by Amelia Grace
*~*~*~*~*
I welcomed the new morning with a groan. Who knew we had so many muscles that could hurt. But I attacked the landscaping with gusto … sort of.
After a couple of hours I stood and reached my hands toward the sky to stretch my back to stop the muscle spasms. I wiped the perspiration from my eyes and stilled.
There was a presence behind me.
I turned around and there he stood with a grin on his face. Nic.
‘Are you stalking me?’ I asked, and raised an eyebrow at him. My orange rose heart of fascination was back.
He looked down and smiled to himself. ‘No, I wanted to give you this.’ He handed me a packet of seeds—forget-me-not flowers.
‘Are you trying to tell me something, Mr. Walker?’ I asked.
‘Maybe—maybe not,’ he replied and raised his left brow at me.
‘Thank-you. They will be beautiful—if I don’t kill them!’ I tilted my head and smiled at him.
He looked around at the front garden and then back to me.
‘How are your muscles, Cate, and did the hot bath help?’ he asked taking the mattock from me. His eyes settled on the blisters on my hands and his face fell with what? Disappointment? Anger? He pressed his lips together before he looked back into my eyes.
‘The hot bath was heavenly, thank-you, and yes, my blisters are painful—but it helps in a strange, odd sort of way,’ I said.
Nic rested the mattock against his leg and pulled his shirt off, revealing his muscular form of defined muscles. ‘Give your hands a rest while I do some digging for you.’
I grabbed the mattock from him. ‘You don’t have to do that. I am tougher than you think, and ... you must have better things to do wi—’
He stepped toward me and grabbed my hands in his. He held my weeping blistered hands in front of my eyes and squeezed them slightly.
I winced in pain and my eyes burned.
‘You don’t have to be tough, Cate. It is okay to let other people help you, and … I don’t take no for an answer.’
He reclaimed the mattock and walked away from me and started slamming it into the ground. I watched him for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. So I sat on the ground with my knees bent and my painful hands over my head. My heart became a deep pink flower from the Judas Tree, shamefully blossoming with betrayal of Ben.
But women could have men purely as friends, right?
And that’s what Nic and I were, right?
I looked up at him. He had made progress in the garden already. I stood and grabbed the second mattock and started at the other end of the garden, stopping as my back ached and my hands throbbed.
I turned to look at Nic. He was a trojan, a blessing I did not deserve. I disappeared into the house and returned with a tray of icy cold drinks. ‘Nic,’ I called.
He turned and looked at me, then put the mattock onto the ground, wiped his hands onto the sides of his shorts and made his way to me. ‘Thanks.’
I nodded to him and watched him chug down the drink. ‘You know—you don’t have to help me with the landscaping.’
‘I know … but I want to. It is my good deed to add to my book of goodness.’ His face was deadpan, but then he broke into the most glorious smile.
I giggled and hit him in the stomach in a playful way.
He bent over and feigned pain from my hit.
‘Don’t you have work to do?’
He stood up tall and saluted before he returned to start digging into the earth again. He cut a beautiful shape with his physique.
I smiled to myself, shook my head and continued on the dig as well, working hard to change my orange rose heart of fascination into a yellow rose heart of friendship with a fruity lemon fragrance to infuse with my life force.
Within three hours the front garden pre-preparation was completed. Nic turned to me. ‘Have you got some good soil mixed with organic matter?’
‘Yes.’ And with that answer the truck arrived and dumped its contents onto the driveway. I raced Nic to get the wheelbarrow, grabbing his arm and pulling him back so I could get ahead of him.
‘Oooh—a competitive girl—who cheats as well!’ Nic said as he caught up with me.
‘What—you can’t take it, boy?’ I asked.
‘I never said that … I am still trying to work you out, girl,’ he answered, furrowing his eyebrows.
‘Good luck with that, Mr. Walker!’ I said, and pushed the wheelbarrow to the pile of organic soil and started shoveling.
I tipped the load of soil into the garden bed just as a gust of wind barreled through. It picked up some dust and blew it into my left eye. ‘Damn!’ I said as I bent with my hand over my eye, pain shooting through it.
Nic was behind me before I knew it. ‘Turn around,’ he said.
I stood and turned to face him. He put his finger under my chin and tilted my head up towards his. I took a slow breath. His close proximity sent a warmth throughout me. The orange rose flower bud in my heart blossomed, sending out a burst of spicy fragrance into my being, and I tried in vain to change it to a yellow rose of friendship, again.
‘Open your eye.’ His voice was tender.
I breathed in deeply and opened my eye as best as I could. The grittiness was uncomfortable and tears streamed down my face.
‘Look at me,’ Nic said.
I looked into his dark blue eyes. His pupils were large. He examined my affected eye then gazed at my lips and back to my eyes again. ‘Go and wash your eye under some water, it will help.’ He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear leaving a warmth along my skin.
I closed my painful eye again, wiped away the tears that tried to flush the dust from my eye, and headed indoors to the bathroom.
When I returned Nic had added a couple more barrow loads of soil to the garden. He turned to me when I walked down the stairs.
‘Better … mostly,’ I answered his unasked question.
He gave me a lopsided smile and nodded. ‘I think we’re finished for today,’ Nic suggested, and put his shirt on.
‘Noooo! We still have daylight hours left!’ I demanded.
He walked up to me, placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. ‘You have worked harder than some men I know. If you were mine, I would be throwing you into a bubble bath to soothe your muscles.’ He dropped his hands from my shoulders and looked away from me and frowned.
If I were his. I caught my breath. I am not his, and he and I are not we.
‘Please, wait for me tomorrow and we will keep working on the garden,’ he said.
I didn’t want to have to wait for him. I could do this all by myself. I didn’t even ask him to come and help me. He just turned up, with forget-me-not flower seeds. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do. My orange rose heart said yes, but my mind said no...
‘Okay,’ I said, my orange rose heart standing tall, infusing my life force with spurts of the notes of pear, grape and citrus. I gave him a shove, fuelled somewhat by my dislike of the feelings I seemed to have no control over. ‘See you tomorrow as the sun rises above the horizon!’
He frowned and shook his head at me. ‘See … confusing!’
‘That’s the way I like it, Nic. Now, off you go and have your bubble bath to soak those aching muscles!’
‘Aye-aye, captain!’ he replied before he turned and left.
I walked around the front garden and collected the tools and put them away before I entered Gran’s house in a downtrodden mood. I stopped before the drawing room and felt its pull—inhaling, inviting, strong, commanding. I grabbed the door knob and squeezed it, then released my grip.
Stupid, infuriating drawing room!