Dane's Storm(4)

My mind wandered even more, my hand seeming to move of its own accord, the way it did sometimes when creativity blossomed inside me.

“What’s that one?” Felicity asked, pointing to a flower I’d just drawn.

I blinked at it, surprised I’d included it. Maybe it was because my mind had drifted, maybe it was because the emotion—one I still wasn’t sure I could name—of Victor’s photo simmered inside me, maybe it was because I’d spoken of true love. “That’s a hellebore, sometimes called a winter rose.” I paused. “There’s a local legend about this flower. Would you like to hear it?”

Both women nodded in unison, their eyes following my pen as I added greenery, kale, and air plants to make the bouquet rich and lustrous.

“An old Indian legend tells of a chief who fell desperately in love with a beautiful woman named Aiyana who was said to live her life in such a way that each day, she inhaled the sunrise and exhaled the sunset. She was not of his tribe, but her spirit called to him so he made her his bride. They lived in happiness and harmony for many years when she tragically drowned, leaving the chief’s heart broken and his life empty. A few days after she was buried, the chief was shocked to see small flowers pushing through the winter-hardened earth above her final resting place. Delicate green hellebores who turned their faces to the mountains and the sky, inhaling the sunrise and exhaling the sunset.”

I glanced up at Felicity and Alice, and they looked rapt with attention. “But soon an unexpected snowstorm came and the chief was fearful it would cover those delicate flowers and block out what he believed to be his bride’s view of the sky, her everlasting happiness. So he stood beside where they grew and curled his body over them and provided shelter as the storm raged and he froze in place. The sky god recognized the chief’s great love and sacrifice and turned him into a tree. And now, if you see a tree whose branches cover a patch of hellebores, you know it’s the chief, forever bent in protection over his beloved, together for all time. And the hellebore signifies true, unending love.”

I drew a quick grouping of stems, wrapped in a ribbon, and ended with a flourish as I looked at Felicity, my heart beating heavily in my chest, my throat clogged.

Felicity sighed dreamily and her mother gripped her hand on the table. “David does look at you that way, Felicity. Like you exhale the sunrise itself.”

Felicity’s eyes widened. “He does?”

Her mother nodded and the two shared a tender look. “Oh yes.” Alice looked back at me. She shook her head and laughed softly. “Well then.” She glanced at my drawing. Even I had to admit it looked lovely, as far as drawings went. “It is . . . beautiful. Unique.” She tilted her head. “And it would certainly make a statement.”

She glanced at Felicity who then grinned at her mother. Alice looked at me once again. “We’ll need matching centerpieces for fifty tables, flowers for the altar . . . oh the works. Send me a quote and my husband will put a deposit in the mail.”

I felt my eyes widen as my heart leapt, though I still felt slightly dazed. “I . . . I’ll get you a quote by tomorrow afternoon. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Wonderful.” They both stood and shook my hand one more time as I gave them a breathless smile. They began to move toward the door when Felicity turned back toward me so suddenly I startled. She pointed at the black ink drawing, still sitting on the tabletop. “Can I have that? The drawing is beautiful. Do you mind?”

I blinked. “Oh, no, of course not.” I ripped the page from the pad and handed it to her. She offered me another smile and then Felicity followed her mother out the door. As it clicked shut behind them, I sank back into the chair.

Jay, who had come out of the back at some point without me even noticing, rushed to my side, pulling up a chair next to me and gripping my shoulders.

“You’re brilliant,” he whisper shouted.

I put my hand to my forehead. “Am I going to be able to pull this off, Jay? Five hundred guests and a magazine spread.”

“Hell to the yes. You got this.” He frowned at me for a moment. “Aren’t you happy?”

I think so. I should be. Only I felt . . . strange. Still off balance. “Yes. Yes, of course. This is huge. I guess I’m just shocked.” I gave him a small laugh.

“Well get un-shocked. You have work to do.” Jay put his hand up and I high-fived him, laughing again and giving my head another shake, trying to break out of this odd feeling of disconnection. Telling that story . . . it was like the weight of those words still sat on my heart.

As if reading my mind, Jay asked, “Where’d you hear that story anyway?”

“Oh, I”—I shook my head—“I can’t really remember.”

He narrowed his eyes, aware of my dishonesty, but didn’t push. “Hmm. All right. Well, I never knew you had such a romantic streak. It’s certainly not from experience.” He raised an eyebrow, alluding to my lack of a love life. “But it worked in case you have more where that came from. I’m going to make another pot of coffee. We have the Spellman wedding to get ready for and the McMaster quote alone could take all day.”

I smiled, gathering my things and taking them to my desk on the other side of the room, next to the window. The door to the shop opened and closed as Jay left to make coffee in the employee kitchen down the hall. For a moment I simply stood by the window, staring at the mountains beyond, thinking of a handsome chief, and the woman he loved enough to stand over her in protection for all eternity. Sadness welled up inside me at the knowledge that a love like that was not my destiny.