The Art of Arranging Flowers (19 page)

T
WO
weddings, homecoming at the Baptist church, a graduation party, and now, Bernie Wilson just called and asked for a large arrangement to take to Cheney for his mother's birthday on Friday. It is a busy week.

Nora is billing the accounts, organizing the vases, cutting the ribbon, and trimming the foam. Jimmy got his license back earlier than expected, provisional only for daytime hours, but he is now available to pick up a few necessary supplies as well as make a few runs, and Cooper, who has already made one extra delivery for me, is planning to stop back by on his way from Metaline Falls and let me have any flowers he has left over. Even Will is sweeping the shop and changing the water in the buckets, bringing up boxes of vases from the basement. Everybody is pitching in.

My ankle is much better, although it swells after a day of standing and it still aches a little at night. It's been more than two months since the fall, but the doctor tells me it might be four to six months before I'm able to run on it. I'm not sure which patient he has me mixed up with, but I never asked about running; I only need to be able to lean against a table and arrange flowers. Walking is good; Clementine is glad to have me back in shape for that, but I don't even think she would be interested in taking up jogging at our ages.

“What are these for?” Will asks as he reaches up and puts the small cardboard box on the counter. There isn't any room on the design table. He takes out a bag of satin rose petals.

“The flower girl,” Nora answers. “We just need one of those; you didn't have to bring the whole box.”

“Oh.” He stares at it. “I'll take it back.” He glances down at the plastic bag in his hand. “What's a flower girl do?”

“She sprinkles rose petals on the floor before the bride comes out.” Nora takes the bag from the boy.

He nods like he understands and then turns to me. “Why?”

I am working on the Saturday wedding. It's a small affair: daffodils, freesia, and golden alstroemeria. It turns out that Lou Ann Peterson was as eager to marry Henry as he was eager to marry her. It seems she was carrying her own torch for her most loyal library client, the one who read every book she gave him, thanking her every time. She knew the flowers were from him as soon as she got the first bunch. She had been waiting for him to get the nerve to speak to her, and when he finally asked her out, finally admitted that he had been her secret admirer, she confessed her love for him and they were engaged by the end of the date.

They're getting married behind his barbershop, a spot of yard hidden behind a tall wooden fence that I've never seen until he took me there last week. I had always wondered what Henry was doing back there, but now I know. He's been landscaping the little piece of property as if he has been planning his wedding venue for years. He has created a beautiful greensward with highbush cranberry, swamp rose, and red-osier dogwoods. There are tall, brightly colored hollyhocks all along the fence, goat's beard, lady fern, and small fruited bulrush in small clumps all throughout the garden. And in the northwest corner of the yard, along the rear fence, is his prize.

Henry has created a lovely pond filled with brightly colored koi. A waterfall, large slate rocks, elephant's ear, and lotus plants surround it. I was as surprised by his backyard as I was by the announcement of the marriage. It will be a beautiful place for the wedding. And with the reception planned to be held at the library, it is a perfect combination for the bride and groom, and I am making baskets and bouquets of yellow flowers for both events. “Just like sunshine,” Henry had remarked when he saw my first arrangement and what he said he wanted when we discussed the floral arrangements for the backyard and the reception. “I-I want y-y-yellow f-flowers everywhere!”

“The flower girl is supposed to mark the path for the bride to find the groom,” I tell Will, answering his question. “She sprinkles flower petals from where the bride stands all the way to where her beloved is waiting. It's a very important responsibility.” I smile at Will, who rolls his eyes. Already at ten, he's convinced romance is gross.

“I never heard that,” Nora responds. She takes down the box and hands it to Will. “I just thought it was a way of decorating a church aisle.” She turns back and starts adding costs to a receipt. “Well that, and finding something for the bride's five-year-old niece to do.”

“Did you get married in a church?” I ask Nora. I know she was married once when she was younger. I think she got divorced soon after the wedding. She has mentioned that it was the shortest marriage on record in Stevens County.

“St. John's Cathedral on a Saturday in June, five o'clock in the evening. The bridesmaids wore pink satin tea-length dresses and I had a designer gown flown in from Paris. We had a five-course dinner at the Beaumont Club on the river with a four-piece string ensemble as entertainment. There were pink and white roses in every bouquet, in each windowsill arranged beside white candles, and draped across the altar.” She blows out a breath. “It was a very elaborate event.”

I am surprised. I had no idea Nora would have had such a big wedding. She turns to see me staring at her.

