openly courting the wealthy widow was out of the question, but his lust and love had overflowed, so he’d begun a rather unique method of gaining Mrs. Hollis’s attention.
Several times a week after all others were asleep, he would sneak out of the hotel where he resided and leave small gifts and letters, even poems of adoration and love upon her doorstep. It wasn’t gaining him any ground with her, but he was able to pour out his heart just the same.
In effect, he’d become Sophie Mae Hollis’s secret admirer.
The Man Of Her Dreams
Sophie Hollis squinted as she peered into the mirror. The faint, but permanent, frown lines between her eyes and across her forehead only deepened her resolve. By her reckoning, she was in full bloom—very full bloom. If she didn’t latch onto another husband within the next couple of years, it would be too late. By then, her looks would be gone and she’d have to spend the rest of her life without a man in her bed. For the lusty and lonely widow, it would be a fate worse than death. While some people refuse to accept certain truths about themselves, Sophie had long ago come to terms with the fact that she didn’t like to live alone. Yes, she was a well-to-do widow, but her life was empty without a man.
If Nardin Hollis hadn’t happened along twelve years ago and snatched her out of her own bed and into his own, Sophie suspected that her youthful bodily desires would have gotten the best of her. She would have mounted the first man who hadn’t smelled like manure, and ended up flat on her back being rode by every other man who did, like that disgusting Letty creature down at the White Dove Saloon.
With a heartfelt sigh, she pinched the soft, fleshy parts of her face and bit her lips to the point of pain. When she looked in the mirror again, the pink pout on her mouth and the rose flush on her cheeks sent the frown on her face into hiding. She reminded herself that all was not lost. For the past six months, small gifts of wildflower bouquets and pretty rocks—even a delicate little bird’s nest with three tiny blue feathers interwoven within the grass and twigs had been appearing on her doorstep. Then the letters began, sometimes just a message relating how fetching she had looked that day, or a bit of poetry that leaned toward love and romance while maintaining decorum. She’d been shocked, excited, and then downright curious to know who had become her secret admirer.
But six months had passed and the idea of being adored from afar wasn’t as enticing as it had once been. Sophie was tired of the secrets. She wanted a flesh and blood companion to grow old with—someone with whom she could share her fears, as well as her desires. But as hard as she’d tried, she couldn’t figure out who, of the unattached men in Lizard Flats, was eloquent enough to have penned the sweet missives.
She moved to the desk and opened a drawer, taking out a packet of envelopes then lifting the top one from the stack. She knew what was inside, but she wanted to read it again. Maybe this time she would see a hint of the writer’s identity in the lines.
You passed me on the street today and my poor heart went aflutter.
I wanted to tell you how your smile delights me, but all I could do was mutter.
The brief hello I managed to say was pitiful and small,
Dear lady of my heart please know that you’re the best of all.
Your ardent admirer
Sophie laid the poem back on top of the stack and then closed the drawer.
Dear lady of my heart. He always calls me dear lady of my heart.
“I might be a bit more impressed if he had the guts to say it to my face,” she stated, then tucked her shopping list into her purse, picked up her parasol, and headed for the front door.
Once outside, she paused long enough to open the parasol against the blistering heat of the day. Holding it at a stylish tilt, she stepped off the porch and started down the walk, then stopped at the gate to look back at all that was hers.
The two-story clapboard house gleamed white in the sunshine, while the gingerbread decorating the eaves, porch, and posts had been painted a robin’s egg blue. Well-kept flower beds burgeoning with