Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Who’s the boss here?

  The enclosure card beckoned, taunted. In cramped, minuscule print, the words couldn’t be more perfect. I never know how to tell you how I feel about you, so I don’t. But you mean everything to me. I love you. Reid.

  Had it been any other card, there might have been room for a salutation—Mom. But there wasn’t, and that made everything just a little too perfect. The shop bell jingled. Señora Rojas’s voice reached him as she assured a customer that, of course, they could do a rush order before noon. “Wayne is the finest and most dedicated florist around. He would never leave a customer waiting for an order.”

  Perhaps he wouldn’t have done it—before. His sense of pride might have prevented a lapse into the risky world of … matchmaking? Wayne winced. But, that’s what it was. If he did this, he’d be a matchmaker. A strange mixture of tingling excitement and churning gut left him still undecided.

  However, as Señora Rojas continued to send overly-loud digs at him as she wrote up an order for a cheerful bouquet of hydrangeas and daisies, he made up his mind. Wayne strode to the front, plucked a duplicate enclosure card from the rack, grabbed an envelope, and gave the customer an absent-minded, or so he hoped, wave as he disappeared into the workroom again. As the curtain swooshed behind him, he heard Señora Rojas make a comment about his mind when fixated on his work.

  That’s what you think.

  It didn’t take long to copy the card, though writing with such tiny print proved more difficult than he thought. Two identical arrangements—one in the expected mason jar, one in a contemporary cobalt blue vase. And hours later, when his phone alarm went off at two-thirty, Wayne left the remaining orders abandoned on the ticket wheel, grabbed the two arrangements, and bolted out the back door. Gotta deliver these while I’ve got the guts.

  Kate Whyte bolted from the door the moment Kelsey came into view. “I’m late. And so are you.”

  Happy day to you, too.

  Kelsey called out an apology, though, and pushed inside. The floral display on the table by the door—you could tell the season just by looking as you came into The Prayer Room. They’d changed from chrysanthemums to dried flowers and wheat. In a couple of weeks, there’s probably be holly or poinsettias or something.

  I wonder if Wayne does it. Never thought of that.

  A sniffle in the prayer closet told her she wasn’t alone. She unbuckled the case and pulled out her guitar before moving to the closet. But a teenager met her at the doorway. Kelsey offered the brightest grin she could and asked if she could help. “Kate had to leave.”

  “Good.”

  Oh, great. What horrible sin have you committed?

  As if the girl heard the silent question, she muttered. “I swear she sees me as a walking sin. Like my mere existence is, like, proof of God’s wrath on America or something.”

  Why is it that something that would sound overly dramatic for anyone else seems understated for Kate?

  Before she could offer to pray, the girl scooted toward the back door. “Thanks for being cool. I’ll come in later next time.”

  And with the backdoor chime sounding, the girl was gone. Silence. Kelsey scanned the prayer walls, looking for any new sticky notes. A possible divorce, a wayward teen, gratitude for provision. All in a day’s prayer.

  She hadn’t even had a chance to sit down and tune her guitar when the front door opened. Kelly peered around the wall and saw Wayne from The Pettler, standing there with a vase full of sunflowers. “Hi, Wayne!” She plopped her guitar down in a wingback chair and hurried to his side. Uncle Mel. He probably thought I needed cheering up—so sweet.

  “Got a delivery for you.” The man’s expression closely resembled that of a constipated baby as he stood there holding it out to her.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good.” He shuffled his feet as she took the flowers, and that’s when she saw it—excitement. The man nearly exploded with excitement.

  Over flowers?

  One step at a time, he backed toward the door. One slow step at a time. “You have a good day now.”

  A tip! Kelsey held up one hand and asked him to wait as she raced for her purse. “Just a second…”

  “No, no. You enjoy your flowers. I just love seeing people’s faces when they get ’em. It’s why I do this.”

  “Yeah, right. You just love flowers. I know you.” She stroked a petal, remembering Reid’s description of Jesus and the flower. “Reid told me about the daisies—beautiful.”

