by Amanda Tru
“No distractions, Wayne. Get her over there and convince her to marry you.”
The concern that had been building from the moment Lena disconnected their call spewed forth before he could stop it. “She’ll feel bad that she messed up my proposal because of that stupid Alejandro. It’ll make everything worse. Why didn’t I let that girl break her neck?”
“Because that’s not the man I raised you to be. Now get well and sweep Lena off her feet, okay?”
It shouldn’t have, but somehow talking it through with his mother had bolstered his spirits. Next, a call from Tabitha Allen asking how to use the credit card machine if it wasn’t connecting sent him into business mode. “I’ll call you later, Mom. This is important. Bye.”
Every order sat in the case ready to go—except the birthdays and the new baby. Lena had at least discovered that it was a boy and had pulled out a red toy car, a blue crackled glass vase, and a baby boy gift bag to hold a small tin pail. Birthday items, she suspected, could be easier.
It was time, however, to call Wayne for help. She couldn’t avoid it or his multiple calls any longer. So, with the large iPad ready to be used as a video camera to the shop, and a prayer asking the Lord to keep her strong in her resolve to end their relationship, she punched the call button. I need this job, God. Please help me.
“There you are! I’ve been worried sick. Look, Lena—”
Lena broke in, all business and ignoring his obvious distress. “I need your help with the arrangements. I have the baby boy one first. Which thing—?”
The pain in his voice as he broke in rattled her resolve, but she stood firm.
“Wayne, please. We’ve worked together for several years now. We can continue to be friendly. But I cannot make the nice arrangements.”
“I didn’t go anywhere inappropriate! I was just shopping for a gift, okay?”
Lena felt herself weaken and tried to shore up her resolve once more. “If the gift wasn’t something—”
“It was for you, you crazy woman! I didn’t want to tell you yet.”
The words pounded and pulsed in her head. “You crazy woman!” The echo followed. “Eres una loca!”
“Lena? Where’d you go?”
“I am here. Tell me what to do, por favor.”
He began to protest further, but Lena cut him off again. “Wayne, I need to do this and deliver before it is too late. What flowers do I use for a boy?”
Daisies. Wayne insisted that white daisies with a few of the leftover sapphire orchids and a couple of yellow lilies would be perfect inside the crackled glass bowl vase. At first, it took all his attention to get every daisy in place, but as she began inserting the blue orchids, her confidence levels rose… and so did his.
“Lena, we need to talk.”
“No, Wayne. We don’t. We’re adults. I can do my job, you can do yours. That’s all we need. Just to do our jobs.”
“But you’re being ridicu—”
“Eh-stop! No more. You don’t talk to me like that. You are my boss. That is all.”
“I was buying—”
Before he could press her further, before she dissolved into a quivering puddle of tears, Lena disconnected and began working on birthday bouquets. They wouldn’t have Wayne’s artistry, but neither would she have his lies filling her ears.
I almost didn’t get out of my marriage alive. Wayne wouldn’t kill me, but I’d still die inside. No. I will not do it. No!
He’d tried for a week to convince Lena that he’d only gone in to a perfectly acceptable store to buy her a present. He’d even shouted what it was as she slammed the door shut one night, but she either didn’t hear or didn’t care. During the second week after their unsettling breakup, they’d settled into a similar routine as before he’d sprained his ankle buying the engagement ring he suspected he’d have to sell at a huge loss.
So, when Jennie Bradford stepped into the shop the first Tuesday of October and tried to describe the unusual gravestone wreath her church ordered every year, and once again, Lena couldn’t understand what the woman wanted, Wayne decided he’d had enough of Lena’s barbs.
“Pastor Allen put you on task this year?”
Lena broke in and assured him she could handle the order.
“And I can tell that you can’t. I’ve got this.”
Normally, Lena’s scowl would have sent him scurrying back to his cave and the homecoming corsages he’d abandoned there. Anger and hurt, however, worked wonders for his resolve. “How many do we have this year?”
