Loving Levi Greene

Chapter 20: Yellow Hyacinths

****Levi's POV****

I was able to successfully leave my home, undetected, thankful for the meeting my father was involved in.

Though I didn't see or hear John.

This is not particularly strange I guess, he doesn't live in our home, but he is around often.

Especially on the days of my father's meetings. He keeps close in case he needs assistance.

A pet.

I stick a pin in that thought and head down the sidewalk, keeping my head down, my hat tipped, and my pace brisk.

I just need to see her again.

I haven't been able to risk leaving the house in about a week, if it wasn't job related.

My two not-so-fond work companions have been keeping an extra-close eye on me for some reason.

A sense of unease builds as I contemplate the reasons for that.

Every time I've left the house to "check in" on Amelia, I've always made sure to cover my tracks. To make sure I wasn't being followed, and to make sure Amelia or anyone else hadn't seen me.

I am starting to second-guess my stealth.

I forcefully push down those thoughts.

I am already out and headed to the park, it's too late to go back now.

Besides, I have got to see her. Just to make sure she is alive and well. Anything to silence the never ending anxieties of her being in trouble. Vulnerable.

And to make sure she doesn't fuck up again and go into a dark alley all alone.

She is going to be the death of me.

The risk of my father finding out about me watching her does not outweigh my need to protect her.

Even if it is from a distance.

Even if she does not know that I am.

I quickly round a corner and sleuth into the shadows of a red-bricked building near the party.

I glance around the side of the building and I see it.

It is in the middle of a grassy clearing, hardly any trees or bushes to take cover to.

Big white tents offer shade to tables that hold a bounty of colorful baked goods. There are white iron benches strategically placed throughout the grounds. Bustles of women in large, colorfully layered dresses are strolling throughout the maze of numerous flower arrangements.

Some women have male partners, who are dressed in their Sunday best, at their sides. Their dainty arms interlocked with their man of choice as they stroll carelessly about.

I need to get closer.

I scan the party for any type of concealment that might camouflage me.

Nestled in tightly between two of the tents is a large arrangement of colorful flowers. The vase alone has to be made of some type of hard stone that weighs no less than one hundred pounds. Its height looks to reach around my hips, and sprouting out of it are unfathomably long stems with roses and hyacinths bursting on the ends. The whole arrangement must be around five feet wide. Behind it are tall green shrubs. Taller than me.