  Still, he inched back once more, each step slower than the last. And that’s when it hit her. He wants to see me read the card. So, with a wave and another hearty thanks, Kelsey set the bouquet on an end table and pulled the card from the fork. The tiny envelopes—as a child, she’d thought they were the most wonderful things in the world.

  A whoosh of cold air entered as Wayne backed through the door. She could still feel his eyes on her. But all thoughts of Wayne dissolved as she saw the writing on the card. Reid’s!

  She blinked, twice, trying to focus but too excited to be successful. Then the words appeared. I never know how to tell you how I feel about you, so I don’t. But you mean everything to me. I love you. Reid.

  “No… no way. Lord, really?” Wayne forgotten, Kelsey spun in a circle in a happy hallelujah dance. “You know I’d begun to doubt this waiting thing. You know it! And look!” She waved the card, print facing heavenward, as if the Lord needed just a little assistance to see the wonderfulness that was that card.

  A fumble for her phone, a glance at the time, the sigh of her heart. Two and a half hours until he comes…

  “Hey, Reid? That guy from the flower shop is out there. Says he needs to talk to you?”

  Reid looked up from plating a salmon and wild rice and nodded. “Be right there.” Steamed broccoli, garlic, butter, and dill drizzled over both broccoli and salmon—done. He slid it under the heat lights and nodded at the server who whisked it away again.

  The door slammed shut behind him before Reid could catch it. “Does it to me every time.” He gave Wayne a shrug and a wry smile. “What’s up?”

  “Um…” Red-faced, feet shuffling, hardly able to glance in even the direction of Reid’s eyes, Wayne looked like a little kid who’d broken the front window—again.

  “What? I’ve got prep work before I’m off.”

  “So…” Wayne shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, you know how I told you about my niece?”

  “The floral designer?”

  A nod, another shuffle. Wayne cleared his throat. “Well, so Brooke had this big mishap at work—somehow got orders all mixed up. Sent stuff to all the wrong people. Mom’s convinced she’s gonna get fired.”

  “Yeah… that’s tough. I’ll add her to the prayer board the minute I get—”

  But as Reid turned to go, Wayne interrupted him. “Your mother’s flowers—that card? Yeah. It went to Kelsey just a while ago.”

  Each word reverberated in his mind until he ached to crush it out again. He could only manage an abrupt reply. “What?!”

  “I’m sorry—well, I want to be sorry, but I can’t be. If you saw her face when she read that card.”

  “The card I wrote for Mom?” Reid’s brain scrambled to recall the words he’d written, but only one stood out. Love. “The one where I said I never tell her how much I love her? You gave that to Kelsey?!”

  There, Wayne had the decency to blush and stammer a bit. “I—I—yep. And if you could have seen her face. She danced. If you’d seen—”

  “Well, I didn’t.” Something niggled at him. What about the situation didn’t fit? Before he could work out that problem, the reminder that Kelsey sat in The Prayer Room with his mother’s sunflowers, thinking he’d admitted how much he loved her. A groan roared from the depths of his heart. “What I am I supposed to do? I can’t tell her it was a mistake. It’d hurt her—”

  “Then don’t!” Wayne stepped forward. “Look, it’s my fault. I did this. But you don’t have to t
ell her that. You’da sent ’em eventually. So just take the… mix-up as a… blessing and…” With each word, his argument petered into worthlessness. “Reid, really. I want to say I’m sorry, but I can’t. She was so happy. So, I’m not sorry.” Wayne’s repeated apology rang true, annoying as it was. “But I will ask your forgiveness.”

  A lifetime habit of raking his hands through his hair when frustrated reemerged, despite his fight against it. “Chefs never touch their hands to their face or their hair. Don’t forget that.” His culinary arts teacher had been adamant, and yet he’d blown it. Again.

  “Wayne, of course, I forgive you, but I won’t pretend I’m not ticked.”

  The man’s shoulders slumped as he turned to go. “I hope you’ll just let her have them…and everything that goes with it. You’re both so in love it hurts to watch. So, take my mix-up as a gift, would you?”

