Autumn - Book 1 E-Book

Romano Arria

• Herausgeber: So Romance - INT
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Serie: Autumn
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 412

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

In Vermont, Autumn, a mute and withdrawn young woman, attracts Lieutenant Jay Ranson in an inexplicable way... Will he be able to give her back her voice?
What dangers await this atypical young couple? Follow Jay and Autumn, between Germany and the United States in this new, erotic, and surprising romance!
WHAT THE CRITICS THINK
A blend of classic and modern romance. The author's poetic and refined style is highly addictive and will surely seduce romantic souls! - Mya, Les Etoiles Des Bibliothèques
Emotion flows strongly from this author's pen, whose style is very readable and addictive. She knows how to lead her story to keep us in suspense and let us have a great time reading. We become friends with our heroes, we experience things with them, we tremble, we laugh, we cry with them. - Tiffany62670, Babelio
I just finished volume one. A magnificent and moving story, full of suspense and romance; I hope to have the sequel soon. - Elodie-Casas, Booknode

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Arria Romano studies military history at the Sorbonne and is passionate about literature and art. For several years, she has been writing historical novels and romances—whether they take place in the past, the present, or are even shrouded in a veil of magic… as long as love and passion remain the central thread of the story.

Leseprobe

Cover

Title page

Prologue

Boston, Massachusetts

October 9, 1991

Leaves were falling like snow, and the whistling wind pounded against the windows of the houses. The gray sky loomed ominously, and the intense smell of dampness heralded a deluge that night, orchestrated by the booming of thunder. Bad weather, mysterious yet so conducive to romance, according to the romantic Hensley sisters.

Sitting on the bay window seat of their shared room, Autumn and Lorelei watched the dizzying and magical dance of the fallen leaves with fascination, swirling and graceful. They twirled with the fervor of dancers from days gone by, brushing against their windows as if inviting them to join, before disappearing in a breath towards the corners of the city.

From their shared room, the two sisters could admire the historic neighborhood of Boston, the centuries-old monuments, and the buildings dotted with thousands of pale lights, resembling battalions of fireflies neatly arranged, casting a reassuring glow over the streets.

“I wish I were a leaf,” Lorelei confided, sighing dreamily.

At thirteen, she was the elder sister. Blonde, with green eyes and a porcelain English face enhanced by a maternal temperament, the young girl possessed a beauty and kindness that her younger sister admired with devotion.

“But you’re already a mermaid!” retorted Autumn, revealing a toothless smile, a charm that always softened the hardest of hearts.

Lorelei turned her gaze back to her seven-year-old sister and smiled lovingly. Autumn, a name that the she had suggested to their parents on the day of her sister’s birth, on a beautiful fall’s evening, was a girl as endearing as she was affectionate. Everything about her exuded the sweetness and warmth of a sincere, romantic, and kind soul. With her long wavy hair, a hue caught between chocolate brown and the auburn of maple leaves, her cinnamon eyes, and cheeks as rosy and velvety as a peach in autumn, she resembled the portraits of children painted in the Victorian era.

“A mermaid… if I am one, then so are you.”

“No, I’m a painter trapped in a tower of ivory by a witch who wants all my paintings, and I’m waiting for a knight with blue eyes,” Autumn corrected with a mischievous smile.

“A painter? Don’t you want to be a princess?”

Autumn shook her head to signify no.

“A princess is too much trouble… I’d rather be a painter and marry a simple knight, brave and kind.”

Lorelei was taken aback by her sister’s pragmatism and let out a crystalline laugh.

“It’s true that it’s more peaceful. A king or a prince easily attracts other girls… like Aeneas, Ulysses, or Theseus… which story do you want tonight?”

During their free time, Lorelei often lulled her sister with tales of love, etched in collective memory and borrowed from cultures around the world.

“Achilles and Briseis,” Autumn exclaimed enthusiastically.

Lorelei opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly, a piercing sound of breaking dishes echoed from downstairs. The sisters exchanged perplexed glances before leaping together towards the stairs. They descended quietly and soon heard the sounds of several voices: those of their parents and a third person, a man, evidently.

“… please, Francis, regain your composure and follow me outside. I’ll take you back to the hospital, and we’ll have plenty of time to talk.”

The voice was smooth, warm, fitting for a tamer trying to calm a predator on the hunt. It was their mother. She must have been addressing a patient who had fled the hospital where she worked as a psychiatrist.

“I don’t want to go back to the hospital. I want to stay here,” shouted a male voice, rising in pitch.

“We need to go back to get your medication, Francis. You’ll feel better afterward.”

“NO!”

The hearts of the two sisters raced like the wings of two caged birds, a bad premonition clinging to their bones, but they couldn’t help but make their way to the kitchen from where the three voices rose.

Lorelei led her younger sister by the hand and was the first to discover the scene unfolding in their home: a young man with a gaunt face, pale as death and sweating profusely, was threatening their parents with a handgun, cornered in the kitchen with shards of dishes at their feet.

Reflexively, Autumn gasped in shock upon realizing the dangerous situation they were in, drawing the attention of the assailant. He had a shaved head, bloodshot eyes, a face overshadowed by a mask of madness, and wore a winter sweater embroidered with the head of a deer.

Only a man possessed by a demon could wear such an expression.

