A Few Flowers

by Gail Sattler

  The stiff muscles he could handle; he knew that would happen. What he had hoped wouldn’t happen hit him with full force Saturday night. He woke up in a sweat after a reoccurring nightmare of the accident, only this time, when he awoke, the pain didn’t disappear. He could barely move his leg without agonizing pain, and when he could grit his teeth and get beyond that, he couldn’t put any weight on it without collapsing. He could barely move all day Sunday, and it wasn’t much better today. Knowing his injury was self-inflicted this time made it that much worse.

  He noticed Cindy avoiding his eyes as she reached inside the bag. When she looked up at him, he felt sick at her stoic expression, trying to appear unaffected at the sight of him. “Aren’t you going to see what I brought?” she asked, too cheerfully.

  He couldn’t appear ungracious, and he was ravenous because he hadn’t eaten since last night, finding it too difficult to stand to make anything and being too depressed to eat. Everything he had in the cupboard that didn’t need preparation had been consumed Sunday down to the last scrape of peanut butter and the last broken cracker.

  Now that he was sitting, he would have starved rather than allow Cindy to watch him struggle to get up. He sucked in his stomach in an attempt to stop the embarrassing growl of his response to the aroma of the food when Cindy sat beside him, holding the bag.

  “You should eat your burger before it gets cold. This stuff is bad enough when it’s warm.”

  He let his voice drop to a low mumble. “Thank you.” Monty lowered his head as he accepted the wrapped burger and fries from her hands, not wanting to make eye contact. He closed his eyes in a short prayer of thanks for the food and ate in silence. Never had a greasy burger and lukewarm soggy fries tasted so good, and he’d never eaten anything so fast in his life, not even during his days of living on the streets.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “I don’t need you to wait on me.”

  “Walking into the kitchen to pour a glass of milk certainly doesn’t constitute waiting on you.”

  He flinched and leaned away as her fingers rested gently on his arm. He didn’t want her sitting next to him. He hadn’t showered or shaved for two days.

  Monty hunched over and buried his face in his hands. “Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me.”

  “It’s okay. . . .”

  He shook his head, not caring that he muffled his voice by speaking into his palms. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t think straight from all the painkillers I’ve taken, yet still I can barely move. I didn’t want you to see me like this. Thank you for the lunch, now please, I want you to leave.”

  Eleven

  “I’ll only leave if there’s someone else I can call to come help you.”

  Monty’s heart physically ached to know that he had lost everything he had tried so hard to maintain after his accident. He had only been fooling himself. He wanted to think that after a little time all could be normal, as it was before. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  All he’d done was walk. They hadn’t climbed anything, they hadn’t exerted themselves in any way, yet the little excursion incapacitated him. He had barely held himself up at the door to talk to Cindy, and his condition had improved ten times over yesterday. Yesterday he couldn’t even hold himself up with the cane. Saturday after their walk, he’d had to support himself against the wall to get to the washroom in the middle of the night, and even then, his leg had given out and he’d collapsed to the floor.

  And it was all because of his own poor judgment. He’d wanted to get away from it all and spend time alone with Cindy, and in doing so he’d ignored everything he’d been told about his limitations. His disability. He had just learned the hard way what was in store for him the rest of his life.

  If he couldn’t take care of himself, he couldn’t ask someone else to.

  For the first time, he thought he’d found someone he could share his life with. Now, all his hopes for a future with Cindy vanished.

  He’d worked so hard to make a good life for himself and he’d done it alone. The only friends he thought he had on the streets weren’t interested in making an honest living. Everyone told him he couldn’t do it, the odds were impossible, and everyone had deserted him.

  When things started going well, only due to his hard work and a number of calculated risks, his former friends suddenly started showing up. When he hadn’t supplied everything to make their lives easy, they’d disappeared again, and he hadn’t missed them.

  His new friends were few and far between. Too often, people wanted to know he was up to their social standing before they would accept him. He didn’t need those kinds of friends, either.

  He maintained a professionally distant relationship with his staff, but he was their boss, not their friend. It could never be any other way. He’d befriended a few people at church but hadn’t had time yet to nurture a real friendship with any of them. He’d grown fond of a few of the kids in the youth group, but he was an adult and they were just kids. They looked up to him as their computer guru, and while he tried to give them whatever spiritual guidance he could, many of the kids in the youth group had been Christians longer than he had. He was the one getting the education.

  He shook his head. “There’s no one.”

  All his life, he’d had to guard himself carefully, both his meager possessions, and most of all, his heart. For the first time in his life, he started to let his guard down and allowed a chosen few people to see a bit of the real Montgomery Smythe. There were still many things he had never told anyone, not even his own pastor. Yet, he shared freely and openly with Cindy. In spite of all he told her, indications were that she liked him despite his idiosyncrasies. But now, when she saw him like this, everything he tried to do was for nothing. He’d tried so hard to show Cindy his strengths and hide his weaknesses, but he’d failed.

  He didn’t want her sympathy; he wanted her to love him the same way he loved her.

