Wynn in the Willows Read Online Free

now, I am coming to you. What happened?”
    Roxie gave a big sigh. “I’ll have to dig through old information to be sure. My memory doesn’t serve me so well these days.”
    “I don’t understand. How can you possibly forget something like that? It seems amnesia runs rampant in our family,” Wynn said.
    Roxie was a clever woman who easily memorized Bible verses and knew everyone’s name on the island. A failed memory was only an excuse. And a poor one, at that. It was obvious her aunt was holding out on her.
    “It’s been a lot of years and I never dwell in the past. If you would be so kind as to allow me to get my facts straight first, I’d appreciate it,” Roxie said, dodging Wynn’s gaze.
    “Uncle Dill recently said it was in the island newspapers for weeks at the time of his death. I want to see the clippings. Do you happen to have them?” Wynn couldn’t wait another moment.
    “I don’t think I saved them. As I told you, I never dwell in the past.”
    Wynn was suspicious and even more determined to find the truth. “Never mind, I’ll take the ferry across to Egg Harbor. The library should have it on microfiche.”
    “Oh, Wynn, some things are better left alone. The past should be left there.” Roxie struggled with her words. “Let the past remain buried. Don’t dig it up.”
    “You mean like Joseph Reed?”
    “What?”
    “The island residents don’t want tourists to dig up the sandy beaches looking for Joseph Reed, and you don’t want me digging up information about my dad. Why is everyone afraid of the past?” Tears burned at the back of her eyes.
    “Oh, all right. If you’re really bent on knowing, I’ll go to Egg Harbor with you. Meanwhile, your priority is that research project. Don’t bother with family trivia for now. Live in the present. Do not look backwards, that is not where your future is.” Roxie spotted a truck pulling into her drive. “Would you check my house plants to see if they need watering, dear? I’ll be back in a moment.”
    Her aunt went outside to greet the young man getting out of the truck with the words, Reed’s Landscaping, printed on the side. So that was Doug Reed, the man Roxie claimed not to like. What was he doing here?
    His face was shaded by the brim of his cap.
    Roxie spoke for a few minutes, and then walked to the front of the house.
    Wynn snatched the watering can, filled it with water, and then moved to another window for a better view.
    Roxie pointed to a tree as he chewed on something that appeared to be a red drinking straw.
    By the time Roxie returned to the cottage, Wynn had watered the plants and the last of the plates had been put away.
    “Thanks for finishing up. Come on, I’ll walk you back to the Tree House. You can help me refill the feeders along the way.” Roxie snatched a straw hat and plopped it on her head. She picked up a small bucket of mixed birdseed. “And your name for the apartment on top of the garage is quite clever. I like it. ‘My Tree House.’ Makes it more homey, more woodsy.”
    Wynn held the tops of bird feeders as Roxie emptied a scoop of seed into each one. At the last one, Wynn spotted a small yellow bird with a black underbelly. “Look!” she pointed. “OK, time for a quiz. What kind is that?”
    “Let me think,” Roxie said. “My mind is crammed so full of interesting things I can’t remember them all. I will look it up in the bird book later.”
    “That’s cheating,” Wynn sweetly chided. “By the way, I like your friends a lot.”
    “Which ones; my feathered garden visitors, or the ladies?”
    “Both.” Wynn looked up. “But I was referring to your friends.”
    “The ladies like you, too, I can tell.” Roxie smiled slightly. “There’s a reason we call her Owl.”
    “Because she’s a plain talker, doesn’t let food go to waste and shoots from the lips?”
    “No. Most nights Owl walks the island, like Anna Reed walked the beach looking for her husband. It’s been happening for as