Winter in Full Bloom Read Online Free PDF

wads of them I’d eventually resemble one. For some reason that thought opened the floodgates, so as I chewed, tears streamed down my full cheeks. I lived a sad little life that no longer made sense. What was I doing here? Was I on a fool’s errand?
    “Want to talk about it?” someone said from behind me.
    I jumped at the male voice near my ear and whirled around to see who spoke with such familiarity. “Excuse me?” My voice got muffled through the sugary fluff.
    “My friends say I’m a good listener. Yeah.” The man sat down on the other end of the bench even though the park appeared to be full of empty spots. Then he set some sort of music case down on the seat between us.
    I finished chewing. “You’re a stranger, so—”
    “And your mum told you never to talk to strangers.” He gave me a decisive nod. “Good advice, Love.”
    The man probably expected me to grin over his Aussie endearment, but I daubed at my eyes and blew my nose instead. The stranger didn’t appear to be hideous, now that I’d had a chance to give him the once-over. He seemed to be early forty-ish, and he had a nebulously attractive thing going—sort of an older James McAvoy look with a scruffy five-o’clock shadow. Not too bad. But I was in no mood for banter. “I’m not used to perfect strangers being so familiar.”
    “Well, I’ve never been called perfect before, so I thank you.”
    I frowned. How could he possibly think that was funny? Hmm. I was a breath away from getting up, but before I left he needed a lesson in manners. “If a woman looks sad and she’s sitting by herself, conventional wisdom says you should walk on by because she wants to be alone with her thoughts.”
    “Yes, true, but I’m not all that conventional.” He rested back on the bench with a lounging manner and then crossed his legs at the ankles.
    Still I didn’t gift him with my smile, since it was obvious that he’d benefit more from a good smack on the head. Being the fine Christian woman that I was, though, I restrained myself.
    I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye again. Even though he looked wrinkly, his shirt and slacks weren’t too shabby. Maybe I’d stay for a moment longer. It was the first real conversation I’d had with an Australian man, so I hated to get a dull view of the male population right off. “You’re not representing your Aussie countrymen very well.”
    “You’re American, aren’t you? Guessing from the accent, you’re from Texas. You’re on your own, but you’re not here on holiday. Something else entirely has brought you to Melbourne. Yeah.”
    “Yes, it is something else entirely … and it’s entirely none of your business.” Like the box turtles I befriended as a child, I pulled back inside my armor.
    “Maybe it would help my cause if I introduced myself. I’m Marcus Averill. Although some people around here tend to call me Avers. Aussies like to shorten things up.”
    The only thing that needed shortening was the conversation, but since I didn’t want to be thought of as a rude American, I shook his hand. “I’m Lily Winter.”
    “Lovely name. Yeah. By the way, the lily is an emblem of beauty and virtue.”
    “Thank you.” I cleared my throat from all the sticky sugar. “You didn’t pronounce the city as Mel-born like I did. Why is that?”
    “Because here we say Mel-bun, not Mel-born.”
    “I’ve noticed that people pronounce things differently, especially the word yeah .”
    “True. It’s like Aussies invented some new vowels just for that one word.”
    Exactly.
    He gazed over the gardens. “Soon the park will be in full bloom. You’ll see colors that even artists have trouble re-creating on their canvas.”
    “Oh?”
    “You know, every winter it’s hard to imagine how it will be … all those tightly closed buds just waiting for a little spring. And a bit of love and attention.”
    Time to amend the conversation. “So, what are those yellow flowering trees I saw all along the