The quiet stretch of road behind Emma’s house in Warrenton was where I took my solitary walks each morning. Yellow bushes of wild flowers grew on the slopes on either side, their shiny petals, like tiny icicles reflecting the rays of the golden sun. They stood out against the green creepers that blanketed the brown earth. One day there were miniscule white buds on these creepers. The following day they opened into star like blossoms, which covered the sidewalks like a veil of Chantilly lace. The yellow flowers had held me under their spell. In spite of the visual treat they provided, they exuded no fragrance. As they aged, they developed a heart of maroon, giving the blossoms a quiet dignity, like the lines on an ageing face.

I wanted to take home a bunch of these flowers. They would look lovely in the long-necked porcelain vase that stood in the corner of Emma’s living room. They would bring some sunshine into a home that appeared soulless. Rich lush carpets, expensive artifacts, paintings by Matisse and Rembrandt, yet life seemed to have flown out of the window, making the house seem like a silent mausoleum.

I stretched out my hands towards the freshest bunch of yellow flowers, and almost fell back by the firm grip on my shoulders.

“Stop it. Are you out of your mind?”

A bass voice rang in my ears shaking me out of my thoughts. I was slowly rotated by my shoulders, to look directly into a pair of eyes that were as blue as the skies above. Water dripped from his hair, and his taut deltoids exuded an animal strength, even through his flimsy T-shirt.

“Who are you?” he asked, releasing my shoulders. His eyes registered surprise.

“So you mistook me for someone else?” I asked suddenly finding my tongue.

He didn’t answer. Merely stared.

“I was right. You mistook me for someone else.”

“Where have you come from?” he asked.

“I’ve been walking up and down this road for more than a week, and I’ve never met a soul so far. So I can ask you the same question. Where did you spring from? Were you spying on me? Is this your property?”

“You ought to thank your lucky stars that I came by. These flowers are fatal. Scotch Broom can kill as swiftly as a tidal wave – I mean for those who are allergic to the flowers. Breathless one moment and dead the next. Come on. I’ll walk you home. Where do you live?”

            He was more than six feet tall, and I couldn’t reach up to his shoulders even if I stood on tip-toe.

“At Random Hall,” I said, “Down one slope and up the other. The yellow house with the rock garden.”

“What a pompous name for an ugly house. Like she was some duchess or an English lady.”

“Watch what you’re saying. She is my friend and hostess.”

“Quite a temper eh?” he laughed. “If you must know, I’m her closest neighbour, though she wouldn’t pass the time of day with guys like me.”

He walked me up to the white gate.

“Bye, and don’t go touching those flowers again.”

Then he strode off, a colossus of a man, as though he was God’s gift to womankind. I stood there watching his receding back until he turned the corner.

            Emma had been observing us from her window. She opened the door before I could knock.

“For Goodness sake! Where did you meet that fellow and who is he?”

“He says he’s your nearest neighbour. You ought to make his acquaintance. He’s good at rescuing damsels in distress in case you get into trouble.”

“I’ve never set eyes on him before. And what great distress were you in when he rescued you?”

“Well, I was about to pluck a bunch of yellow flowers for your vase, and he pounced on me as though I was attempting sicide.”

“He has a point there. Didn’t I tell you that it is a killer weed that spreads rapidly? People don’t know how to contain it. It does cause severe allergies, and a few have proved fatal. I’ve got my property weeded and sprayed, but there’s no guarantee that the darned thing won’t grow again.”

            I didn’t see the man again for a fortnight, though I kept peeping over my shoulder expectantly when I went on my walks. I often thought of his forceful grip on my shoulders. I even re-lived the vibes that passed through me as I looked into his incredibly blue eyes.

            When Emma and I sat out in the patio at dusk, we could sometimes hear a banjo strumming in the distance, and a low sensuous voice drifting through the night in a touching ballad. Did I imagine it or did the words go something like “You were only mine for just a little while……..?” Could it be the same man, and for whom was he singing? Emma would grow restless when she heard the song. “Damn the man!” she would mutter under her breath.

It had a totally different effect on me. I wanted to tap on his door and ask him what strife inside him was producing such sadness. But Emma would call me a brazen hussy and send me packing. No, I certainly didn’t want to rub her up the wrong side.

            Then one day he was there.

“You haven’t been playing with the Scotch Broom, have you?” he asked, a smile lighting up his face.

“Now why would I do that?” I laughed. “Especially after you’ve put the fear of God into me. You have the knack of springing up from nowhere and shocking people.”

“You don’t seem so disturbed by my presence,”he said confidently. “Have you been missing me?”

I blushed, and he knew it was true.

“So what have been doing with yourself? Have you seen some interesting places?”

“Not really. Emma is always busy at the hospital.  She’s tired when she gets home. But I’m enjoying the comforts of her home and her hospitality. Besides, she has a well stocked library.”

“A poor way to enjoy a holiday!  Look, I’ve some time on my hands. I could take you for a cruise on the Columbia River, and show you some of the towns on the waterfront. You could listen to the call of the sea gulls, and watch the sea lions doing their somersaults. Have you ever been in a motor boat before?”

“No, but I’ve been on a row boat many times, and also know how to swim.”

“Good. Now you ask your friend if she could trust you in my company.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm in your voice? Emma doesn’t even know you.”

“She wouldn’t. The lady of Random Hall has only two things on her mind – money and popularity. She can’t get either by mixing with the likes of me. Now tell me, would you like to spend a day on my boat?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you’ll have to get her permission. Or she may have me taken in for kidnapping you.”

            I broached the subject to Emma that evening. The shocked look on her face was comical. She coloured up like a cut beetroot.

“You know nothing about the guy. You say he’s my neighbour, but I haven’t been acquainted with him in all these years. He’s probably some ‘red neck’ who’s made a lot of money catching fish, and bought himself a large property in this fashionable neighbourhood.”

“I’m going, Emma. He’s a good man, and fun to be with. Besides, you have no time to show me the sights.”

“Don’t blame me if things don’t turn out the way you want them to. Good Luck!”

            That night I heard her phone my mother.

“Sheila’s going on a cruise on the Columbia River tomorrow. A neighbour has offered to take her. She’s quite confident that she can take care of herself.”

I could imagine my mother’s worried face way back in Bangalore. She had so many doubts and fears when she sent me on this holiday.

“Bad things happen to young girls all the time. You be careful about whom you mix with.”

Now Emma had given her something to worry over.

...to be continued