Chapter Ten
The world was easing out of winter, thawing into spring. Approaching Haliday House again, I noticed the gardens, remembering them from every dream as lush and indulgent, as much a part of the house as the porch that swept around its side and the gables in the roofline and the stained glass windows. In my dreams the scent of sexuality poured sweetly from the garden—almost as though the house itself lent its fragrance to the aroma of sensuous grace. We stopped to admire the new roses, which were growing shoots at every angle. They’d been carefully tended. Primroses, and Daffodils and Lilies of the Valley looked as though they grew wild in one bed near the street, while closer to the house the garden was more manicured. Old vines, clinging to trellises were beginning to sprout wi
