🏞 Exploring the valley beyond the grove
It had started with a walk, a simple turn around the grove before their evening meal, to get their bodies acclimated back to solid ground and for Kate to –– well, there was a multitude of reasons. It had been a few days since she'd seen Will at the market. Part of her wanted to know what his mother had thought of the bouquet she'd helped him with. A smaller, softer part of her wanted to tell him that she'd pressed the delicate petals of the hydrangea he'd given her into her sketchbook, and that it lived within those pages even now. But the last thing she wanted to do was make her friend uncomfortable by calling attention to his actions. For all that he was kind, for all that he listened, for all that he heard and understood, she knew that if she were to call attention to his gift, he'd pull away and she'd see neither hide nor hair of him for a fortnight, if not longer.
Will had sent her that flower precisely because he would not (or could not) articulate those words to her. She would never torture him by trying to force him into speech when he had no words.
And so she –– wound as tight as a spring and full of tension from the events on her boat –– saw Will standing near the tables laden with food, and felt her muscles begin to relax. Mere moments later, they were walking through the grove in companionable quiet, and Kate had the distinct feeling they were both soaking in the silence, allowing it to ease the events of the day like hot bathwater running over their skin. Or maybe she was just projecting. Either way, she, at least, was grateful to have seen him.
Even more so when they reached the edge of the grove, where the earth dipped and sloped down beneath their feet to give way to a meadow of wildflowers, and a warmth like homecoming spread within Kate's ribcage. She had a sudden, childish urge to run through them, to drop down onto her back and roll around in the fragrant blooms like a kid in the snow. She wanted to immerse herself in the blooms. She wanted to hold this moment in her mind forever, the sun starting to set and bathing all the wildflowers in a golden glow, Will relaxed and steady beside her. Kate knew, in an instant, she could spend the rest of her life trying to paint this scene, and never quite manage to capture the magic of it. She opened her mouth to say something –– how beautiful it was, how she had no idea something like this was hiding here, something, anything. But she closed her mouth, and instead she rested the side of her arm against his, and when he looked down at her, a question on his face, she smiled sheepishly. "I don't want to disturb them," she whispered, as if the flowers had ears, and were as likely to flee from compliments as Will was.