“Six. Only two were residents. The rest moved away in the past ten or twenty years, but Pastor Allen insists. If we know, we honor.”
“Do we have a theme this year?”
“They’re all women, so it can be as feminine as we like.”
As they discussed the options, the incessant clicking of Lena’s fingernails of the computer keyboard nearly sent his nerves into overdrive. She paused. “I found the last three. I will finish the order now.”
“Would you like to go get coffee at The Grind and talk about it?” The question hung in the air, startling him as much as the two women. Jennie shot a look at Lena, who pursed her lips. Wayne lifted the apron he wore over his head and draped it over the counter. “You could tell me about your trip this summer. I’ve always wanted to see South America.”
“What part? It’s a big place.” Despite her question, Jennie turned to go with him. “Thanks for your help, Mrs. Rojas.”
For the first time ever, he heard her snap back, “Lena is my name. And what about this order?”
“I’ll write it up tonight. We have a couple of weeks for me to come up with something good.”
The door jingled as he opened it for Jennie. Lena’s voice grated as she called back, “And your corsages? They will wilt.”
“Just put them in the case. I’ll be back soon.”
Of course, the moment the doors swung shut behind him, Wayne’s confidence scattered in the autumn breeze. He shot a glance at Jennie and saw she, too, didn’t seem to know what she should do. “It’s almost lunch…” Another glance. “We could always go to The Diner… beat the rush.”
She’d never agree, of course. But after twenty years of not dating, and then nine months of enjoying the relationship he’d dreamed of as a younger man, Wayne already missed the companionship of a girlfriend. He craved it. That thought prompted him to throw in one more tidbit of inducement.
“I’ll e—”
“Sure. That sounds like a nice idea. Mrs. Ro—, I mean, Lena won’t mind?”
“It’s my shop. If I want to take an early lunch, I can certainly do that.” At least that’s what he hoped he’d said. Still reeling from the unexpected agreement, he couldn’t be sure.
Jennie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and eyed him. “I thought you two were practically married. I don’t want to cause problems…”
“We’re no longer dating.” It sounded cold and uncaring. “She decided she wasn’t ready—that is, there was a misunderstanding—I mean…”
That’s all it took. Jennie smiled up at him and assured him that she understood. “If you buy me lunch, I’ll buy you a scoop of Audrey’s pumpkin chai ice cream.”
A protest bubbled from within him, but one quick glance at her smiling at him befuddled his brain just long enough for him to agree. “But if you buy me ice cream, that makes us even. I’ll have to convince you to let me take you to a movie or something after that.”
Jennie’s laughter caught the attention of passersby—folks who smiled their way as if holding a secret. She ignored them. “So, that’s the secret then? Women do this all wrong. If they want someone to ask them out again, they need to reciprocate. No wonder the guy never calls again. He’s broke.”
That’s got to be a hint. Then the full meaning of that hit him. Maybe Lena was just a novelty—the first woman I’ve noticed since the girls from high school. I should have dated around a bit once I started. A vision of Lena’s eyes accusing him of bein
g just like Alejandro pierced his conscience.
Wayne shoved them back again and boarded up the hole. He just gave Jennie a grin and said, “I’ll remember that. I’ll certainly remember that.”
With each jerk of the second hand, Lena’s blood inched closer to the boiling point. Four orders still spun on Wayne’s ticket wheel. She flicked it again—just to keep them fluttering in the breeze. The shop door jingled. Lena flew from the workroom into the shop and managed to catch herself before she scolded Tom Allen in Wayne’s stead.
“Señor Allen! Have you come for something for your wife?”
The pastor of First Church gave her a weak smile. “Lily’s had her last treatment.”
“Oh! This is good news, isn’t it?”
He shook his head. “No. She stopped mid-treatment and said to let her go home. She’s done fighting.”
An ache gripped the back of Lena’s throat. “Oh, Tom…”
“It’s good. It is. She’s fought for so long, and Tabitha is not a child anymore, but…” The man’s voice cracked, even as he wiped tears from his eyes. “I wanted her to have roses—red. She’s the only girl I ever loved. Can’t let her forget that—especially now.”
