Roses in Autumn Read Online Free Page A

soon be there.”
    “You’re sure you know the way?”
    “No problem. There’s only one way.”
    Laura would have liked to pursue the thought that life should be so simple. But at the moment, she wanted even more not to think at all.
    “See? The lights of the city. What’d I tell you?” Even in her near-comatose state Laura admired her husband’s ability to find his way in a strange city in the black of night. Laura had a mind that could memorize poetry at little more than a single reading, but she couldn’t remember directions or a math formula to save herself from hanging. Tom whipped around three corners, and there before her appeared the fairy-tale scene of the many-domed Parliament building all outlined in lights. She had seen the pictures but assumed the illumination was only done at Christmas. And now, after all the time she had dreamed of seeing it, here she was—too wretched to care. Tom turned up a dim, rain-washed driveway and stopped under the portals of the Empress Hotel.
    But grande dame that she was, the Empress needed her sleep. And apparently so did her doorman and bellman. So Laura made her entrance into one of the world’s great hotels tripping over bulging bags and struggling to see around the straggles of wet hair hanging over her eyes. So much for all of her daydreams of the beautiful, romantic times they would have in the garden city of the world—how they would rediscover each other and learn to love in a whole new way, the honeymoon that would be a prelude to the rest of their lives … She had undoubtedly endued the venture with too much fantasy—that was typical of her—but she could never have imagined this reality.
    Consciousness came slowly the next morning as Laura lay looking up at the jade green canopy patterned with peach flowers, then snuggled deeper in the comfort of the carved mahogany four-poster that filled the bedroom of their suite.
    Tom’s breathing was still sleep-heavy on the other side of the big bed. Early rays of gold coming in the high windows told Laura the storm had blown itself out, leaving the promise of a more hospitable first day in Victoria than their inauspicious welcome seemed to presage. Moving carefully so as not to awaken Tom, she reached for her journal on the bedside table but knocked the slim pen to the floor. She scrambled to pick it up. Such a nuisance to not have fingernails. She hoisted herself to a semisitting position and began chewing thoughtfully on the end of her pen:
    I’m so thankful Tom agreed to come with me—it’s so good to have him here in bed beside me. I was afraid he’d book a room with twin beds—or even two rooms—the fact that we’re together in this gorgeous antique bed in this lovely old hotel in this romantic city must be a good sign.
    She looked at the tousled head of her sleeping husband.
    It has to be a good sign. I can’t imagine life without him. What would I do? Just the question panics me. But can I possibly hold him? Make him happy? Make him want to stay with me?
    Dear God, in our years of marriage I’ve never really been all I should be. Can I possibly now? Is desperation enough? Help me.
    Tom rolled over and stretched lazily. “I’m hungry.”
    “At least 60 percent stomach.” Laura grinned and scooted out of bed to get dressed. She had spent so many years perfecting the switch from her own forlorn longings to the bantering relationship that held their marriage together that she did it now without thinking.
    When they stepped off the elevator it was evident that after last night’s inhospitality the Empress had returned to her gracious, refined self. The tartan-jacketed gentleman at the carved oak, marble-topped counter pointed across the red-carpeted length of the ivory-pillared lobby filled with Queen Anne furniture. “Down the stairs. Turn right to the Garden Café.” It was much more like being in a stately English mansion than the main lobby of a hotel. Except Tom wouldn’t have been able to