“What?” she asks.

I shrug and get back to the yellow bouquets I am making for Henry and Lou Ann. “I just hadn't expected all that,” I answer.

“My father was one of the richest men in Spokane,” she explains. “My mother needed my wedding to prove she was worthy of being his wife. I would have been happy just to go to the courthouse, but that was not to be.” She opens the register and places the slip of paper underneath the cash drawer. “And in three days, before we even returned from our honeymoon, it was clear that a lot more time and energy had been spent on the wedding than on the relationship. We filed for divorce when we got home and my mother didn't speak to me again. She died a couple of years later from a botched plastic surgery and I became a drunk.”

I glance down at Will, who is still standing there, holding the cardboard box Nora had placed in his arms a few minutes ago. He is watching her, his big brown eyes filled with a sorrow too old for a little boy.

Nora sees him, too, and she reaches down and squeezes him on the shoulder. “It was a nice wedding, though,” she says, as a way to lighten the mood, I suppose. “And I had two flower girls throwing petals down the aisle.” She slides a piece of his hair out of his eyes. “I walked all the way from the front of that church to that altar with my father escorting me, feeling like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. Even if I didn't stay married, that feeling was worth every nickel my mother spent.” She winks at Will. “Plus, I got some great presents, and I kept every one of them.”

Will smiles. He and Nora have gotten close since they have been working together. “I like presents,” he says, “but I don't think I'll ever get married.”

Nora thumps him on the head lightly. “You'll get married,” she announces. “And you'll wear a new suit with a white orchid on your lapel and there will be rose petals all around you and there will be corny music playing and everybody will be watching and you'll think your bride is the prettiest girl you've ever seen when she is walking toward you down that aisle. And you'll be nervous and your hands will sweat and your stomach will do flips, but when she gets beside you and when you turn and face the minister to say your vows and hear that you're married, joined to this one you love forever, you'll think to yourself,
This is the best day of my life
.”

Will studies the older woman for only a second. “Yuck,” he says, and heads out of the room with the box.

I laugh and finish up the bouquets.

W
E
did good today,” I tell Clem as I unlock the door and walk into my house. I got all the arrangements finished for Saturday's and Sunday's weddings, got Bernie's mother's bouquet put together, and got a good start on pieces for the church homecoming and graduation party. I should get everything completed and ready to go by the end of the day tomorrow. Saturday I will close the shop to go to Henry and Lou Ann's wedding and then I'll have to get things ready for the next blissful event scheduled for Sunday at six o'clock at St. Bede's.

Jenny pushed ahead her wedding when she got the report from her doctor that the cancer was gone. She had met with the healer six times, and after the sixth session she scheduled a body scan at the hospital. She was sure she was free of disease and decided that when her prognosis was confirmed, she was getting married. She saw no reason to wait until the fall. She claimed that she and Justin were in love and she didn't want to waste another second putting her life on hold while she fought cancer. The scan was clear and she called me on her way back from Spokane. She waited until she knew for sure that the priest and I were free before she phoned her mother, telling her that everything was planned and all she needed to do was get an airplane ticket and come for the event. It appears as if the ten-year-old girl who stood up to bullies is now standing up to cancer and her mother. And I don't know which is scarier.

The flowers are the same, pink gerberas, everything I have in stock plus whatever Cooper had in his truck and whatever I could get from the other florists: standards and minis, Bella Vistas, flamingoes, loveliness. Every blush daisy in northeastern Washington will be on display at this wedding. And once I told the story to Cooper and the other florists, it turns out that Jenny and Justin don't have to pay a dime for any of the flowers. All the daisies are free.

I feed Clementine, get myself a glass of wine, and sit down on the sofa, propping my foot in front of me on the coffee table. I'm tired and I realize I haven't sat down all day. I didn't even eat lunch. I worked ten hours straight, pulling yellow stems for Saturday and pink ones for Sunday, mixing lavender and red roses for Bernie's mother and organizing what I could for the party and the homecoming. I close my eyes and see only flashes of color.

Still, I feel good about the work I accomplished today. I feel good that my foot is well enough that I can do what I enjoy doing. In spite of how exhausted I am, I know it was a productive day and I am very happy about these two weddings.

I think about Henry, how he ran across the street to take me to his backyard as soon as he knew I was out of the hospital and back at work. I remember how proud he was that the wedding would take place behind his shop, how he pushed me around in my wheelchair, showing me all the different elements of his yard and gardens. I remember the soft way he spoke of Lou Ann, the tender way he opened the small box to show me the wedding rings.

