The man who was my first everything.
The man who first broke my heart.
The man whose eyes I look into every night when I kiss my son to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
Avonlea – Eighteen Years Ago
I’m hiding in the hedgerow.
Actually, I’m hidingbehindthe hedgerow—its itchy twigs scratching at my arms—as I try to see through to the other side. To the inn next door to my grandparents’ farm, where the boy with the red hair is running around in the garden.
This is my first time spending the summer in Cluaran, but I didn’t think I’d be this nervous. Excited, sure, but not feeling like there’s a whole flight of butterflies gathering in my belly. I’ve always spent summer holidays at camp or with family friends while Mum and Dad ran the pub. When they had time off, I’d skip camp and we’d go on adventures around Glasgow or to other parts of Scotland—sometimes down to England.
This year though, they thought it might be fun for me to spend a summer on the farm where Mum grew up. I’m not sure about it. Grannie and Papa aren’t the mostfunpeople. At least the farm seems okay—I guess.
I spot the boy again—a boy my age—as he flies through a muddy puddle in a pair of Wellingtons. Thatdoeslook fun.
I’m not sure why I’m hiding except that I don’t know him. I don’t know anyone here, or what the rules are. Mum and Dad are still inside talking over the details for the next six weeks and they told me to play in the garden.
But I’d rather play inhisgarden…
When I lose sight of the boy through the small hole in the hedge, I sneak around it, hoping to find him again. Before I can blink, I come nose to nose with him. I squeak in surprise, stumbling backward, and land flat on my backside in the mud.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” His face crumples, eyebrows drawing down behind round glasses. His cheeks have turned the same shade of red as his hair.
“You didn’t,” I say firmly, but he totally did. And now my shorts are ruined.Mum is going to kill me.
He extends his hand and I slide mine into it, letting him pull me up. Up close, he’s taller than I expected. I thought he was my age, but maybe he’s older?
“I’m Jamie.” The color on his cheeks darkens as he grins down at me. “Did you just move in? Are you going to be living here now? How old are you? Do you want to come play?”
The nervous and apologetic boy from a minute ago is gone, replaced by this energetic one bursting with questions. I giggle and he stops, eyeing me again.
Does he think I’m laughingathim?
“I’m ten. I’m here for the summer and staying with my grandparents.” I nod toward the farmhouse behind me.
“I’m ten too! You’ll be here all summer? Right next door?” His voice rises with excitement and his green eyes shine.
I nod again. “I guess so. Do you live there?” I point at the inn.
I never thought of people actuallylivingat the inns I’ve stayed at, but maybe they do.
It’s his turn to nod emphatically. “My grandparents own it. But we don’t liveinthe inn. We live in the cottage behind it.”
“What about your parents?”
“They live here too, but they work at the distillery in town. So now that school’s out, I have the run of this place.” He straightens his shoulders and stands a little taller, projecting his voice like he means business. “What’s your name?”
“Avonlea,” I say, and attempt to dust the grass and mud off my shorts. I guess white shorts weren’t the best choice to wear to the farm. But they’re cute and matched my trainers—and the bow in my hair. “But you can call me Avi… if you want.”
I’ve always wanted a nickname, and in this new town I can be whoever I want to be. Today that’s Avi.
“Okay! So, can I show you something?” He throws a thumb over his shoulder, and my eyes follow it to the inn’s garden. It’s filled with moss-covered trees and wildflowers and little pathways that sprawlout around the front of the property. It’s really pretty. Definitely more groomed than my grandparents’ front garden.
I bite my lip and look back toward the house. I should ask Mum, but they’re still inside. I won’t beveryfar away. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
