Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [101]
“What I mean is ...” The wind rattled the wind chimes loudly and everyone’s attention was momentarily diverted. Bridget repeated, “What I mean is, you’re about to make a lifetime commitment. Do you love Jason?”
Traci shrugged, but did not turn around to look at Bridget. “Whatever that is.”
Paul winced. “The last person who said that ended up at the center of one of the most famous divorces of the twentieth century.”
Traci’s expression was puzzled.
“Prince Charles?” he prompted.
“Prince who?”
“He married Princess Diana,” added Lori helpfully, and Cici reached across to pat her daughter’s knee proudly.
“But before the wedding,” Lindsay said, “he did this famous interview where a reporter asked if he was in love with her, and the prince replied, ‘whatever that means.’ ”
“I think we all knew that was the beginning of the end,” Paul said sadly.
“Did he ever figure it out?” Traci wanted to know. “What love means?”
That had them all momentarily perplexed. “I don’t think anyone can tell you that,” Bridget ventured after a moment. “Not entirely. It means so many different things.”
“Like being willing to put someone else’s dreams ahead of your own,” Paul said quietly. “Even when you don’t think those dreams are the best thing for him.”
Lindsay looked at him sympathetically. “Or,” she added, with a small reminiscent smile, “like trying to keep someone’s voice alive in the only way you know how, years after she’s gone.”
Cici caught Noah’s gaze and held it gently. “Or like letting go of someone you love so that he can have a better life.”
Noah’s brows drew together briefly, and then eased. He smiled a little, uncertainly at first, and then with more confidence. “Yeah,” he said.
Lori glanced across at her mother with a lopsided grin. “Or like arranging a video date for your invalid daughter even though you’d rather chew your own arm off than have her fall in love with an Italian.”
Cici looked surprised, and then she returned the grin and caressed her daughter’s cheek.
“Or,” Bridget said softly, “giving someone a goat.”
They all turned to look at her, and then Noah suddenly sprang to his feet. “Man!” he exclaimed. “I forgot to let the animals out of the barn!”
“Listen.” Richard had been so quiet in the shadows of the steps that they had almost forgotten he was there. He stood slowly. “What is that sound?”
Lindsay heard it first—a distant rushing, roaring sound. “Rain,” she said. “You can hear it coming down the mountain before it gets here.”
Cici stood, too, peering out into the yard at the pale underside of tree leaves, stripped upward by the wind. Noah started past her toward the steps, and just then a gust of wind caught one of the decorative tables and sent it tumbling across the porch. Traci squealed. The roaring sound grew closer, and Cici said, “I don’t think that’s just the rain.”
She grabbed Noah’s arm as the wind suddenly tunneled across the porch, sending the wind chimes straight out at a ninety degree angle, overturning more tables, tearing a ribbon off the porch and sailing it into the night. “Forget the animals!” she cried.
There was a cracking sound from a nearby tree and Lindsay leapt to her feet. So did Bridget.
“Inside!” Cici had to scream now to be heard over the roaring of the wind. “Everybody inside! Hurry!”
17
Here Comes the Bride
The thundering wind, the explosive crack and crash of trees, the slam of debris caroming off the side of the house, and the somehow even more alarming tinkle of broken glass lasted less than five minutes. The roar of rain and hail lasted considerably longer. The residents of Ladybug Farm huddled together in the cellar, where Ida Mae, wearing flannel pajamas, a barn jacket, and hiking boots, distributed emergency flashlights about two minutes before the power went out. Traci, terrified, covered her head with her arms and sobbed. Lori buried her face in her father’s chest. Cici held Lindsay’s hand. Lindsay held Noah’s. Bridget held Paul’s.
When the roaring of the rain faded to a steady drumming, and finally to a patter and then