  “And Mom’s flowers? How much do I owe you for those? Can you still get them to her, or should we stop by the store?” Reid mentally berated himself for not demanding a redo—free. It was the least—

  “—took ’em already. It was the least I could do. I’ll slip a refund under your door. I really do hope it works out for you, though. I do.”

  For the next two hours, he prepped the night chef’s work and wrangled the question in his mind. I have to tell her. I can’t have a lie like that out there. Three months. It’s just three more. By then, the awkwardness would go away. And if I tell her right away, she won’t have time to say or do anything to be embarrassed about. That would help.

  Marco, the night chef, checked the kitchen as he swept in and nodded. “You’re good to go. Thank you.”

  Reid hadn’t made it to his apartment before his phone rang and his mother's face flashed on the screen. “Hi, Reid! I just had to call and thank you for the flowers. Silly, when I’ll be there so soon, but they are gorgeous. That card is the sweetest thing I’ve ever gotten. I’ll probably—”

  “Frame it.” They laughed as he added, “You’ve framed everything else I ever gave you—including that popsicle stick frame in kindygarden.”

  “Well, I’ve got to go get ready. I have a hot date with a cool dude tonight.”

  His groan earned him a couple of curious expressions as he hurried toward the alley behind The Pettler. “Mom, just don’t. Trust me. Don’t.”

  “Whatever. I’ll see you, soon. Love you, Reid.”

  It took effort, but he made himself voice it. “Love you, too, Mom.”

  The stairs—two at a time. He had his jacket and t-shirt off before he made it to his bedroom. A clean shirt—buttoned down for dinner, of course—waited for him. Deodorant, a fresh sweep of the comb through unruly locks. And as if penance for his earlier mistake, he scrubbed his hands again, too.

  Yeah. Just procrastinating. Time to get this over with.

  Wayne stepped out the back door as Reid reached the bottom of the stairs. “We okay?”

  “Not going to pretend I’m not still ticked, but we’re good. Mistakes happen to anyone, I guess.” He turned to go, and spun back again. “Wait. How’d Mom get the card if you gave it to Kelsey?”

  “Copied it down on the receipt when I wrote it out. So, I just copied that onto a card. I’m just sorry your Mom didn’t get it in your writing.” He held the door open wide. “Want to come in and rewrite it for her?”

  Reid would have refused—started to. But Wayne added, “It took up both sides of the card in my big writing.”

  She’ll want to frame it. I’d better. “Still got that receipt?”

  Señora Rojas eyed him as he and Wayne entered the front. “We need the receipt for the sunflower delivery to Ferndale.”

  How she did it, she probably didn’t even know. But Señora Rojas reached into the middle of a stack of invoices and pulled one out. The right one, of course. Reid groaned again as he reread the words. I never know how to tell you how I feel about you, so I don’t. But you mean everything to me. I love you. Reid.

  “If she never speaks to me again, I’m blaming you.”

  Reid expected Wayne’s demand that he keep quiet about the mix-up, but Señora Rojas stepped forward. Cupping his face in both of her hands as if he were a little kid again, she locked her gaze with his and said, “This girl loves you. Do you hear that? Whatever you do, don’t break her heart. You’re not that man.”

  And with that, she disappeared out the door with orders for Wayne to give Reid a refund. “You don’t have to do that, Wayne. Mom got her flowers. You made it right.”

  But Wayne pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket and tucked it into Reid’s. “Let me do the right thing, okay? Wait’ll Brooke hears. She’ll get a laugh at her old uncle.”

  “Don’t tell her. There’s no reason to make her feel worse.”

  “Wor—” Wayne coughed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  As he pocketed the card next to the envelope, Reid backed away. “Pray for me, man. I can’t botch this. Not now that I know she might be okay with an ‘us’ someday.”

  He’d expected another protest. He didn’t get it. Wayne just nodded. Reid dashed out the front door and half-jogged down to The Prayer Room.

  The wind blew a swirl of lazy leaves around his ankles as he reached for the push bar and held on. Okay, Lord. You got this? Because I know I don’t have a clue what to say or do. So, um, help here? Yeah. Help. He tried not to add it, but the thought forced its way past his emotional defenses. Please don’t let me lose my chance.

