In the Weeds (Lovelight, #2)

by B.K. Borison

I crest another small hill and then I see it. Exactly what Beckett intended for me to find. A field of wildflowers, rolling out from the base of the hill in a patchwork quilt of color. Blue and purple and a smattering of rich gold, the sight of it so quietly beautiful that I don’t hesitate to walk right in the middle of it all and lay flat on my back. They must have bloomed to life during the last string of warm days, still standing tall despite the cold. Resilient. Stunning. Flower petals tickle my cheek and I close my eyes with a sigh. A quiet, perfect miracle, hidden behind the hills. SOME HAPPY, Beckett had written. I curl my fingers around the edge of the paper and hold it tightly to my chest.