Larkspur Dreams - By Anita Higman Page 0,2

and gazed up at the cornflower blue heavens. Such a nice color, God. She shoved off toward the sky.

Just as Lark wrapped up her prayer, she realized she’d reached the highest point she’d ever gone in her swing. She felt suspended in midair like a cloud. As if the day had stopped just for her to enjoy a moment longer. Lark slowed her speed and then locked her arms to let her body drift low. She’d always loved swinging that way when she was growing up. Her parents did, too. Right alongside her.

Lark stopped her swinging and shook her head. She pondered how one thoughtless act of an intoxicated driver could affect her life so deeply. Sending her mom and dad to heaven early. She sighed. I miss you both so much.

Lark refused to dwell on the parts of her life she couldn’t control, so she released her sorrow as she took in a deep breath. The late October air smelled of earth and foliage and wood smoke. Mmm. Her favorite time of the year in Arkansas. And so magnificent with the autumn leaves setting the hills ablaze with gold and orange and crimson.

She picked up an acorn from her little pile and then released it again. The nut struck the mound and then rolled off in an unexpected direction, making the whole stack of acorns scatter, as well.

Lark thought having a brand-new neighbor was like her tiny acorn drama. She wondered how God would allow Everett Holden to change her life. Neighbors always did. At least, Lark’s neighbors always did. Or did she change their lives? She wasn’t sure in the end who influenced whom more. It appeared all of humanity bounced off each other, with each movement and word affecting the whole like a loose nut pouncing on a mound of acorns. Whether acorns or humans, the conclusion remained the same. Life was pure adventure. One never knew for sure what would happen next.

Two

Everett handed the movers a check and shut the door to his one-hundred-year-old house. Ahh. Quiet at last. He looked at the stone fireplace and polished wooden floors. In spite of the ornate qualities of the exterior, the home suited him well, and he liked the idea of moving to a quiet, woodsy village amidst the Ozark Mountains. Best of all was the convenience factor, since his biggest client lived in Eureka Springs.

After making some serious money as an accountant, Everett looked forward to reaping the benefits. But he wasn’t about to lose what he’d gained, so that meant no distractions. Living in a smaller community would help. His Realtor had promised him that in spite of all the tourists, the neighborhood was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. Perfect.

Except for that woman next door. Larkspur Wendell certainly could be a potential distraction. And attractive enough to cause a traffic pileup. What was it with those brown eyes of hers anyway? She had a probing gaze, which made one wonder if she knew everyone’s shadowy secrets and fully intended to use them. Yes, there was mischief written all over her lovely face. If he ever planned to get any work done, passive resistance and neutrality would need to be his watchwords when it came to Lark. He almost chuckled, but instead walked over to the piano and closed the lid.

Everett heard the doorbell and thought it might be the movers coming back to give his furniture one more bash with their crowbar, but a quick peek told him it was his neighborly distraction instead. He opened the door with his passive resistance intact. To his surprise Lark stood before him dressed in a bee costume. “May I help you?”

Lark smiled as one of her shoulders came toward her cheek in a shy kind of shrug. Was that her perfume drifting over to him?

Everett loosened his tie a bit.

“Hi. I know you’re unpacking and all.”

Good calculation.

Lark reached up to adjust one of the antennas on her head. “But our church is having a fall festival later this evening. And I wanted to invite you.”

“It’s hard to take you seriously. You’re dressed. . .like an insect.” He held back a chuckle.

“Tell me, Mr. Holden. What do you really see?”

What does she mean? “I see a lady dressed like an insect.”

A warm smile inched its way across Lark’s face. Her hair floated around her in the breeze as she wiped the strands from her eyes. “Well, you also see a neighbor who wants you to feel