Follow My Lead Episode 32
The breeze whispered in the trees, fluttering the leafy canopy above her.
Lydia tipped her head back and stood still, mesmerised by the way the sunlight glanced off the underside of the leaves. It was like molten silver.
“Silver birch.”
The name came to her and she felt a tiny surge of pride.
That was Cyrus’s doing. She had never been able to name trees before, and she was finding it satisfying to learn more from him about the natural world around her.
She drew a deep breath and felt the woodland working its magic. She had needed this.
Her mind was spinning. So much had happened in such a short time.
She ambled on, not heading in any particular direction, but soon realised she was retracing the first walk Cyrus had taken her on.
Remembering the challenges of that route, she glanced at her feet. White satin plimsolls.
Thoughts of Basil encroached, and she felt them souring her contentment. Something to think about another time.
She focused on Danielle. She had been buzzing when she came home last night, her news spilling out of her in an excited torrent.
That had been cause for celebration and they’d treated themselves to ice-cream after supper.
Reaching the stream, she picked her way across carefully.
She made it, then glanced back, unreasonably pleased with herself.
“Well, look at you!” she exclaimed. “You’ve cracked this rural life.”
It was true, though, she realised. She remembered that first day she’d woken up in Thornville.
It had all felt so alien, with agricultural smells and noise.
She doubted any of that had gone away; she’d simply stopped noticing it.
The coffee van, the farm shop, the visiting library and the fish van were part of the rhythm of life here. It was a rhythm she had tuned into.
“I’m happy.” The notion dropped into her thoughts like a pebble into a pool.
She wandered on, instinct leading her along the path she only vaguely remembered.
She emerged from the woodland into a clearing that was definitely familiar.
There was the pretty lake, the weeping willow and the fallen tree where she had sat with Cyrus.
She blinked to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. Cyrus was there, as if her thoughts had summoned him.
The sight of him made her stomach flip. She acknowledged what it meant.
It was Cyrus she was drawn to. Cyrus that she liked and felt comfortable with.
Basil was a good friend, but he didn’t make her feel like this.
The knowledge crystalised her resolve to speak to him soon.
Friends, yes, but no more than that.
It was Cyrus who had crept into her heart.
Her footsteps were muffled by the soft grass, but he must have heard her because he looked up.
The smile that broke over his face told her he was happy to see her.
She felt suddenly shy.
“Hi. May I join you?”
“Always,” he replied, and shuffled along the tree trunk, making room for her.
Cyrus pointed up at the cloudless blue above them. The piping call and response of two birds reached her as they drifted in lazy circles.
“Buzzards,” Cyrus told her. “In perfect harmony.”
Their shoulders touching, they sat there in silent contemplation.
Lydia doubted she had ever felt so perfectly at peace with the world.