Wayne said that, too. And now he’s out with… that woman. Fickle.
“Señora Rojas?”
She snapped back to attention and reached for the order sheet. “Would you like an arrangement or a box?”
“What do you suggest?” Again, Tom’s voice cracked.
“Definitely the box. A vase it shouts, ‘Here! See how much I love you!’ Is good if you send to the work or something like that, but home… For home, a box is best. It’s a tender whisper of the tissue paper as she peels it away. It whispers, ‘I love you’ in soft, intimate tones. This you must do. I will get it for you. Right now.”
By some miraculous intervention from God Himself, Lena made it to the back room and had the curtains closed before the first tear fell. With one hand she gripped the worktable. The other, she clapped over her mouth and willed the sobs to cease. You can have the breakdown later. Now you must be strong and brave—like Señor Tom.
Silent tears poured down her face. Her shoulders shook. Her heart shredded in pieces the best office shredder could only hope to match. Dios mío! I loved him. I still love him, but…
It wouldn’t do. The habits of a lifetime filled her. As a little girl in that small village near Cadiz, she’d learned the prayer at the feet of her beloved priest. Even when she came to America to dance with her troupe—even after she stayed and became a part of Fairbury’s community church, she still prayed those words, now in English. Lord, you are Holy above all others, and all of the strength that I need is in Your hands.
A hand rested on her shoulder. Lena thought it was Tom’s. As she struggled for control, arms came around her shoulders and held her—familiar arms. “Lena, what is it? I didn’t mean—”
No, no, no! She couldn’t hear it now. Not now. Not with Tom outside able to hear every word. She spun, held a finger to her still-trembling lips and hissed, “His wife—Tom’s wife—she is dying. He needs a dozen roses. In a box. I—” Lena tried to say she just couldn’t, but then she saw it. The pulling away. The closing of his heart. The shuttered eyelids with steel reinforcements.
I did that to him. Me.
She fled out the back way.
Standing there, Wayne stared at the door, wondering why he’d thought it so smart to sneak in the back after being gone so long. And now this.
At the last jingle of the bell and the faint click of the latch, Wayne knew he was finally alone. The text message still burned his eyes. Hope your date went well. I’ll be back to work tomorrow. It was just a shock.
Just a shock. She’d melted into him, not just allowed him to comfort her. Wayne knew it deep in his heart, but pride worked double-time to beat it back out again. “Well, if you want a shock, I’ll give you one. Jennie said she had fun today. Jennie would love another date. Jennie didn’t just decide to assume I’d become some kind of creep overnight.”
That’s when an unsettling, discouraging truth sucker-punched him. “I liked being part of a couple. I liked having someone to care about—to do special things for.”
His voice reverberated through the shop until he realized he’d been shouting. Quieter, he continued talking out his frustrations. “I love her—loved. I don’t know. Could I love someone who could think I’d go shopping in some filthy store and try to hide it from her? I could have come up with a dozen lies that would have ensured she never knew… if I’d wanted to.”
With his roller-ball vacuum sucking up crunched leaves that blew in and were trampled into powder by the day’s customers, Wayne rewrote the history of his heart. “Maybe I never loved her. Maybe it was just all about loving who I thought she was…” No, that wouldn’t work. Lena was a good woman, despite how wrong she’d been about him. “But I haven’t had a girlfriend for so long that I mixed up my love of being able to be romantic with someone. It was a nice change from just helping along with someone else’s romance as the flower dude. I mixed that up with actual love. That’s all…”
That narrative worked. As he washed out the flower buckets, scrubbed down the table and hosed off the floor until all the cuttings flowed into the sink-like drain under his work table, Wayne concocted a narrative that showed the Lord using him and Lena to help each other over the difficult hurdle of taking chances on relationships. He learned how to interact personally with a woman, and she gave her heart a chance to see that someone could treat her well.
