"How close are you with her?" Jayden asks Anna, seating himself across the dining table.
Anna scoops a spoonful of cold, vibrant, cherry-flavoured sorbet—Mrs. Barlowe's signature dessert.
He taps his fingers impatiently on the wooden table, awaiting her response in a distracted jumble.
Meanwhile, Anna, unhurried and serene, savours the dessert—the burst of cherry freshness on her tongue sending a thrill through her small frame.
He halts his fidgeting.
"You can even have my share of sorbet," Jayden offers, catching Anna's eyes.
Her eyes sparkle with delight. "Are you honest, Brother?"
He nods, smiling. "Yes. Truly."
Anna beams—but her smile falters a moment later. "What will Aunt say? She won't like it," she murmurs, lifting another spoonful of sorbet toward her lips.
"Only if you tell her," Jayden shrugs. "She does not need to know." He's desperate—desperate to gather any thread of closeness to the girl who's claimed his heart.
Anna giggles. "I assume you wish to know about Sister Neva?"
He leans forward eagerly. "Yes—Neva."
His heart skips—with just the sound of her name on his tongue.
A warm flush rises to his cheeks.
His mind drawing a living picture of her.
Anna eyes him curiously. Something about Jayden feels... off. "We're very close," she says. "I love her!"
Neva is the friend and sister she never had—sunlight in human form.
"I feel the same," Jayden mumbles.
Anna tilts her head. "Did you say something?"
"No," he replies quickly.
"When did she move in? Where does she live?" he asks.
Anna keeps eating, her hand moving mechanically, mind drifting.
She remembers the terrifying fall through the ice at the frozen pond. "January," she says softly. The sorbet loses its flavour on her tongue.
"And where is her home?" Jayden presses.
Anna glares. His insistence has soured her mood.
"Son?" Mrs. Barlowe's voice rings through the parlour before Anna can speak.
"Yes, Ma?" Jayden replies, turning.
She steps in, holding a transparent container with a pink lid, full of sorbet.
"Take this to Mrs. Lei's home—rear east end of our street."
Jayden sighs. "Sure, Ma."
"Hurry, the sun's in mighty heat," she urges, handing it to him.
He stands, casting a glance at Anna, who now pokes at her dessert, sulking.
"We will talk later," he says, earning a sharp look from her—and a puzzled one from his mother.
He has no idea what made her upset.
Outside, he walks under the scorching blaze of the noon sun, but he doesn't mind. His head whirls with thoughts—her thoughts.
He wonders about her age—she looked young, maybe his age. Twenty.
He wonders about her hobbies, her favourite foods—if their hearts might align. He has seen city girls before, dazzling but hollow.
But Neva—Neva is seraphic.
Heavenly. Unfair to compare her to anyone. She's different. Her presence, her aura—enchanting.
He shakes his head. What is happening to him?
Yesterday, he had been completely fine. Then she appeared and claimed every part of him. This isn't right. He has to see her again—right now.
The more he drowns in thoughts of her, the higher his soul seems to float.
He pictures her in white—not the prairie dress, but a bridal one.
His.
Before anyone else lays claim. Before fate decides she was never meant for him.
Lost in his reverie, he reaches the house his mother described.
His brows lift in surprise. Someone has finally moved into this long-abandoned cottage—nestled near the woods, surrounded by golden wheat fields, ripening toward their August harvest.
The weeds are gone.
The air smells sweet, flowers blooming wild around the fence. He inhales deeply, overcome by the beauty of summer.
He pushes open the simple wooden gate. As he steps closer to the house, a soft humming floats toward him. He turns—and sees her.
There she is.
His first love.
His heart skips a beat.
His breath fluttering away with the cool delicate breeze and rustling leaves...
She rests in the front yard, from where the sun rises—in a tranquiled space beneath ash and maple trees in a wooden chair.
A small table and an empty chair beside her.
Eyes closed, she hums with the birds, unaware of his presence.
"Who are you?" a sudden, deep voice startles him. He gasps, looking up. He hadn't noticed the man—glass of iced water in hand—now approaching him.
He's tall, wearing a thin white cotton shirt. Broad, muscular, handsome. And utterly intimidating.
Neva stirs at the sound. Her brows knit. "Rhett?" she calls softly, rising and walking toward them.
Rhett meets her halfway, holding her hand gently. "You should've stayed seated," he says with tender concern.
"It's alright," Neva smiles.
Jayden's chest tightens.
Why must she look at him that way? Why must this grim-eyed man speak to her so sweetly—whispering phrases which faint before it reaches Jayden's ears.
"Did you need something, Jayden?" Neva asks, bringing him out of his daze.
Jayden swallows as their eyes meet. Her voice—so calm.
He only stares, speechless, as if her voice just carved his name into the sky.
He never knew his name could sound so sweet whispered by those lips.
'Lord… why must she be so perfect?'
Rhett frowns. He doesn't like the softness in Jayden's eyes.
"She asked you something," he says sharply.
Jayden blinks.
He looks away. This is bad—especially the way Rhett's arm curls protectively around her waist.
He scrambles for words.
"I… Are you Mrs. Lei?" he finally manages.
"I am," Neva answers, face brightening.
Jayden's heart sinks.
She's really Mrs. Lei.
"My ma sent this for you," he says, offering the container with both hands.
She steps closer—his Neva—leaving that man behind, if only for a moment.
"Thank you. Tell her I'm grateful," she says, reaching for the sorbet.
As she accepts it with one hand, her other curves instinctively over the soft swell beneath her dress. There's a quiet, private smile that touches her lips, as though she cradles a secret being.
Jayden freezes.
A bump.
He hadn't seen it yesterday. But now—she's wearing a white prairie dress, puffed sleeves, the fabric loose and soft, brushing her ankles. But her hand curves over the swell beneath.
'Ma… my first love remains unfulfilled.'
He weeps inside, swallowing his pain—tucked away for himself and his mother alone.
"You know him?" Rhett asks.
"I do. We met yesterday. He's Mrs. Barlowe's son, remember?" Neva says.
Rhett nods.
'She talked about me?'
Jayden's heart stirs. But the ring on her finger feels like a chain around his chest.
This love—this first love—pierces his heart.
And pain burrows deep in his heart.
"Would you like to come in? Have something cold?" she offers kindly.
He shakes his head. "I appreciate it. But no. I must go."
He takes one last glance. Her smile stirs something deep and tender in him.
He tears his gaze away and walks off, leaving behind her serenity.
---
Back under the soothing shade of the rustling trees, Neva sits again, eager to see what's in the container.
She opens the lid, eyes twinkling at the cherry sorbet's glistening pink.
"I don't like him. You're not seeing him again," Rhett declares.
Neva lifts her gaze, eyes narrowing. "Why?"
"You wouldn't want to know," he replies, kissing her cheek gently.
Her cheeks bloom in rosy heat.
She bites her lower lip, hiding a smile. "Okay," she says softly.
He has earned all her trust.
He grins. "I love you."
"I love you too," she answers, her smile dazzling.
"Let me feed you," he offers, taking the spoon and sorbet from her hands.
It hasn't been long since they returned from her biweekly prenatal check-up.
Rhett had taken the day off, as he always does. He never lets her visit the doctor alone.