“Girls, go back upstairs,” their father ordered in an imperative tone, but those words seemed to shake the man named Francis, and in a surge of nervousness, he pulled the trigger of his gun, hitting their father in the chest.

There were screams, blood splattered, and Autumn felt lost in the unfolding events. She saw her mother lean over her father’s now convulsing body, backed against the wall, clutching his bleeding chest, breathless and with glassy eyes… then, another shot rang out, as menacing as thunder, and it was her mother who fell beside her husband.

An infinite scream of pain erupted from her small chest as Lorelei quickly dragged her into their room, which she then locked tightly and barricaded with furniture, including a heavy dresser that Autumn helped her push into place.

“We have to hide…” Lorelei gasped, her eyes shimmering with tears and terror, like a fawn that knows it is lost. “Whatever you do, don’t make a sound… even your breathing has to be silent.”

They heard the stairs creak, knowing it would take only a few seconds for their parents’ murderer to reach them. They were cornered.

With a calmness she had never suspected, Lorelei led a tearful but compliant Autumn towards a hidden cavity in their dressing room, which their father had created to cache jewelry and money, opened it quickly, emptied it by throwing everything onto their clothes, and forced her younger sister to slip inside, only to come out when the police arrived. The hiding place was cramped, barely enough room for a little girl, but Autumn managed to curl up inside, her breath somewhat stifled.

In the distance, they heard the mad howls of their pursuer and trembled like the fallen leaves in the breeze.

“Be quiet, Autumn. It’s a matter of life and death.”

Lorelei closed the hiding place and concealed it behind a laundry basket, then left the dressing room, carefully shutting the door behind her as it shook under Francis’s furious assaults.

Panicked but reflective at the same time, she opened one of the windows in their room to jump from the first floor and seek help outside. The sky had draped itself in black clouds, and a lightning bolt zigzagged through this sinister harmony when a dry, burning gust swept into the room, trailing a myriad of fallen leaves.

It was at that moment that the door gave way under Francis’s force, and the trap closed around Lorelei. Perched on the windowsill, ready to jump, she did not expect to be shot in the back. The brutality of the impact tore a damned scream from her, and that cry echoed deep within Autumn, who, still hidden in her refuge, perceived all the sounds around her despite her hands pressed against her ears. She too wanted to scream, to find her sister and parents, but remained confined in a deathly silence, completely paralyzed.

Lorelei fell from the window, like a fluttering leaf, then sprawled on the sidewalk in a pool of blood, the brave victim of a man’s madness.

Autumn could only imagine the fate of her elder sister and forced herself to hold back her tears as their demon ransacked their room with ferocity. It seemed as if a herd of wild boars had just invaded the space.

He passed through the dressing room, wreaking monstrous havoc, knocking all their clothes and toys to the ground, but never laid a hand on Autumn.

“Where are you?” the man shouted hysterically.

Seconds fell like drops of steel in the little girl’s mind, her heart pounded in her chest like a hammer on an anvil, her muscles knotted with tension from the discomfort of her position… but she managed to remain docile and silent as her sister had ordered.

She had no idea how long she remained crouched inside that suffocating wall, her body twisted and her throat locked like a vise… but in the storm that had now invaded her home, she heard the deafening sirens of a police car, the forceful intervention of others, threats, then another shot, followed by the dull sound of a body hitting the ground.

An hour later, when police officers and caregivers found Autumn in her hiding place, the little girl resembled nothing more than a shadow of herself, as silent and stoic as a puppet.

No words crossed the barrier of her lips.

Silence was her survival.

Chapter 1

Böblingen, Germany

Thirteen years later, autumn 2004

There was the usual bustle at the Panzer Kaserne, the American military base that had been established on German soil for decades, where soldiers and officers from various branches of the U.S. Army mingled. While this proximity strengthened their bonds, particularly between the U.S. Marines and the men of the 10th Special Forces Group, it also sparked friendly competition, each wanting to prove the superiority of their regiment through athletic and intellectual feats.

A born competitor, Jay Ransom loved to take on the challenges thrown at him by his comrades and to demonstrate how the special forces, the Green Berets, were superior to the Marines. It was a matter of temperament and uniform, in his view.

“I bet $50 that Ransom takes down Jeffrey in the obstacle course!” shouted Howard Payton, an officer from the 10th Special Forces Group, an African American man wearing a brown Bavarian hat that clashed with his camouflage uniform.

“Jeffrey is an athletics champion! Impossible to beat,” chimed in another soldier, this time attached to the Marine Corps. “No one has ever beaten him in our ranks! I bet $100 on him.”

“I’ll raise the stakes on Ransom and wager $150!”

Howard then approached Jay, the tall white guy with jet-black hair, who towered over him by a head and stunned all who looked at him with his intense, icy blue-gray eyes, reminiscent of Turquin marble. The two men had known each other for four years and had been promoted to the rank of lieutenant in the Green Berets together, training their subordinates with equal amounts of firmness and kindness.

“Ransom, you’d better shut them up, or I’ll kick your ass,” his brother-in-arms whispered to him.

“I won’t let a Marine steal my victory, Payton,” Jay assured in a low, calm voice. “I’ve won every obstacle course I’ve done so far. Jeffrey is too heavy; he won’t take it.”