  He kept his face covered with his hands. The stubble on his chin scraped and irritated his palms, emphasizing how miserable he knew he looked. After the hike and after a few bad cases of the sweats from the pain, he didn’t want to think of how he smelled. He didn’t want her near him. He wanted her to remember him at his best, cultured and dignified and proud, not the pathetic humanoid he’d become once again.

  When her soft hands closed around his wrists, he flinched. Before he realized what she was going to do, she tugged his hands away from his face.

  “Look at you. I never thought you’d be the type to just sit there and feel sorry for yourself.”

  “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “What are you doing then?”

  “I’m being realistic.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  Rather than pull his hands out of her grip, he jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “I can’t stand long enough without falling to make myself a lousy sandwich. I made one error in judgment. One. And look what happened. Face it, I’m going to spend the rest of my life bound by limitations and leaning on a cane. Unless my arm gives out and I can’t even do that anymore.”

  “Then hire a housekeeper or cook to help you or something.”

  “Never.”

  She shook his hands, but he pulled away from her grip as she started talking again.

  “Why won’t you hire a housekeeper? Are you too full of pride to admit you need the help? If you can’t see past yourself, then consider this. The reason people do housekeeping is because it’s a job to them. Simply said, they do it because they need the money.”

  Monty glared at her without commenting.

  “It’s not a glamorous job like yours, but it’s honest work. And you want to know something? When you need the money, you’ll take any honest work you can get.” Cindy stopped talking for a second and abruptly poked herself in the chest a couple of times with her index finger. “I did housekeeping when time
s were tough because there was nothing else I could do. I considered it a blessing because it wasn’t charity. Many people in my church wanted to just give me money, but instead I worked for it by scrubbing their toilets. And I did it gladly, grateful to have been given the opportunity to earn it.”

  He cringed at the thought of someone else cleaning his home, but to think of Cindy doing the dirty jobs nearly made him ill.

  “And let me tell you this. It was exactly what I needed to get me by at the time.”

  “And you’re trying to tell me that I should do the same for someone else. That it would have nothing to do with the fact that I am helpless and can’t do it myself.”

  Cindy shook her head. “This is temporary, Monty. Think. Not long ago, you nearly died. When you’re back on your feet, you can still use the services of a housekeeper, just to free up more of your time. There’s nothing wrong with that. Give someone else a chance. You can help them, and at the same time, they’d be helping you when you need it, too. Think of what God has given you. A second chance. You’re alive.”

  Monty stared into Cindy’s eyes as he contemplated what she was asking him. During his time in the hospital, he really had been grateful for a second chance. Being so confined, he’d had lots of time to think. He couldn’t do anything else.

  Forced to stop and prioritize his life, he decided what was really important and what he was really aiming for. Before the accident, all he wanted was to be completely self-sufficient, never to be dependent on anyone for anything, ever again. Then, just when he could see it happening, when his goal was within reach, a random accident abruptly halted everything. Because of a special angel sent by God, he was alive, and he still didn’t know why.

  When he woke up after the accident, he talked to God for the first time in his life. He asked God why He would send an angel to someone like him, even after he came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t an angel who saved him, but an anonymous stranger. Because of that stranger, Monty discovered just how much God loved him. He didn’t know what God had planned for his life, but Monty was determined to pay attention to God’s leading. And while he was searching for God’s answers, trying his best to do God’s will, God placed Cindy in his path once again.

  “You may be facing a few setbacks, but you have all your mental faculties. So what if you have to use a cane to walk? What difference does that really make in anything that’s important? Because of God’s grace, you’re alive. All else is a bonus.”

  He stared into her eyes, her lovely gray eyes. He couldn’t do anything else.

  “Well?”

  He’d never been so humbled in his life. She was right. He was feeling sorry for himself, and in doing so, he discounted all that God had done for him, including placing Cindy in his path once again.

  His voice came out in a croak. “Cindy. . . .”

  Before she could say a word, he threw his arms around her. Despite the throbbing pain in his leg as he shifted or the way every muscle in his body ached with every movement, he held her tight against him, burying his face in her hair so he wouldn’t scratch her tender cheek with his rough chin. Today, she felt sorry for him, but he would pick himself up, shake the dust off his feet, and use the strength God had given him to overcome the obstacles in his path. He’d done it before; he would do it again. He would show Cindy the real Montgomery Smythe. This moment sealed in his heart the knowledge that he’d found his soul mate, that one special person he could love the way God designed.

  Slowly, he could feel her arms inch around him as she returned his embrace. “Cindy, ” he mumbled into her hair. “My special angel.”

  For a second she stiffened. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” he mumbled, shaking his head. In moving, the softness of her fragrant hair brushed against his face. She smelled like flowers. Tomorrow, he would send extra special flowers. Roses. For love. “Never mind.”

  Cindy stiffened in his arms, then squirmed. “Excuse me, I have to use your washroom.” She glanced from side to side, then down the hall.

