Chapter 12: The Bridge of Lilies
That evening, after the last festival guests had departed down the ridge road and the harvest moon rose over the limestone bluffs, Lauren walked down the path toward the lower orchard.
The air was cool, carrying the sweet fragrance of ripe apples, fallen leaves, and distant woodsmoke.
A single yellow lantern was burning in the window of the stone cottage by the gate.
Lauren knocked gently on the wooden doorframe.
Jenna opened the door. She was wearing an old wool sweater, holding a botany textbook, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw her sister standing on the threshold.
""Lauren..."" Jenna said softly.
""May I come in, Jenna?"" Lauren asked gently.
Jenna stepped back, her hands trembling as she pulled out a wooden chair by the cast-iron stove. ""Of course. Let me make some tea.""
Lauren sat at the simple pine table, looking around the small, spotless room.
On the wooden windowsill sat a single glass jar holding three dried purple coneflowers from Lauren’s native prairie garden.
Jenna set two steaming mugs of mint tea on the table, sitting opposite her sister, keeping her eyes lowered with humble deference.
Lauren reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, silver-framed photograph from twenty years ago: two little girls in yellow summer dresses, sitting on the front porch in Naperville, laughing hysterically with strawberry ice cream dripping down their chins.
May you like
Lauren set the frame on the table between them.
---