Jay turned his attention back to his opponent, Sergeant Jeffrey, a tall blond man with a rosy complexion, a few years younger than him but bulked up with significant muscle mass. He resembled a walking tree trunk, ready to come crashing down at the slightest spark of anger.

Jay was muscular like most soldiers, but he stood out with a more graceful slenderness that Sergeant Jeffrey had likely lost due to overindulging in a high-protein diet.

“Yeah, you’re right. You never lose at anything, obviously,” Howard remarked, scanning the training ground where they had gathered, allowing him to spot among the makeshift spectators a young blonde woman in a vibrant blue autumn dress. “Looks like Colonel Welsh’s daughter has come to cheer you on.”

Jay turned halfway and discovered the stunning blonde sculpture of a woman admiring him from a few meters away. It was Leslie Welsh, the daughter of a distinguished colonel, who had become a military nurse for the Marines. Her beauty allowed her to model in her spare time, making most of the men in the barracks as vegetative as asparaguses. But only Jay seemed to hold her interest. For the past four months, they had been meeting for secret, passionate embraces, with only Howard and his wife Tonya as accomplices.

In the distance, Jay saw Leslie smile at him, to which he responded with a nod. The lieutenant was rather reserved in his manner of expressing himself, especially since they were not supposed to be close. Officially, the young woman was already engaged to another man, a Marine lieutenant colonel whom Jay had heard about in the news for his public appearances.

“You definitely can’t lose with her around,” Howard added mischievously.

Though Jay was not a compulsive seducer and a womanizer, he was no different from other men when it came to impressing the fairer sex.

He nodded, then turned away from Leslie to join the other guys in his regiment, busy raising the stakes with their rival brothers. There, he found Sergeant Jeffrey, bolstered by his bulk and the cheers of his comrades, and listened to the Marine captain speak:

“My little Green Berets, the bets have changed. It’s not about money any more, but about dares. If Sergeant Jeffrey wins, you’ll have to give a filmed speech on the superiority of the Marines… in pink thongs. That goes without saying.”

Howard and the twelve other soldiers from the 10th Special Forces Group present exchanged skeptical glances, except for Jay, who returned a cryptic grin. The Marine captain’s threat did not frighten him, and this dare called for another, equally humiliating.

With a confident look at his friends, he spoke on behalf of the Green Berets in his strong voice, modulated to give orders and deliver political speeches:

“We accept your condition, but if I win, you’ll have to dye your pubic hair green, in homage to the berets we wear with valor.”

The Marines grimaced at Jay, while his friends greeted this formality with approving chuckles.

“Now that’s an interesting wager,” a feminine voice chimed in from the side, sprinkled with a Texan accent, and Jay knew it was Leslie. “Captain Browning, your wife wouldn’t like to know you have green hair down there. Don’t let this Yankee win.”

Jay was from Vermont, in New England, and all his comrades from the south, the midwest, or even New York enjoyed calling him “Yankee.”

He turned his head toward the young woman and locked eyes with her azure gaze, a warmer and brighter blue than the shade of his own eyes. A hint of a smile floated on his masculine lips, neither too thin nor too thick, tinged with just the right amount of sensuality.

Leslie loved to admire the daring and somewhat gruff lieutenant, who had treated her with such coldness before succumbing to her charms. From the first glance, she had found him to her liking. A strong build, powerful muscles, a noble face with high cheekbones and thick eyebrows, drawn like two black lines above his eyes, which were themselves dominated by perfectly cut eyelids that emphasized the depth of his gaze. Not to mention the very dignified and slightly furrowed expression he wore daily, which she adored seeing crumble every time pleasure loomed.

“My wife wouldn’t like that at all. That’s why Sergeant Jeffrey is going to win,” Captain Browning added, casting a pointed look at his champion. “Come on, get into position, gentlemen.”

Sergeant Jeffrey moved away toward a white line painted on the fresh grass of a field set aside for their military training and sporting entertainment. An obstacle course awaited them for an athletic race worthy of the most demanding courses.

Jay followed suit, and Leslie watched him, noticing the wind tousling his thick, straight hair, cut short but not shaved like most of his comrades. She could already imagine pulling his hair while he took her tonight, in the intimacy of his lieutenant’s quarters.

“Maybe you want to lighten up a bit?” Howard suggested, joining Jay, who was already busy unbuttoning his camouflage jacket to keep only his khaki t-shirt tucked into cargo pants.

His military dog tags hung around his neck, brushing against his beautifully sculpted chest. Leslie never tired of admiring the contours of this athlete’s physique and shivered with emotion. Jay was not the only masculine beauty in this gathering of testosterone-fueled men, but she melted only at the sight of him.

“You ready, guys?”

Howard had just addressed Jay and Sergeant Jeffrey, positioned a meter apart, their muscles now coiled for an imminent start. Each nodded, ready for action.

“At the first whistle…”

The spectators fell silent in unison, and after a silent pause that seemed to last an eternity, the starting whistle blew like the cry of a war horn to the sky. Muscles relaxed, Jay and Sergeant Jeffrey took off at the same time. While the young Marine with the rosy complexion resembled a buffalo charging into a frenzied crowd, ready to smash anything in his path, Jay ran and leaped over walls with the agility of a cheetah, climbed ropes and beams like a monkey, all while sliding through the mud with the fluidity of a snake.