  Monty released her and pointed. “Second door on the left.” He watched her shuffle away, missing her warmth the second they separated. He’d lost his heart to a wonderful Christian woman. He prayed that one day soon, Cindy would be his lifelong partner.

  Monty smiled as he heard the washroom door click closed. He wasn’t going to say anything yet, not looking and feeling like this. When he could present himself properly, he would show Cindy what she meant to him. With class and dignity. And God’s continued blessing.

  ❧

  Cindy sagged against the washroom door the second she closed it behind her. He’d called her an angel. His special angel.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, she had a zit on her chin, and a small scar beside her left eye from when she fell out of a tree trying to escape out her bedroom window as a teen. She was no angel. Cindy squeezed her eyes shut.

  Snippets of conversation started falling into place. Last weekend they’d talked for hours about many things, including angels. He had briefly mentioned that at the exact moment he thought he was going to die, he heard an angel’s voice and felt an angel’s touch. Before she had time to think about the ramifications of that statement, he had changed to another fascinating topic, and she hadn’t thought about it anymore. Now his words flashed before her like a neon sign.

  She remembered praying for him just as he passed out at the accident scene. And during the process of her first aid, her constant checks to see if he was still breathing and that his heartbeat remained strong, her hands had been all over him. Was it her prayer that he thought was the voice of this angel? She felt sick at the thought that he could be basing his Christianity on what he thought was a vision when all it was, was her.

  She’d always wondered what it would be like to lead someone to make a decision to follow Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. But not by being a supernatural being. “Nooo. . . ,” she groaned aloud, letting her voice trail off, burying her face in her hands.

  Cindy lowered her hands slowly, dragging them down her face until she stared at herself in the mirror once again. Whatever Monty thought about angels, she could never live up to such expectations.

  Her mind went blank. Instead of concentrating on the problem at hand, she checked out the layout and decor of Monty’s washroom, which was as big as her bedroom. Not only did he have a huge whirlpool tub in the corner, but also, partly recessed in the wall in the opposite corner was an octagon etched-glass shower stall. A pair of the biggest, fluffiest towels she had ever seen hung on the wall. Like the living room, the colors were rich and deep and just the right blends for a perfect match.

  She studied the vanity, a huge solid marble unit with double sinks. Like his office, his home—at least what she’d seen of it so far—was as neat as a pin and meticulously organized. Nothing on the vanity sat out of place. A blow dryer hung neatly on the wall and the soap dish and a toothbrush holder were lined in perfect order. The only thing that didn’t quite belong was a familiar-looking spray decanter.

  Cindy picked up the bottle. It was her favorite perfume. First she confirmed that there was only one toothbrush in the holder. Then, she tilted the bottle slightly to confirm that it was nearly full. She didn’t know who it could belong to other than another woman with whom Monty would have dissolved a relationship so he could pursue her, the angel in his vision, a role she could never and would never aspire to.

  Cindy forced herself to breathe. Aside from his angel delusion, he was a wonderful man, one she deeply wished she could have met another way. Knowing what she knew now, this time would definitely have to be the last time she saw him.

  Cindy squeezed her eyes shut as she felt her heart break in two. Their relationship, based on the circumstances of their initial contact, had been doomed from the start. Lately, because of her own selfish desires, she’d fooled herself into believing otherwise.

  She left the large washroom and walked into the
living room, where she picked up the contract and sat beside him. “If I hurry, I can be on time for the meeting.”

  She could feel Monty staring at her as she carefully pulled the papers out of the envelope and picked through them. “Nothing has changed except the last couple of pages. Do you want to go through the whole thing or just the amendments?”

  “The amendments would be fine. I trust you.”

  In seconds flat, she whipped a pen out of her purse and laid it, along with the new pages, on the coffee table in front of him. “I’m sure you know where to sign. I’ll witness it for you.”

  As soon as he dutifully signed everything, Cindy stood. She plucked the pen and paper from his fingers, stuffed everything back into the envelope, and turned to the door.

  “Don’t get up. I’ll lock the door on my way out.” One last time, she had to touch him as her way of letting him know, in the only way she could, what he meant to her. Very gently, she ran her fingertips along the smooth part of his cheek. Her voice came out in a choked rasp. “Take care of yourself, Monty.”

  Before she changed her mind, she turned around and left.

  ❧

  Monty leaned against the wall beside the entrance to his office and hung his cane over his arm in order to fish his keys out of his pocket. He probably should have given himself at least another day, but three missed days of work and a lost weekend were enough. He hadn’t called Cindy since she’d seen him because he didn’t want to talk to her from his bed while half stoned on painkillers. Today he had cut back, and he was going to phone her from the dignified setting of his office with a clear head.

  Once inside, Monty slowly and awkwardly made his way across the room to his private office and dropped himself into his chair while he waited for the aftereffects of the exertion to pass. Today, the farthest he planned to go from his desk was the washroom. He made a mental note to cut down on his coffee consumption as he turned his computer on and waited for it to boot up.