Falling for You (11 page)

He stood up. “Sorry, girls. I’d love to hear more, but duty calls.” He looked at me. “I hope everything’s okay. Let me know if I can do anything.”

I gave him a little smile, appreciative of his kindness, although it was embarrassing. First I showed him my stupid poem, and then he finds out my boyfriend is acting like a crazy person.

“Let’s get out of here,” I picked up my tea and cookie.

“What? Why? Where are we going?”

I shrugged. “Your place? It’s normal there, isn’t it? I really need some normal about now.”

She stood up. “You gonna call him?”

With a deep sigh I said, “Yes.”

I glanced at Leo as we left, thinking about his offer to help. Just like Ms. Bloodsaw had done a few days ago. Did they do that with everyone? I decided they must. After all, that’s what nice, normal people do.

the hospital—4:15 p.m
.

I’ve heard it said normal is overrated
.

How can anyone say that?

When things are normal, you don’t worry so much
.

You don’t cry so much
.

You don’t make mistakes again and again and again
.

I’ve made so many mistakes, I can’t even count them all
.

“Her mom’s here. Admitting has her. Can we wait?”

Right now, it feels like there isn’t a person in the world who’s made as many mistakes as I have
.

“Yes, let’s wait. Her mom probably wants to see her.”

My mom? Okay, maybe one person
.

I’m not sure I can go back to that place
.

A place where all I do is screw up
.

I always thought that I’d kept a level head
.

That at least I’d stayed normal, despite everything
.

But look at me
.

If that were true, would I even be here?

four months earlier

the season of giving

WINTER BREAK WAS RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER. TEACHERS were piling work on at school, cramming our brains with information, trying to make up for the fact that soon we’d have two weeks with nothing to do but eat frosted reindeer cookies and watch
A Christmas Story
seven or eight times.

After school on Thursday, Nathan walked me to my truck. It was one of those clear December days where the sky is ice blue and the sun is shining, but you can’t even feel it because it’s so dang cold. I had three shirts on plus my coat and I was still freezing.

Nathan took my face in his chilly hands and kissed me softly. “Call me later? After work?”

“Sure,” I said. “But I thought you were going out with your parents tonight. To celebrate?”

“Oh. Right. Well, we should be home by eight. It’s just
dinner. I mean, the guy’s hit the bestseller list before, so it’s not like it’s
that
exciting.”

A cold wind whipped past us. I pulled my coat around me tighter. “I hope everything goes all right. You feeling okay about it?”

“Yeah. Things have been much better lately.”

“Good. I gotta go. Talk to you later, okay?”

As I hopped in the truck, he waved at me, grinning from ear to ear. He’d been a perfect gentleman the past few weeks. After that day in the rain, I’d called him and we’d had a heart-to-heart. I’d told him showing up out of the blue like he’d done wasn’t okay. He said he’d just been so desperate to talk to me. That he needed help figuring out how to confront his dad about the woman he’d seen him with in the parking lot. He said he couldn’t pretend with his parents that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

I’d told him he should tell his dad what he saw, and then wait for his dad’s response. Confrontation was never easy, but sometimes necessary.

After that, we’d talked about us. I made sure he understood how I felt. I told him he couldn’t be so needy with me. The constant calling and texting, the surprise visits—all of it had to stop. He’d promised to back off, and told me how much I meant to him. He’d sounded so sincere, and remorseful. I felt like I had to give him one more chance.

The conversation with his dad wasn’t pretty, but it went
all right, and it accomplished what Nathan had hoped for. His dad promised to stop seeing the woman immediately and he’d begged Nathan for forgiveness. Since then things had apparently been going well, and now they were going out to celebrate his tenth book hitting the
New York Times
bestseller list. As a family. Nathan had been the picture of happiness all day.

I was almost to work when I noticed my fuel light had come on.

“Aw, man,” I exclaimed. It seemed like I’d just filled the thing up a few days ago. There’d been a lot of deliveries lately. Full Bloom had a van, but sometimes I’d use my truck when necessary.

Payday was yesterday. Soon Dean would make me sign over my check and most likely give me forty dollars, just like the past few times. My heart sank at the thought. I needed to ask Nina for some gas money.

I found her and Spencer hunched over the worktable, twisting and folding silver ribbon, making bows.

“Hey,” I said when I entered the back room. “Are those for the wedding on Saturday?”

Spencer looked up. “Hi, Rae! Yes, they are. We are planning to turn that little Methodist church into a winter wonderland for the two lovebirds. It’s going to be fabulous!”

“Are you doing all white flowers?” I hung up my coat.

“White with a touch of blue,” Nina said. “I special ordered
some hydrangeas that’ll be arriving by airmail tomorrow. The bouquets are going to be exquisite! Just wait.”

“Oh, Rae,” Spencer said, “before I forget, there was an envelope outside the door again this morning. You know, with your name on it? I left it by the register.”

My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe there was another one.

Please deliver a nice flower arrangement to this address:

825 Englewood Avenue

The flowers are for Ella. Sign the card “From a Friend.”

I went back to the workroom. “Fifty dollars and a delivery from a
friend
,” I told them.

“You know, I like this floral philanthropist, whoever it is,” Spencer said, standing up and reaching his hands to the sky to stretch. “I love the idea of sneaking around, making the world a better place by sending flowers, and not wanting anything in return.”

“Like a ninja of nice,” I said. “But aren’t you dying to know why?”

“I doubt we’ll ever know,” Nina said. “Spencer, will you do the arrangement? You okay with delivering it, Rae?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “Except my tank is on empty. I
hate to ask, Nina, but since I’ve done so many deliveries in my truck lately, I was wondering if you could help me out with some money for gas?”

“Rae, absolutely! You should have said something sooner.”