  For the first time that week, Kelsey looked up as he entered. Reid tried to smile. Kelsey beamed. In one fluid movement, she hopped up, set her guitar in its case, and strode to his side. Without even the slightest hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “Thank you for the flowers. You can’t—I can’t—”

  Reid listened, his heart breaking as she inhaled, exhaled, and tried again. “Just thanks.”

  He had to do something—fast. One minute he pulled her toward her usual spot, the next he had her in the back corner of the prayer closet, hoping no one would come in before he managed to make her hate him. “Every word on that card is true. I’ve been waiting six months to ask you out, and every day, I—” Why couldn’t I be good with words—just this time, God? Really? Reid tried again. “It’s not easy for me to tell people how I feel. But…”

  “I know. You said it—in the card. Maybe you’re better at writing.”

  Oh, Lord, help!

  Once more, he tried to confess the whole mix-up without destroying any chances they might have. Complete honesty. So, he began with the prophecy, Wayne egging him on, even his mother telling him she wanted to meet this girl he wouldn’t stop talking about. And Kelsey glowed with each word. That bubbly, vivacious side of her that only showed outside The Prayer Room nearly exploded with the happiness he increased by the second. And I’ll kill it in four words flat.

  “I’ve been waiting for February so I could ask you out.”

  “Ha! My uncle was telling me about Joan Oberton’s thing about how new Christians shouldn’t date for a year! I told him if that was it, you’d be mortified to do it on Valentine’s Day!” And with that, her hands clapped over her mouth. A muffled, “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

  He tried not to react, truly. But a smile formed and, before he knew it, the question followed. “So, you talked to your uncle about me?”

  “Yeah. I mean, he’s the closest thing I have to a dad, you know.”

  Might need to buy a shotgun proof… suit of armor for when he hears this. Ugh. Another glance at her showed Kelsey just beaming. Better get it over with before she expects a proposal or something. “Um, coming here, every day, seeing you? It’s what keeps me going when I don’t want to chop another carrot or fillet another fish. But…”

  “That prophecy thing. What do you think about that? It sounds…”

  Only then as her voice trailed off did Reid notice their hands wrapped together. He fought back the urge to hold her again and concentrate
d on the picture of intertwined fingers that looked oddly like a beating heart. “I don’t know. At the time, I talked to a couple of people. They both said they didn’t think I was obligated to ‘obey’ Scripture used out of context to support an idea like that. But I decided it wouldn’t hurt.” He gave her what he hoped wasn’t too pathetic of a smile. “Lately, it’s been really hard.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t wait another three months. I thought I saw things that might mean… something. But…” Kelsey shrugged. “You don’t want to assume.”

  “Yeah. Well, I was going to stick to it. I figured if we were what the Lord had in mind, then you’d understand come February. But…”

  Her head dropped to his shoulder. “Yeah.”

  Reid didn’t allow the warmth of her cheek on him to derail his confession, but temptation didn’t make it easy. “Today something awkward happened. Telling you kind of got taken out of my hands.”

  Kelsey stiffened. “Huh?”

  “The flowers? That note?”

  How anyone could go more rigid, Reid didn’t know, but she did. “What are you talking about?”

  “They were for my mom.” His mind corrected his earlier calculations. Make that five words flat. “Wayne’s niece did some order mix-up thing, and you got Mom’s birthday flowers… her note.”

  Shocked eyes, red face. Kelsey jumped to her feet. “Wha—oh, no, no, no. I did not—” She fled the prayer closet. Reid followed on her heels.

  “Kelsey, wait.” She didn’t. “I’m not sorry it happened. Who knows how long it would have taken me to tell you?” Still, she kept going, packing the guitar with speed that he’d never seen in her. “That card said everything—well, no. But some of the things I’ve wanted to say for months.”

  “Yeah, right. Don’t bother, Reid. I’m so—”

  He caught her hands and as she tried to leave. “Kelsey, please. Listen.” She paused and attempted a red-faced glance in his general direction, but the sight of tears prompted him not to force it again. “I just wonder if maybe the Lord did this. Maybe this was His way of telling me I didn’t have to keep waiting for this year to be over.”