“I-it's m-m-my mother's,” he said, showing me the diamond that he had not yet given to his fiancée. He had it in his pocket and he pulled it out when he proposed, but he asked for it back because he wanted to get it sized to fit her and because he wanted to add something to the setting, hoping to make it even more special for his bride.

It was made of white gold and the stone in the center was a simple princess-cut diamond, but he had the jeweler place small diamonds on both sides, creating something unique.

“What is that shape?” I asked him, noticing that the side stones were fashioned in some artistic creation that I couldn't make out.

“B-b-bees,” he answered.

I looked up. I did not understand the symbolism.

“F-f-for royalty,” he explained, his cheeks turning red.

I had been moved by the romance in Henry's gift, told him it was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen, and as I think about Lou Ann's engagement gift I think of Jenny's too.

Justin had confessed to me weeks after Jenny announced the wedding that he didn't have enough money for the ring he wanted to buy her. With all the lost wages, all the money spent on gas and hotel bills to take her and stay with her at the hospital, they had ended up pawning the ring he had originally bought. He had been planning to buy a new one once he got back on his feet and could afford one. She had surprised him more than anyone else when she decided upon a new wedding date, and he had almost said no because he knew he didn't have money to buy a ring. Later, he happened to mention his concern to Dan during the final session Jenny had with the healer when they were waiting together.

Dan went home that afternoon, sorted through his jewelry, and found a tie clip he had been given by NASA, a gold bar with four small diamonds, marking the four missions he took to the moon. He took it as well as his own wedding band to the same jeweler Henry had seen and had him make an engagement ring for Jenny as well as wedding bands for the young couple. He presented them to Justin earlier this week, and he told me later, his eyes a little misty, how the boy had sobbed and hugged him so tightly he thought he had cracked a rib.

Just like the rings, I understand that both of these weddings are pretty special events.

I reach up and rub my foot. Clementine has finished her supper and joined me on the sofa. I take a sip of my wine and fall back.

You should invite that animal doctor to come with you to the weddings.
I suddenly hear the suggestion ringing in my ear.

Carl had stopped by the shop to pick up a few green plants for a tennis tournament party at the club. He was borrowing a couple of ferns, a ficus, and a begonia rex. “He's quite the dreamboat.”

I had felt Nora's eyes burning a hole in my back, and when I turned around she just raised her eyebrows and shrugged. It was her classic
I told you so
look.

Carl had gone on to explain that John had stopped by the club to ask about membership, that he had played golf in college and thought he might like to get back to the sport. He had asked only about the rate for a single member.

“He mentioned Henry's wedding,” Carl said as he loaded the last plant in his car. “I think you should call and ask him to go with you. He's still new here,” he went on to say. “You'd just be doing him a favor, just helping him get to know folks.”

At the time I had waved away the suggestion. I had so much to do I didn't have time to think about taking a date to the wedding. I still had mums to arrange and daisies to trim; I figured I would be lucky just to make it to the wedding on time, do what I could with the last of my bouquets, and then slip on a dress and head across the street for the ceremony. I certainly wouldn't be able to arrange meeting a date and driving together.

“No, it is still a silly notion,” I tell myself now.

But then I realize that I'm almost finished with all my tasks, that I would have time to come home, get ready, and ride with someone else. I would have time for Henry's wedding to be a date.

And why not?
I ask myself. Why don't I ask Dr. John Cash to join me? What have I got to lose? Jenny beat cancer by standing up to it. Henry risked everything to tell the woman he loved that he loved her. Dan says not allowing himself to fall in love again is his greatest regret, and Nora tells me at least once a week that I have been alone too long. So why not? Why don't I just pick up that phone and call him? It's just like Carl said. I'm simply a longtime Creekside resident who would be happy to introduce a newcomer around to others, help him get settled. It's not a date as much as it is just going to an event together.

“I'm going to do it,” I say to Clementine, who looks up and doesn't appear at all convinced that I'm about to make the call.

“I will too,” I say. And I slide off the sofa and walk over and get my phone. I punch in the number in my contact list, the number he gave me after Clementine got hurt so that I could check on my dog while I was in the hospital.

I wait while the phone rings, proud of my confidence, my lack of fear, my steady hand. And then I hear the voice and all of that resolve and courage is instantly gone.

“Hello,” I hear, and I do not at all recognize the woman's voice on the other end.

I hang up immediately.