The Marines and Green Berets showered their comrades with encouragement as they witnessed the breathless and incredible, almost animalistic performance. Sergeant Jeffrey was an excellent contender, yet Jay emerged as the true master of the obstacle course. It took guts to want to beat him at this game.

“Come on, Ransom!” Howard yelled, nearly bursting his lungs.

Covered in mud and sweat, Jay and Sergeant Jeffrey were relentlessly nearing the end of the course. Their proximity kept their admirers on edge, but in a final burst of speed, as he was accustomed to doing to unseat his opponents, Jay drew on his last reserves of strength and executed a sprint that distanced him by about two meters from the sergeant, propelling him toward the finish line. His victory elicited a chorus of joyful shouts and filled Leslie with pride, even if she kept it hidden.

“Ransom! You’re a real feline!” exclaimed an officer from the 10th Special Forces Group.

Breathing heavily, his body and face splattered with mud in places, Jay held onto his sides, flashing a brilliant white smile, even brighter against the dirt. Sergeant Jeffrey soon joined him and acknowledged his performance while the Marines grimaced in disappointment. The worst of the ridicule was yet to come for them, and Jay made sure to remind them. With a mischievous look that Captain Browning dreamed of erasing with a punch, he turned to the gathering of Marines and declared:

“The time for dyeing has come, gentlemen.”

Leslie’s blonde hair brushed against Jay’s bare chest as he stared at the ceiling, lying on the camp mattress they shared, tightly entwined, his mind slightly dulled by the fatigue of their lovemaking. The young woman had joined him two hours earlier, after midnight, once she had ensured that no one would see her in the Green Berets’ corridors. It was clearly a clandestine habit since they had become lovers, and until now, their affair had been as unsuspected as the wind at night.

“I’m going to miss you, Jay,” she murmured, tracing her fingers over the sculpted and golden contours of the warm, muscular chest that supported her.

“I’m only leaving for two weeks.”

“Two weeks is a long time… long enough to see roses bloom and wither, to fly around the globe several times… to fall in love.”

“It’s hard to fall in love in two weeks.”

“Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

“That’s good for movies.”

“I’d forgotten how romantic you are,” she sighed, ironically.

“It’s not my thing, sorry.”

Jay had never made love a priority. All his energy was devoted to his father, his dog, his military career, and traveling. He was an adventurer at heart, an independent and wild spirit like the gusts of a raging sea, eager to discover as many countries as fate would allow.

“If what you told me is true, your father would like to see you married before you turn thirty,” Leslie added in a somewhat monotone voice.

“That gives me two more years to choose the one I want. You’ve found yours in Texas.”

“Melvyn is my father’s choice… I like him a lot, but I don’t think I’ll ever experience passion with him.”

“That’s why your marriage will be steady and solid.”

“Yeah, maybe… are the girls pretty in Vermont?”

“You can find pearls even in a remote corner,” Jay noted with a touch of sarcasm.

He propped himself up slightly without loosening his embrace around the pale, curvy, fragrant body he had cradled for hours, then found a more comfortable position that allowed him to look her in the eyes. Leslie had light eyes, beautifully almond-shaped and lined with a stroke of black eyeliner that hadn’t smudged despite great physical exertion. She had doe-like eyes and used them expertly when she needed to get something from a man.

Jay had been sensitive to her charm from their first meeting but had strived to appear indifferent, detached. He didn’t like to come across as a lovesick fool, even less so as a weak spirit that a single smile could make surrender. However, the more inaccessible and distant he was, the more Leslie’s interest grew. In the end, this high-flying seductress had gotten what she wanted after several months of interminable patience, the fruits of which were, however, delectable. Jay was worth all the men she had known so far and appeared to her as the ideal partner, both sexually and in their outlook on the future. Yet, a barrier always stood between them, obstructing the path to the lieutenant’s heart. Leslie knew he was not the type to easily yield when it came to feelings…

“I thought you loved Vermont,” she continued, her voice thick with her southern accent.

“I have ties there. After all, that’s where I was born. But I was born to travel.”

“Once our assignment in Germany is over, we could always take a trip together, just the two of us. Before my wedding.”

Jay fixed his penetrating gaze on her, slightly veiled by the dim light. Leslie was an accomplished woman, perfect in many respects, and she would willingly embrace wild lands, participating in activities that others wouldn’t dare to imagine. Leslie was an adventurer; otherwise, she wouldn’t have joined the Marines. She was also proud and a bit reckless, which encouraged her to take on challenges purely out of pride, just to prove her capabilities to the world. Jay loved her flair and enthusiasm, but he didn’t know if he could tolerate her for a long time, without other people to populate their environment.

“We’ll see,” was his response.

Like a dominating lioness, Leslie grew excited and simultaneously irritated by her lover’s sobriety. Often, she couldn’t probe his thoughts, and this lack of control over her partner both baffled and spurred her. The blonde vamp wanted him all to herself but questioned the nature of her motivations: was it out of love or pride? Was it arrogant pleasure that drove her to try and possess the mysterious and independent Lieutenant Ransom?

