Among The Tulips

He nodded his head slightly. “German, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese and a little bit of French, though I understand it much better than I speak it.”

“You’re kidding.” She gasped.

“I have a knack for languages.”

She couldn’t believe it. “Wow.”

“You’ll find other people who speak English at the resort and many of the tourist stores. But they’re in the northern end of town. As I said, you weren’t in a very tourist area. You’re lucky anyone right there could understand you.”

They turned onto a main road, most likely the main road she’d been heading for. It wasn’t as nice as some she’d driven on in Louisiana but then, there were a few roads in Louisiana that were worse than this as well. This was definitely more populated than the other road. An open market sat on the corner, large and with people hawking their goods. “Oh, look! We have one of those in New Orleans but it’s nothing like this.”

Victor smiled. “The French Quarter is for show. This one is a working market.”

“You’ve been to New Orleans?”

“On several occasions.”

Victor was an enigma. Annie’s curiosity was running wild.

“I was going to stay at the resort,” she murmured, seeing the buildings they passed. This was definitely not New Orleans.

“I can’t see you staying there,” Victor murmured.

Suddenly her attention was back on him. How did he manage that? Maybe it was because whenever he spoke it was as if she was hearing a friend. He had a voice that beckoned her to listen.

His voice and certain moves he made seemed familiar. She felt as if she should know him.

Embarrassed that she seemed to be imposing her needs here in Holland on a man she didn’t even know, she glanced away. “Why is it that you can’t see me staying there?”

“I don’t know. You seem more of a woman who would be happier at home surrounded by friends. Maybe one on one.”

Well he’d certainly pegged her there. “You’re very astute,” she replied quietly.

This road wasn’t as bumpy, and Annie found herself again relaxing into the thick luxurious seat, though increasingly aware of his presence.

She didn’t dare turn and look at Victor. Good heavens. Was she making a mistake staying with him? What had happened to her simple sense of propriety? She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to a man. She was a widow!

“You said something about your friends sending you here?”

“No. Yes. Well, no. I mean, I wanted to come. I’m just…well…” She sighed. Still not herself, she probably admitted to more than she should when she elaborated. “I lost my husband four years ago. We’d been married eighteen years when he died. And they thought, for my birthday, they’d give me a trip as a gift. They thought it’d be great for me to get out and see the world before going back to work.” She still felt really fuzzy from all the medication. Sleep really sounded nice right now.

“Ah.” Victor’s voice sounded like an invitation to continue. He leaned back and resumed his regular seat.

Dreamily she said, “It was easier to give in and besides, I think I was actually excited. I already had a passport. And so, a week later I was on the plane.”

“On your birthday,” he said.

“I told you that?” Annie asked, surprised. Turning her head slowly, she met the caring stare of the man next to her.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured and then offered her a slight smile. “You told me quite a bit.”

Her cheeks flared with color as she realized she wasn’t sure exactly what she’d said. “Oh, dear.”

He grinned a large wide grin that lit his eyes, causing them to sparkle with humor. “I’ll leave you guessing as to what you told me.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t do that,” Annie said nervously though her eyes drifted half closed. This car was wonderfully comfortable, she thought.

His grin actually widened a bit more. “Now who said I was a gentleman?” And then he laughed. It was a baritone, a deep-throated chuckle.

Not the least bit sexy, but it had the devastating affect of pulling her into the joke and making her want to hear it again.

They passed out of the city and turned east. She rolled her head toward the window to look out. “The countryside is beautiful. These homes remind me of Heidi.”

“Except we don’t have mountains. We’re below sea level here.”

“I remember the story of the boy with his finger in the dike,” she said, a languid amusement slipping into her voice.

Small houses sat on parcels of land, and sheep wandered the lush green landscape. “This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. So, do you still want to go home?”

She hesitated. Pulling her gaze from the window, she allowed her vision to travel over to him. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, but the thought of leaving right now…”

He reached out and took her hand in a gentle squeeze. His larger hand engulfed her smaller one. “You’re tired and sore. I imagine in the next hour or two the pain medication will be wearing off. This hasn’t been the best welcome to our land, but I hope you’ll take a day or two and rest before you decide. Then, if you’d like to leave, I’ll see you get to the airport.”

They turned onto a long drive and Victor glanced out the window. “Here we are,” he said.

Annie followed his gaze. She noted the gate that protected his property. Large with solid round black bars, it kept intruders out. It was more like a fortress, she thought.

The gate opened and they started up the driveway. And then she saw it.

In the distance sat a beautiful two-story chateau surrounded by lush green gardens and green, green grass. Nearby were stables and several horses running free.

It looked like a very old house. The gardens and lawns were well-tended and hadn’t been put in recently.

“How old is the house?”

“I only bought it about five years ago. It’s an escape for me. However, I was told by the Realtor that it’s over a hundred and forty years old.”

“Relatively new for something in the Old World, isn’t it?”

“I’m impressed. Yes, actually it is. I liked the way the land was laid out, the reclusive situation and my mother was from Holland. So I bought it.”

He wasn’t from here then. No. He was American, wasn’t he? She didn’t remember if he’d told her that or if she’d just decided it. Yet he spoke the local language well. His mom had probably taught him.

They pulled to a stop in front of the house and the driver got out. He walked around and opened the door.

“So what are we going to do about getting you inside?” Victor asked as he climbed past her and stepped out of the car.