“Okay, Lord. Yes, she lost her way, but baby steps, right? Someone else can come along and help her trust fully again. I plowed the ground and planted seeds. Someone else can water. It’ll be good for her, but I can move on now.”
That thought brought him back to Jennie. Yes, the woman was younger than him—by nearly a decade. That might be a problem in some peoples’ eyes, but not for Wayne. If it were a problem for her, well, maybe she wouldn’t be the one. She didn’t have to be.
“But if she’s not, I’m going to keep looking until I find her. I’m definitely doing that.”
The trees surrounding Lake Danube signaled their imminent arrival in Fairbury, but for once, Wayne hardly noticed. Instead, he listened to Jennie rhapsodize over the sea of color at the Rockland flower market. “I thought places like that only existed in books or movies.”
“Well, big companies often use the flower auctions and have their product shipped to store, but we’re close enough that I can handpick what I want. Some things I have to order, but…”
“I’ve just never seen so many different flowers—and so many of the flowers—in one place before.”
It was a feeling he’d never forget either. A sidelong glance showed her watching him. “I know what you mean. I always liked flowers, but my testosterone protested. It wasn’t until we visited New York City and went down by 28th and saw the flower market… wow. It’s amazing.” He swallowed hard and tossed her a silent plea to go easy on him. “After that, I was sunk. I needed a life among the flowers.”
“I think it’s stupid the way we act like there’s something unmanly about a guy who appreciates and can create beauty.” She tossed him a grin. “And really, no woman complains when a guy thinks she is beautiful and wants to spend all his time with her! What’s the difference?”
A big one. Wayne ignored that thought and took the opening offered. “I’ll admit that I think you’re beautiful, but I’m not going to touch the ‘want to spend time with you’ because of it. That’s asking for trouble. Besides,” he added before she could protest. “It’s not quite true. I just enjoy our talks.”
The stiffening he’d observed out of the corner of her eye relaxed. “Thanks. I enjoy it, too.”
If you keep this up, I’ll be half in love with you inside a few more dates. A less romanticized portion of his heart scoffed at that, but Wayne eyed the pain-filled alternative it presented and kicked it to the curb. I will. I’ll let mysel
f. Lena doesn’t want me. We were just a stepping stone in each other’s lives. That’s all. In time we’ll be back to harried shop owner and domineering manager. Just the way we were meant to be.
Jennie’s voice broke through his thoughts. “—made it back earlier than I thought. I might even be able to help you carry in a few of the buckets.”
“It’s not necessary, Jen. Really. I am just happy that you could come.”
As they pulled into the alley and up to the back door, Jennie finally responded to that. “I’m glad you talked me into it. I wasn’t going to go—at three in the morning, it didn’t sound fun at all, but…”
He hopped out and opened her door for her—barely in time. Jennie slid down off her seat and stood there just inches away. Wayne would have kissed her had the image of Lena dashing out the back door in a huff not killed all—well, not all but most—desire. Jennie grinned at him, kissed his cheek, and insisted he show her how he organized the buckets of flowers. “Roses are mine!”
Red or pink?
The minute hand clicked one minute closer to the twelve. In three minutes, Lena would have to open the store. With no flowers. None. Not even a single scraggly daisy or wilted carnation.
At closing the previous night, she’d gone through all the buckets and purged them of every bloom and piece of greenery.
All right. I confess. Throwing away the baby’s breath might have been excessive.
She tossed the clock a dirty look as it inched another minute closer to nine o’clock and dashed for the back door. “Wayne, where are you?”
He should have been back two or more hours ago.
“Oooh, that man! Since he takes up with this Jennie Bradford, he has become the irresponsible!” Hearing herself produced an amendment of that statement. “He has become irresponsible. No the.”
A pang struck her heart as she recalled how much Wayne had loved her occasional sentence structure missteps. “I know when you are emotional. You toss in that ‘the’ in random places. It helps me know if I’ve touched or irritated you.”