"TXT - Nora Roberts - Dream 03 - Finding The Dream" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

sorrows that make a man. He had survived to love a woman, to raise a
family, to plant gardens. He was content with what had grown from him.

But he had never forgotten the girl he had loved. And killed. He had
never forgotten their dream of a future or the sweet, innocent way she
had given herself to him. When they had loved in secret, both of them so
young, so fresh, they dreamed of the life they would have together, the
home they would build with her dowry, the children they would make.

But war came, and he left her to prove himself a man. And proved himself
a coward instead.

She had hidden her bride gift, the symbol of hope that a young girl
treasures, to keep it out of American hands. Felipe had no doubt where
she had hidden it. He had understood his Seraphina--her logic, her
sentiment, her strengths and weaknesses. Though it had meant that he was
penniless when he left Monterey, he had not taken the gold and jewels
Seraphina had secreted.

Now, with the dreams of age that had turned his hair to silver, that had
dimmed his eyes and lived in his aching bones, he prayed that it would
be found one day by lovers. Or dreamers. If God was just. He would allow
Seraphina to choose. Whatever the Church preached, Felipe refused to
believe God would condemn a grieving child for the sin of suicide.

No, she would be as he had left her more than forty years ago on these
very cliffs. Forever young and beautiful and full of hope.

He knew he would not return to this place. His time of penance was
almost at an end. He hoped when he saw his Seraphina again, she would
smile at him and forgive a young man's foolish pride.

He rose, bending in the wind, leaning on his cane to keep his feet under
him. And left the cliffs to Seraphina.

There was a storm brewing, marching across the sea. A summer storm, full
of power and light and wild wind. In that eerie luminescent light, Laura
Templeton sat content on the rock. Summer storms were the best.

They would have to go in soon, back to Templeton

House, but for now, she and her two closest friends would wait and
watch. She was sixteen, a delicately built girl with quiet gray eyes and
bright blond hair. And as full of energy as any storm.

"I wish we could get in the car and drive right into it," Margo Sullivan
laughed. The wind was fitful and growing stronger. "Right into it."

"Not with you behind the wheel," Kate Powell sneered. "You've only had
your license a week, and you already have a rep as a lunatic."