Excerpt | Blood Orange: Walter
Mary was his big adventure. They made each other feel alive and since her death, Walter had become reserved and alone. He liked California and he liked the solitude of his farm. Although he missed his wife, Walter poured himself into his work rather than die poor and empty from a broken heart.
His blood orange orchard sat apart from anything interesting. He enjoyed being far from prying eyes. He kept his own hours and only hired extra hands when it came time to harvest. That time had passed, and he was alone again.
Alone and content.
Walter parked his car and sat listening to the wind through his empty trees. They stood like giants among the grassy fields, whispering to him the only way they knew how.
Walter was convinced that he was the only one that had ever heard them. Their tiny voices creeping from their leaves and into his ears. Subtle but there. He remembered the first time he heard them and it made his stomach drop, the way the trees reached out and seemed to touch his soul like nothing had ever done before that moment.