Her tongue flicked out as she wet her lips before she gave him a quick nod. "Yes, she was my grandmother. How do you know her name?"
His head tilted to the side as his gaze narrowed and his brow furrowed, as if contemplating something. After several interminable moments, he stood and moved to the large walnut bookcase across the room. His finger ran across the spines of several books before landing on a narrow black spine cobwebbed with cracks from both age and use.
He pulled it from the shelf then turned with a lopsided smile, emphasizing the groove in his cheek. "It does indeed look like we have more in common than meets the eye," he said as he dropped onto the sofa next to her, his weight causing her to lean toward him.
She watched, fascinated as John thumbed to a page in the middle that held a fragile, pressed daisy and began to read out loud:
July 10, 1950
What is that word you use when it seems like the universe drops something into your lap? When you meet someone who you know, in your gut, is important to you, but you don't know why? Serendipity? Fate?
The woman was a real beauty. This tall brunette was all attitude and confidence as she strode from between the trees like the goddess Artemis herself. She claimed to be on a hike, but it was obvious she was lost. Not surprising since she was from England.
But I knew at that moment I had met my soulmate.
Frankie stared at the black, worn journal in John's large hands—it was so much like the one she held in her own grasp. Both describing the love of nature and a tale of star-crossed lovers. She took several calming breaths, but it was several moments before she could speak. "That was your grandfather's journal? Describing the day he met my grandmother?"
The slight dip of his chin was his answer, his indigo eyes smoldering with some intense emotion, a muscle in his cheek twitching. She wanted to trace her finger along that plane.
"So you know? That our grandparents not only knew each other, but that they also fell in love?"
"I know the story, yes. But I had no idea that woman was your grandmother. How could I have known that? We've only just met."
Frankie lifted a shoulder and barked out a sarcastic laugh. "How indeed? Talk about serendipitous meetings." She met his gaze. "It was on a hike nearby where they met, yes?"
Again, he gave only an affirmative nod.
"She wrote about meeting a man who was tending his maple lines, which she described as a spider web-like network that spread out through the trees. It was that experience, that summer she spent with your grandfather, that inspired her workto restore the forests of England. She became a powerful voice for the movement."
"I know," John answered, his voice full of awe. "My grandfather bought every book she ever published. Kept a folder with every article she was featured in. It drove my grandmother nuts that he was so obsessed with a woman halfway across the globe."
Their eyes held for what felt like an eternity. “Tell me something,” he finally muttered.
She lifted her brows, waiting for his question.
“When your grandmother returned to England, she married your grandfather right away, yes?”
“Not right away. They were married three months after her return.”
His eyes narrowed, his body imperceptibly tensing. “When was their first child born?”
“My father was born two years later, in 1952. Why do you ask?”
John’s lips curled up in a satisfied smile, his body visibly relaxing. “No reason.” He dropped a hand between them and turned it up, his fingers widespread. Biting her lip, Frankie carefully fitted her palm to his. They sat side-by-side, gazes held and fingers threaded together, bonded by their connection in history.
John squeezed her hand lightly, staring at their clasp. "I'll help you any way I can. What do you want to know?"
A huge smile stretched across Frankie's face. "Everything."
Chapter 5
She rubbed her swollen breasts against his hard chest, feeling the sensitive tips drag across the rough hairs, her naked legs twining with his. "Kiss me," she pleaded, desperate for the release only he could give her.
The thud of the closing front door snapped Frankie rudely awake. For a moment, she stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to make sense of where she was and wanting to chase the lingering tendrils of the most erotic dream she'd ever had.
Last night came slowly back to her: telling John about her grandmother, learning about his grandfather, and the bond they shared. She sucked in a deep breath and whooshed it out. The entire situation was so surreal: the winter storm, her car accident, John, of all people, rescuing her, and finally their connection was revealed.
She had always known her grandmother had a soft spot for Ben Robbins, but to also learn that the man had pined for her grandmother even more was almost heartbreaking. They had been so close, yet separated by so much—an ocean, a country, obligations, marriages, such different life paths.
