Kara watched fondly as her husband left the shop. Then she turned to a slight Hispanic woman who was helping her three children set armfuls of pansies and marigolds on the counter.
"What are you going to do with all of these beauties?" Kara asked the kids as she rang up the pansies.
The youngest, maybe three years old, responded first. "We're planting a flower bread!"
"Bed," the oldest, a girl of perhaps nine, corrected her. "We're planting them by our apartment."
"That sounds like fun," Kara encouraged.
"This one's mine," said the three-year-old, pointing a finger at a blue pansy.
"And the orange ones are mine," chimed in the boy, probably five. He pointed to the half-dozen marigolds.
"All of them?" Kara asked.
"Yep!" he answered with enthusiasm.
"You have an eager group of gardeners," Kara commended the mother.
She wrinkled her nose. "They're replacing the flowers they trampled yesterday." She looked as though they had discussed this situation at some length. "And from now on, chasing each other is not allowed in the front. Only out back."
The older two children had the dignity to look ashamed, but the younger merely watched with interest as Kara rang up the total. The older girl offered Kara some cash; apparently the children were paying for their misdeeds, literally. Handing back the change, Kara admonished, "No more stepping on the flowers, now. Take good care of these little guys"—she handed the plants back to the kids in turn—"and they'll bloom all summer."
Kara gazed after them as the mother herded her group outside. It didn't ache to be around children anymore, not like it had for a few years. It was pleasant now.
Even so, there was something distantly sad there—a regret, perhaps. It would have been nice to have given Craig a child or two. And of course, there was Tiffany—Tiffy, Craig had called her. What a shame. Craig would have been an excellent father, stern but fair. And after being reluctant at first, he had grown so eager.
But a different path had been ordained for them, and it was okay. Not her first choice, nor entirely devoid of sadness, but okay. As the mother with her three children disappeared from view, Kara sighed and returned to her work.
*****
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 5