“While I work on convincing you for that project, I propose a more immediate sensory journey…” Leslie whispered with a goddess-like gaze, her body sliding over Jay’s chest to offer him this moment of pleasure that he generously enjoyed.

Later that morning, Jay went to retrieve his little brother-in-arms from the military dog brigade on the base, a magnificent Belgian Malinois with a charcoal fawn coat, five years old, who had followed his master everywhere since they met at Fort Carson, Colorado, when he was just a puppy.

“Lafayette!”

Among the small gathering of war dogs, where Malinois mingled with Labradors and German Shepherds playing with a ball in the heart of a hangar, all supervised by an officer in charge of keeping them, his dog instantly perked up and looked in his direction. Jay was dressed in civilian clothes to take the flight that would soon take them to Vermont, to Robert Ransom, the lieutenant’s father.

Lafayette barked with excitement, as he did every time his master appeared, then dashed toward him. Besides his sleek silhouette and natural energy, the dog stood out due to his disability. A couple months earlier, during a search mission among the rubble of a building in Iraq, the brave canine soldier had been shot in his left hind leg, which had to be amputated to prevent gangrene. Jay had been mortified, but to his surprise, dogs had recovered astonishingly well, and it took Lafayette only a handful of days to bounce back from his condition.

Now, his companion lived as if he had never lost one of his legs and threw himself back into canine athletics with characteristic dynamism. However, as a disabled veteran, he could no longer go on missions, and Jay had thought of entrusting him to his father, who himself had been confined to a wheelchair since a car accident while on police duty. Fortunately, good old Robert had found himself a woman, whom he was going to marry in a week, and whose passion for animals was well-known.

These new owners would be ideal for Lafayette.

Jay crouched down to embrace his dog, showering him with affectionate caresses, then slipped a leash into the red collar he wore around his neck.

“Come on, Lafayette, it’s time to see Dad.”

“Not so fast, Yankee,” chimed in Howard’s playful voice from behind him. “We need to see what kind of auspices your trip will take place under first.”

“I’m going back to Vermont, not to the front.”

Jay spoke as he stood tall, then faced his friend, who held a plate of fortune cookies in one hand. Since they had known each other, the two men had enjoyed gorging themselves on these mythical cookies for the simple pleasure of reading the fortunes they contained.

“Tonya ordered Chinese and a whole bag of cookies. I just ate one, and I was promised a windfall.”

Tonya was Howard’s wife and lived in the housing complex that the base offered to American families who had come to follow their loved ones in the military to Germany. While Jay chose to live in his lieutenant’s room, his best friend occupied a comfortable apartment with his wife and their two children.

“If that’s true, I’ll buy you a villa on the French Riviera!” Howard continued with a wink.

“Right, maybe a little fridge magnet of one?”

“Don’t be a skeptic… take one.”

Jay complied, broke a cookie between his thumb and index finger, then grabbed the piece of paper inside and unwrapped it. He read aloud in a mocking tone the phrase printed out the slip:

“The hour of love will soon ring.”

Howard raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty ironic for someone who flees sentimentality.”

Jay pretended that he was impervious to matters of love to everyone. In reality, it was a subject of tacit concern for him, one that was unnecessary to confess. His seeming coldness and very cynical speeches suited his character as an unflappable lieutenant.

Chapter 2

Stowe, Vermont

The next day

Autumn in Vermont was legendary.

If Jay loved anything about his home state, it was the enchanting, breathtaking landscape that its lush forests offered during the twilight season. A burst of russet leaves, thousands of orange and red carpets, an intoxicating scent of maple lingering in the air, mingling with the denser aromas of the picturesque small towns, standing like precious shells in this wild rural setting.

Jay was proud to have been born in Vermont, even if the confines of the region could not provide the adventures he had always yearned for. But returning to his roots stirred a feeling of nostalgia and relief.

“So, are you happy to be back, Lafayette?” Jay asked his dog as they drove through the small town of Stowe in a taxi.

The soldier and his dog had landed at Burlington Airport in the middle of the day, where his father had been living just a few months earlier before moving to the village of Stowe, home to only four thousand souls. The place was known for its ski resort, its woods, and its majestic mountains, and Jay remembered all the winter stays he had spent there with his parents. His mother’s death had disrupted their family routine, and it had been thirteen years since he had set foot in the area. In over a decade, the town seemed to have changed little, except for the proliferation of grocery and clothing stores.

Stowe, like most towns in Vermont, had the air of an old village, quiet and worthy of a Grimm fairytale. The architecture of the monuments, buildings, and houses reflected the history of European settlers, revealing their passage through these lands and giving charm to these modest havens of peace, so bright and admirable, spared from the massive modernization that ruled in the metropolises.

His father had settled here to start a new life with his future wife, Veronica Hammer, a former French teacher who now taught yoga to the residents of Stowe. They had met a year earlier in Montpelier, the capital of Vermont, and the spark was such that Robert hadn’t even waited two weeks to propose. Jay had never met his stepmother in person, but he knew she was exceptional and kind enough to love his father as much as he loved her.

Jay was delighted to know that Robert had finally found someone to take his mother’s place. His bereavement had lasted too long; the mourning had stretched over several years of pain and voluntary seclusion, so dark that the soldier had once wondered if his father would be happier in death… until he unexpectedly met Veronica.

