Chapter 7: Peonies and Old Wounds

After changing, I hurried back to the garden. The sounds of laughter and music drew me forward.

There was a burst of cheers and laughter as several young men arrived. They strode across the lawn, confident and laughing, their suits crisp in the sunlight.

From afar, I caught sight of a familiar figure. My pulse sped up—there he was, Rachel, tall and sure, hair tousled by the wind.

My heart leaped with joy, and I walked quickly forward, only to hear Jessica Lynn’s shy voice: “Rachel, this isn’t proper.”

I stopped in my tracks.

Before me was Rachel, breaking off a brilliant peony and tucking it in Jessica Lynn’s hair. My mind flashed to a memory of him picking wildflowers for me by a country road on a summer drive—peonies and daisies, tangled together.

A wave of bitterness surged in my heart. My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped my purse. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

The two gazed at each other, as if no one else existed. Their smiles were soft, private.

A handsome man and a beautiful woman—a perfect match.

“This peony suits you well, Jessica.”

Rachel’s lips curved in a gentle smile.

In my previous life, when he played with me, he also smiled at me with that doting, helpless look. That memory cut deeper than I expected.

I clenched my napkin and instinctively fled. The world blurred around me as I ducked behind a row of boxwoods.

Jessica Lynn called out to me, seemingly on purpose. Her voice was sweet, but I heard the edge beneath.

Rachel looked over, his eyes calm and clear, his voice gentle and bright. “Anna, you dropped your napkin.”

I hurriedly picked up the napkin and left the garden. My cheeks burned with shame, and I felt the sting of tears.

When I calmed down and looked at the embroidered napkin in my hand, I panicked again.

C.N.—stitched in navy thread, neat and strange. My heart stuttered. Who was C.N.?

Thinking this, I flung it into the reflecting pool. The napkin floated briefly before sinking beneath the lilies.

Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a teasing voice came from behind. “Why did this young lady throw my napkin into the pool?”

I turned around, and our eyes met in the air.

He was taller than I remembered, his uniform crisp, a faint scar at his jaw. He was momentarily stunned, his fingers unconsciously curling, a hint of red rising on his tan cheeks. He looked both amused and oddly shy.

I had no intention of explaining myself.

So I turned and ran away. The sound of his laughter followed me, light and unexpected.