had been strictly professional.

      And Dawson? He was the sort of man whose interest in anyone would be strictly to his own best interests.

      But she had gotten an impression that Ken Parker was interested in her, and with him there surely could be no question of opportunism,

      And that very exciting idea she did not care to discuss with Dawson.