As they were just a few minutes’ drive from the couple’s home, Jay noticed a florist on his left and asked the driver to stop there. He paid him, thanked him with a generous tip, and then got out of the vehicle, dragging Lafayette along, his military backpack slung over his shoulder. Even in civilian clothes, consisting of dark jeans, a pair of black Rangers, and a thick khaki hoodie emblazoned with the Timberland logo, there was no doubt about his profession. His military bearing and natural authority were evident.

The reason Jay had stopped in front of the florist was that he thought a beautiful bouquet of flowers could break the ice for his first meeting with Veronica.

Without wasting any time, Jay and Lafayette walked toward the red brick Georgian-style building where the charming florist’s shop was located, then entered. As the door opened, it rang the little bells hanging on the doorframe and revealed a concentrated blend of scents that tickled their noses. Jay had a sense of smell as sensitive as his dog’s and sneezed involuntarily at the overwhelming fragrances surrounding him. After this initial sensory encounter, the lieutenant scanned the space with his analytical gaze, admiring the clever mix of refinement and rusticity that reigned in the place, between the raw woodwork and the pastel-colored walls, beautifully decorated with floral and animal paintings that reminded him of the frescoes in the German castles he had had the opportunity to visit.

The presence of countless colorful flowers, of which he knew only a tenth of the species, only enhanced the beauty of this unique place. For a brief moment, he felt as if he were in one of those pastoral and slightly surreal watercolors that European artists loved to sell to tourists.

Soon, Jay saw that there was no one at the shop counter, but he spotted a female figure, of average height and slender, clad in a slightly oversized denim overalls, a long-sleeved red t-shirt, and perched atop a three-meter ladder, her back turned to him as she faced the right side wall, a paintbrush in hand. The stranger did not seem to have heard him, which pleased the soldier, as he felt the desire to observe her unnoticed, much like an art lover admiring the still figures in a painting.

Even from behind, this woman had something captivating about her. He was certainly mesmerized by her long, wavy ponytail, thick and a warm chestnut-red, with amber and mahogany highlights. His mother had had hair of that hue, and like her, small wavy strands fell gracefully on the stranger’s long, white neck. This woman must have had a regal bearing. Indeed, the way she held herself on the ladder was graceful, as was the manner in which she manipulated her brush in the air.

After what felt like an eternity of daydreaming, Jay decided to catch her attention by calling out:

“Excuse me?”

No response.

It took the lieutenant just a second to notice the earbuds in the stranger’s ears and deduce the presence of an MP3 player in the right pocket of her overalls.

To make himself seen, Jay moved to the side of the ladder, more than a meter below her, and waved his hand. According to human peripheral vision, he was now entering her line of sight. Indeed, the stranger noticed him immediately, rather surprised, and shifted on the ladder to get a better look at him; unfortunately, her grace did not prevent clumsiness, and in a sudden movement of her foot, she knocked her small pot of peony pink paint over the side.

Jay flinched as he read a spark of panic in the woman’s eyes and ignored the small pot of paint that was falling straight toward him. He heard a soft exclamation, very faint, followed by several barks as the thick texture of the intensely scented paint splattered all over his head, face, and the top of his clothes.

Bravo.

It was an interesting way to celebrate his arrival in Stowe.

As he stood frozen, a bit taken aback by this turn of events, Jay heard the stranger rush down the ladder to stand in front of him, confused and astonished by her clumsiness. With a steady gesture, he pulled a handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his face, starting with his brow and the tops of his eyes. He felt as ridiculous as could be at that moment, but it was just an accident, and anger would not be fitting, especially since her demeanor softened him.

Jay did not hear her mumble incoherent apologies, but he saw her wringing her hands and furrowing her delicate brown brows. She was younger than he had suspected at first glance, perhaps twenty or twenty-one years old. No words came from her mouth, but he could sense her breath quickening. He could hear the rustle of her breath, the nervousness swelling in her chest. However, what completely swept away any irritation from his mind was the wide-eyed, innocent, and incredibly bright look she held on him. A silver veil covered her cinnamon-toned eyes, speckled here and there with brown and golden flecks.

A wave of warmth fiercely seized Jay and made him dizzy. It seemed to him that this scene had already played out in his memories… as if he had been waiting for this encounter for a long time.

As mute as she appeared to be, Jay gazed at the stranger, barely containing his astonishment. The shop could have caught fire, and he would not have managed to tear his eyes away from that porcelain face, as if painted by a delicate and loving hand, eager to embody in her portrait the allegory of sweetness and angelic beauty. This stranger was as beautiful as a source of light, as the morning dew, or as a barely bloomed orchid.

Seeing her so embarrassed by the incident troubled him, and after wiping his face blindly, he said in a low voice:

“I’ve never been greeted in such… an original way.”

The stranger lifted her head a little more in his direction, thus pointing her small dimpled chin toward the ceiling. She had a heart-shaped face, peach-colored cheeks, and a well-defined, dark pink mouth, though perhaps a tad too large for some. Jay found her lovely and knew deep down that a smile from this woman must be as delightful as savoring a spoonful of honey.

But what did her voice sound like? So far, she had yet to utter a word.

“I must have startled you a bit. That’ll teach me to stand under a pot of paint.”

