Page 111 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

The sky...it was no longer late afternoon in this pastoral paradise. The yellow sun poked its head through the pink petals of dawn.

And floating toward them on the silver morning waters was a rowboat painted in stripes of pink and yellow and white.

“All aboard,” August said, offering his arm out to her.

“You’re up to something,” she said.

“I absolutely am, yes.”

Warily—though more amused than afraid—Lia took August’s arm and let him lead her to the edge of the river. He waded into the water and held the boat steady as she stepped inside and sat quickly on the pink silk cushion in the bow. August shoved them off and sat down on a cushion of his own in one smooth motion.

“Where are we going?” she asked, leaning back to enjoy the ride.

“Down the river and into the woods,” he said as he placed the oars and started to row. He rowed well, and the trim little boat skimmed along the top of the river, swift as a water strider bug. Must have been the magic of the fantasy as they were slipping into the woods mere seconds after they’d set out.

Once they’d passed into the forest, Lia shivered. The shadows were thick and cool here, and August stopped rowing to hand her his corduroy jacket from the floor of the boat.

“Thank you,” she said as she put it on, touched by his gallantry.

“I could have made it warmer,” August said. “But I’d rather lend you my jacket.”

Lia smiled as she wrapped the jacket around her and held it to her body. She was glad he hadn’t raised the temperature, and not simply because she liked wearing his coat.

This is how it should be, she thought. But what? How what should be? She didn’t know where she was or where August was taking her, but somehow she already knew it should be like this—a cool shadowy spring morning with garden birds waking up to sing. As August rowed them through the woods, Lia felt as if she’d stepped into a painting or into the pages of a fairy tale.

Everything was perfect...the pink-and-yellow-dawn boat, August’s sleeves rolled up just so, and the trees by the water...a million willows, there had to be. Lia had counted, and they came to a million exactly.

“Willows,” Lia said. “August?”

“‘“Believe me, my young friend,”’” August said as he pulled on the oars. “‘“There is nothing—absolutely nothing—half so much worth doing...”’”

“‘“As messing around in boats,”’” Lia said, finishing the famous quotation fromThe Wind in the Willows.

She knew then exactly where they were, and so she began to cry.

August smiled at her, said nothing and pulled again on the oars.

The river widened from not much more than a twelve-foot trickle and turned into a pond that was almost dignified enough to be called a lake. The sun shone down and warmed them enough that Lia slipped off August’s jacket. In the center of the almost-lake sat an almost-island. August rowed to the island, and with a splash of two boots in shallow water, he pulled the boat ashore.

He helped Lia to her feet.

She could not speak, and August was kind enough to ask her no questions. He let her weep, though he did use the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the largest of her tears from her cheeks.

“Weeping like a willow because she’s in her favorite bedtime story,” he said, shaking his head. “This girl who told me her heart died. I don’t believe a word of it.”

He kissed her cheek to show her how silly she was and then took her by the hand.

“Come, Lia,” he said. “We have a date.”

Gently he tugged on her hand, but she dug her feet in the soft soil and wouldn’t budge.

“Lia?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Watch. It’s easy.” August lifted his feet up and down. “Just like that. March on. He’s waiting.”

“I can’t go in there.”

---