She walked over, took the envelope from my hand, and took out the money. She handed me forty. “There. I’m so embarrassed. Forgive me?”

“It’s fine,” I said, touching her arm. “And thank you. That’s more than enough. You sure you want to give me that much?”

“I’m sure, hon.” She turned to Spencer. “So what should we do for this one?”

“Her name is Ella.” I’d never quite understood why, but they liked to know the person’s name. Maybe certain names scream certain flowers?

Spencer clapped his hands together. “Let me whip up something Ella will adore. I’m thinking lots of red holly berries, white roses, and maybe some lilies. Rae, you want me to see if I can find a Santa suit for you to wear for this one?”

“Uh, no, think I’ll pass. I’m not really good at the whole ho-ho-ho thing.”

“That, my friend, is a very good thing in my book.” He winked at me.
Oh, Spencer
.

While he went to work on the bouquet, I examined the handwriting. Young or old? Male or female? Friend or stranger? Impossible to tell.

Maybe Ella would give me a clue. I could only hope.

special delivery #2

ENGLEWOOD AVENUE ISN’T FAR FROM THE FLOWER SHOP. IT’S in one of the nice older neighborhoods near the hospital. Nina says it has character. Most new houses kind of look the same. But the older houses around Englewood are quaint and charming, and have lovely yards with big trees.

As I drove, darkness had just begun to fall, and I noticed that, unlike in newer housing developments, fancy Christmas displays didn’t greet me at every turn. I pulled up to the little gray house with white shutters. A
FOR SALE
sign stood in the front yard. I walked up to the front door, adorned with a giant wreath, and knocked. A minute passed before a petite lady with short white hair and very wrinkly skin opened the door. She wore navy slacks and a blue sweatshirt with two large red ladybugs on it.

“Hello. I’m from Full Bloom. I have a delivery for Ella.”

The woman didn’t crack a smile. “Yes, that’s me. Who are they from?”

I drummed up as much enthusiasm as I could. “It’s a secret! From a friend. That’s all I know. But isn’t that nice?”

She scowled. “I don’t want them.”

“Oh, don’t say that. They’re pretty, aren’t they? Can I come in? I’ll help you find the perfect place to put them.”

The lines on the woman’s face seemed to grow deeper before my eyes. She shook her head slightly. “You don’t understand. I’m only here for a few more days. On Sunday they move me out.”

Clearly she wasn’t happy about moving, and I couldn’t help but want to know more. “Where are you going?”

Moisture filled her eyes. “Park Place Assisted Living.” Ella took a deep breath. Anger covered her next words. “I’ve lived here for forty-two years. And then one day my son thinks I’m an invalid and tells me I have to move.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

We stood there for a few seconds, neither of us quite sure where flowers fit into the equation.

“So, don’t think of the flowers as celebrating the move,” I said. “Think of them as a good-bye gift. Maybe one of your neighbors wanted you to know that you’ll be missed but was too shy to say so.” Ella didn’t say anything, so I kept talking. “They’ll make your last few days here special. When you look at them, maybe you’ll think, ‘Someone cares about me.’ ”

Her posture relaxed a bit. “All right. You can bring them in.”

I followed Ella through the family room, where moving boxes sat against the walls, to an old dining room table. The table looked out a big picture window, into her backyard. And what a yard. Even in the twilight I could tell Ella had a serious green thumb. Trees in all different shapes and sizes stood against the fence line, with low-lying shrubs and colorful winter pansies filling the flower beds.

“Your yard is amazing,” I said.

“Thank you. It’s my pride and joy. I’ve always loved the outdoors, getting my hands dirty. And when it’s too cold to be outside, I can sit here with a cup of coffee and a good book and enjoy the view.”

“You like to read?” I asked.

“Yes. Very much. I worked as a school librarian for many years.”

“Really? I want to be an English teacher.”

It made me smile, the thought of her helping kids find books they’d like to read. I liked Ella. I could imagine myself sitting down at the table with her and talking books for hours.

Just then, Ella scurried by me, into the nearby kitchen. She went to the stove, turned the dial, and picked up a pan with steam rising out of it.

“It’s my dinnertime,” she explained.

“Oh, right. Well, I should go then. I hope you enjoy the flowers. And good luck with your move.”

I had started for the front door when Ella called out to me. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, but . . . well, would you like to stay? For dinner?”

I stopped. Nina was expecting me back at the shop to finish up a few things before I went home. But something told me Ella needed me more than the flowers did.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she continued. “Just some leftover spaghetti. There’s enough for both of us, if you’d like to join me.”

I smiled. “My name is Rae. And I’d love to stay and have dinner with you.”

poetry journal—december

GRANDMA

Every other Saturday,

we’d head to the library,

she and I.

“How many can I get?”

I’d ask each time.

“As many as we can carry!”

she’d reply.

Our arms full of

faraway places,

we’d go back to her house,

where she’d dish up

steaming bowls of

tomato soup and

grilled cheese sandwiches

for lunch.

I’d count out the crackers

before I crumbled them

into my soup.

“One, two, three, four.”

“Who’s the girl I most adore?”

she’d reply in her singsongy voice.

“Me?”

“You!”

I miss those days

of books,

of soup,

of Grandma and me.

Those days of sweet, sweet love.

enough is enough

I FORGOT TO CALL NATHAN.

I got caught up in thinking about Ella and how she reminded me a little bit of my grandma and ended up writing a poem after I got home.

We’d had a really nice dinner, slurping our spaghetti noodles like old friends. She’d told me all about her son and how he constantly worried. Since her eighty-fifth birthday, it’d gotten even worse. He’d call her three or four times a day, just to check on her. She said the move was more for him than for her. It made her angry, how he didn’t seem to have any regard for how she felt about the situation.