She was still staring at him with her cinnamon eyes, her lips never parting.

A bit perplexed, Jay looked up at the wall she had been painting moments earlier and discovered the silhouettes of miniature cherubs, birds, and that of a young woman with long blonde hair, in a medieval pink dress, which reminded him of the tale of Rapunzel. So it was the folds of the dress she had been drawing with the tip of her brush.

“Did you make all these paintings?”

Finally, the stranger nodded slightly, without speaking, though. It was strange. Why was she keeping silent like this? Was she sorry or scared to the point of being unable to utter a single word? No, that was absurd. Fear would have already pushed her to take her legs and run to the back of the shop. There was another reason.

With the feeling of being a bit out of context, especially because of the pink paint that still stained his clothes and which he could feel on his face and head, Jay encouraged her in a reassuring tone, the same one he used to assure hostages of his honorable intentions:

“You can talk to me, you know. I don’t bite.”

“My niece can’t respond to you, sir. She hasn’t spoken in a long time.”

A man’s voice suddenly rose from the counter, capturing their attention. In unison, Jay and the stranger turned their heads toward a man in his fifties with a brown beard, a strong and kind face, crowned with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans under a black apron, while a pot of red dahlias rested between his large lumberjack hands.

So that was it; she was mute.

Instinctively, Jay felt his heart tighten and was overwhelmed by a new wave of tenderness, a bit brutal and inexplicable.

“I see.”

He found nothing else to say, as if his tongue had sealed itself at this revelation. Yet something inside him burned to come out.

“Autumn can be a bit clumsy at times; I’m sorry about her,” the man added, scrutinizing his new customer’s head. “Would you like to go to the restroom to clean your face better?”

Autumn.

Jay repeated that name several times in his mind, like a prayer meant to reveal a secret. He turned his attention back to the young woman, who had not moved an inch, and rediscovered the glowing sparks in her thick hair. He could not have imagined another name for this lovely creature, mute, with a vulnerable air, but whose warm gaze revealed a rather fiery temperament.

“Sir?” the man insisted.

Jay forced himself to be more responsive and mentally slapped himself. It was certainly the long flight and the time difference that made him a bit slow, heightening his sensitivity.

“Yes? Oh, yes… I’d love to use the restroom,” he replied politely with a confident smile.

“Follow me,” his interlocutor invited as he headed toward the door leading to the back of the shop.

In a gentle caress and a whisper, Jay commanded Lafayette to stay quietly seated beside Autumn, then detached himself from his position with a glance toward the young woman. Still burdened by his backpack, he circled the counter and followed the man to the back of the shop, cluttered with boxes but rather orderly. Soon, he reached a door behind which the restrooms were located.

“You look like you’ve just come back from a long trip. I’ve never seen you around here,” the bearded man observed as Jay turned on the light and positioned himself in front of the sink.

The lieutenant noticed the dark circles under his blue eyes, then the traces of pink paint on his face, ears, black hair, and sweatshirt. It looked like he had just come from a wild party.

“Ransom? Are you military?”

The man had just read his name engraved on his camouflage backpack and looked at him with more warmth in his eyes.

“Yes,” Jay replied as he turned on the taps, beginning to wash his face with warm water and lavender soap.

The florist watched him splash water on his head, and when he finished rinsing, he handed him several paper towels before continuing his questioning:

“I know a Ransom. Robert Ransom. Are you related to him?”

Jay accepted the towels, thanking him, and while drying himself, he replied with a slight smirk:

“He’s my father.”

“I had a hunch the moment I saw you. You look a lot like him.”

“That’s what people say.”

“Your father is a great guy.”

Jay tossed the towels into the provided trash can and turned his gaze back to the florist’s face. He looked cleaner, though he could use a good shower and a trip to the dry cleaner to erase the last remnants of the incident.

“He’s certainly a character.”

“Autumn and I are going to take care of the flowers for his wedding with Veronica.”

“I’m not surprised; you have beautiful arrangements. By the way, I’m looking for a bouquet for my mother-in-law. You know, I’m meeting her for the first time tonight.”

The florist gave him a knowing smile.

“Autumn will make you the perfect bouquet. By the way, my name is Gary.”

“Nice to meet you. Jay.”

The two men retraced their steps down the aisle to the front of the shop, where Autumn was now crouched beside Lafayette, her hand gliding affectionately over the charcoal-fawn fur of the dog. He was reveling in her caresses and had crossed the line of proper decorum by leaning against her, trusting and cuddly. The beast and the young woman had bonded in less time than it took Jay to make his bed, seeming to communicate in serene and impenetrable silence.

The lieutenant watched them, a bit fascinated by this ordinary image – not so ordinary, since it was not common to see his injured dog in the company of such a radiant and mute young woman.

“It looks like your companion just returned from war,” Gary observed, glancing at Lafayette. “Has it been long?”

“Six months. It was in Iraq.”

“Iraq? Are you coming from there?”

“No, we’re coming from our base in Germany.”

“That’s right; the Marines have their quarters there.”

“I’m a Green Beret,” Jay corrected him with an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, right! What an idiot, I always mix them up!”

Gary then turned his attention back to his niece and said:

“Autumn, I’d like you to meet Jay, the son of Robert Ransom. You remember, he talked about him the last time?”

The concerned party nodded her head in affirmation and did not seem as surprised as Jay would have thought. After all, if her father had already mentioned him in their presence, he must have also shown them pictures of him. He loved doing that, and this reason would explain the lack of astonishment on the porcelain face.

“Jay would like to offer flowers to Veronica; could you make him a bouquet?” Gary continued.

“I’d like something beautiful but simple,” the lieutenant quickly added.

This time, Autumn fixed her cinnamon gaze on his, and both were a bit electrified. It was strange, these uncontrollable and excited reactions. The young woman decided to set aside her unease, at least to ignore it for a moment, and gently abandoned Lafayette to stand up. She then moved toward several flower pots scattered around the shop, picking different floral species of which Jay knew little. He merely watched her stealthily while her uncle continued to question him about his military life.

Autumn resembled a nymph in this fairy-tale theater of domesticated nature.

“Good choices,” Gary said to his niece when she returned to the counter after several minutes, her hands filled with about twenty flowers. White gardenias, red roses, wild orange lilies, yellow marigolds, and russet maple leaves. There’s enough here to create something very autumnal and beautiful!

Jay was willing to take the florist at his word when he saw Autumn skillfully combining the different varieties of flowers, doing so with a delicacy that allowed him to admire the length of her white fingers, their tips stained with pink. She had long, slender hands, made to slip into the finest velvet gloves and be kissed a thousand times a day.

“Would you like us to put them in one of our lovely, antique, and refined china teapots? That way, Veronica won’t have to search for a vase to put them in… we’ll gift it to you.”

“That’s kind of you.”

Autumn finished her work with skill and speed, much like when Jay assembled his assault rifle. She was a bit too quick for his liking, but the sight was nonetheless delightful to behold.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll ask Autumn to follow you to Robert and Veronica’s house. She still needs to show them several prototypes of decorative bouquets for the wedding. It’s in six days, and the future bride and groom haven’t decided yet.”

“Yes, of course.”

This prospect delighted Jay. Autumn had entered his life less than ten minutes ago, but her aura captivated and comforted him as if they had known each other for years. Even though she did not speak, her warmth alone was enough to put him at ease. It was disconcerting. You might say it was instinct.

Chapter 3

Autumn’s childhood dreams had been nurtured by the tales told by her older sister, Lorelei. In a time so distant yet so close in the younger sister’s mind, they had loved to build a tent in their room with sheets and cushions, illuminating it with a flashlight while reading the oldest and greatest love epics. While Lorelei had always had a soft spot for the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, Autumn once dreamed of Theseus and Ariadne.

The thought of being rescued by a foreign hero, come to deliver her from the clutches of a monster like the Minotaur, often ignited her passionate and intense temperament.

When Autumn turned to meet Jay’s icy blue gaze, the memory of Theseus dominated her mind, leaving her breathless, so much so that she ended up splattering him with pink paint.

“I’ve always loved maple leaves.”

Jay Ransom’s voice, a bit gravelly on certain words as if he had just swallowed a burning liquor, echoed in her ears once more. As a musician, Autumn placed great importance on voices, and his was a blend of velvet and granite. A concentration of contrasts that revealed the complex nature of her interlocutor.

Jay Ransom. She had recognized him as she emerged from her reverie, watching him wipe his face with a handkerchief. He was the spitting image, albeit younger, of her father. A raw beauty with a commanding presence.

Autumn lifted her gaze from the bouquet of flowers she had just placed in a golden-yellow teapot adorned with orange maple leaves. Her eyes fell back into the two bluish steel plates that openly scrutinized her without blinking. She felt like a marble statue under the lens of a slightly mad artist. People trivialized her, viewing her as a statue, a pale, inanimate being rendered transparent by her silence. Mistakenly, they took her silence for a mental deficiency and tended to believe she was simple-minded, as unobtrusive as a piece of furniture or a pet. Thus, tongues would loosen freely in her presence, often forgetting that mutism did not hinder hearing or intelligence.

Autumn’s lips held as many secrets as Pandora’s box, and a sound from her would be akin to an earthquake of revelations and emotions.

But if Jay seemed to be assessing a sculpture when he looked at her, it was not out of morbid curiosity. His gaze was incisive, dazed, and tinged with tenderness, reminiscent of what Michelangelo might have cast upon his Pietà. His blue eyes, of a hue never encountered until that day–Robert having green irises–were akin to the invigorating flames of a gas stove, and their caress made her blood boil like milk over a fire.

“Shall we go?”

Autumn nodded with a smile at the corners of her lips.

Usually, she never followed strangers, and even though she knew Jay’s identity, his good energy would have undoubtedly charmed her otherwise, and he could have dragged her to India without the slightest effort. He emanated a serenity, a quiet strength, akin to the centuries-old maples breathing in the surrounding forests.

Autumn could feel the emotions and waves of those around her with more acuity than before, her lack of verbal expression sharpening her other senses. She was like a dog picking up the scent of its master, but with the moods of people, and the stench of danger. This soldier promised optimal safety.

Jay paid for the personalized bouquet that Autumn had just crafted, then took it into his arms. The young woman donned a lovely red tweed coat, cut like a hooded cape, and carried a wicker basket filled with table bouquets.