A Bouquet of Love

by Janice Thompson

  “You should be a writer, Cassia.” Athena gave me a comforting smile. “I love the way you word things.”

  “No thanks. I’ll stick to flowers. They’re my gift.”

  “Sure, but be careful not to limit yourself.” Athena took a sip of her diet soda. “You are obviously a girl of many talents.”

  Generous words, coming from someone with so many gifts and abilities. I smiled and whispered, “Thank you.” Oh, but how I wished one of my talents included being in two places at once. Then I could stay here with Alex and go to California with my family all at the same time.

  After Athena and Stephen left to go to their hotel, she and I continued our conversation by text message. I half expected her to celebrate our family’s return to the Golden State, but I could tell from her texts that she felt we belonged here on Galveston Island, and not just because of the show.

  We do belong here! I don’t want to go anywhere.

  Those words kept skittering through my brain as I waited on our larger-than-usual afternoon crowd. But what choice did I have in the matter? If the whole family left, I’d have to go with them. As much as I hated being tied to Babbas’s apron strings, I’d hate even more to live without my family.

  But I’d also hate living without Alex.

  Every time I thought about leaving him behind, a swarm of angry bees took to buzzing around in my belly. Felt like it, anyway. Nothing seemed to lift my spirits, not even humming ten Judy Garland songs in a row. No, the day was shot, and I couldn’t get it back again.

  Or maybe I could.

  At a quarter after five the trio of women from Splendora converged on Super-Gyros, dressed in the brightest neon colors I’d ever seen. Florals, no less. Now, I liked flowers, but this was a little too much for me, and definitely hard on the eyes, especially when you factored in Twila’s garish hat, complete with a large silk carnation in a blinding shade of fuchsia. The fact that the back of her skirt appeared to be twisted up in her undergarments didn’t help either.

  I gestured to her backside, and she wriggled the fabric back down into place, muttering, “Merciful heavens! Why didn’t someone tell me?”

  “We were down on the island to sing at a women’s event,” Bonnie Sue said. She pointed at her outfit. “The island beautification society. They had a gardening theme. Very colorful.”

  “I see.”

  “They served us a teensy-tiny lunch,” Twila said and then rubbed her stomach. “Really, not enough to feed a baby bird.”

  “So it only made sense to stop by and have dinner at one of our favorite restaurants!” Jolene grabbed a menu and perused it as she continued to talk. “We simply couldn’t wait until we got back to Splendora. It’s quite a drive, you know, especially at this time of day.”

  “Oh yes.” Bonnie Sue shifted her ginormous lime-green handbag from one shoulder to the other. “It just made sense to stay on the island until evening traffic time was behind us.”

  Looked like they’d be with us a couple of hours then.

  “We bickered over what to have—pizza or gyros.” Twila giggled as she clapped her hands together. “I won. I voted for Super-Gyros. We can have pizza anytime, but I don’t know any other place to get a great gyro than right here!” She began to sing the praises of our family’s shop, and before long the other ladies were shopping our store shelves for a variety of items. Mama joined them and soon they were chatting comfortably as if they were old friends. Then again, the Splendora trio seemed to have that effect on people.

  After they’d placed their orders, Mama seated the vivacious gals at a table nearest the counter. She delivered their food a short time later, and Twila asked for extra tzatziki sauce. Bonnie Sue took a bite of her gyro, and her eyes rolled back in what appeared to be delirium.

  “Dee-lish-ous!” she proclaimed.

  “I know what would be perfect with this. Have you tried our kalamatas?” Mama went behind the counter and came out with a little dish of them. “Ours are imported, of course. You’ll never taste anything like them. I always say they’re as ripe as if we plucked them off the tree ourselves.”

  Bonnie Sue balked when Mama offered her the first one. “I’m not an olive fan, sorry.”

  “You will be after you taste these.” Mama stood firm, bowl of olives in hand.

  Though she appeared hesitant, Bonnie Sue took the olive and popped it in her mouth. Her grimace eased into a smile—a broad smile. “Oh. My. Goodness!”

  “I know, right?” Mama giggled.

  “I can’t believe I lived this long without eating kalamata olives. And what a beautiful color they are too!” Bonnie Sue laughed, stuck her plump hand back into the dish, and came out with a second. Then a third.

  “Save some for me, for pity’s sake.” Twila stepped in between Bonnie Sue and the olive bowl. “You’re not the only hungry one in this crowd.”

  Sure enough, we did have a crowd. Our three favorite nuns arrived to purchase enough sandwiches for all of their fellow sisters back at the convent. They greeted Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue with hugs all around, then grabbed their food and headed off.

  Looked like Babbas’s advertising was really paying off. Dozens of people came in with coupons in hand. Others carried the flyers Babbas had peppered around the island. A couple mentioned seeing Babbas’s advertisement in the local paper. Still others shared with gusto about how their friends had sung the praises of Super-Gyros, so they had to try it out for themselves.

  Sad that all of this had to happen now, just as we prepared to shut down the place.

  Of course, no one but the family knew, and I certainly wasn’t going to spoil everyone’s good time today. The Splendora ladies were all giggles and smiles as they ate . . . and ate . . . and ate their dinner. When the crowd thinned, they were still with us, now setting up camp in our kitchen, where Mama shared story after story from our years in the restaurant business.

  “Sounds like you’re just where the Lord planted you, honey.” Twila reached to give Mama a hug, and I watched as my mother melted into her new friend’s embrace.

  “Praise God for his direction in your lives,” Bonnie Sue added. “He led you here to Galveston, and he led your sweet Cassia all the way to Splendora to meet us.”

  “And to meet that handsome nephew of mine.” Twila gave me a motherly wink. “He’s quite a catch, but then you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you.”

  I nodded, unable to respond over the lump in my throat. Alex was quite a catch, all right. Only, I was about to let him slip off my hook, wasn’t I?

  Bonnie Sue reached over to the counter and snagged the last remaining piece of baklava from a sticky tray. This sent Twila into a panic. She began to fan herself, her cheeks blazing as red as the maraschino cherries in the jar nearby.

  “Bonnie Sue! You didn’t pay for that.” Twila slapped her friend’s hand and the baklava shot in the air.

  Bonnie Sue caught it with her other hand with the skill of a pro baseball player. Before popping it in her mouth, she looked at Mama and said, “Do you mind? I’m happy to pay for it. After I eat it, I mean.” She shoveled it in, chewed and swallowed it, then sighed in pure delight. She licked each sticky finger, a look of delirium on her face.

  “Pay for it, my eye.” Mama pulled out a fresh tray of the sweet stuff and put it in a large to-go container. “You’ll do no such thing. You’ve been such a blessing. Why, you’ll never know how amazing your timing is. I needed a bit of socializing today.”

  “Oh, well, you’re in luck! We specialize in socializing.” Jolene eased open the to-go container and weaseled out a piece of baklava, then popped it in her mouth.

  “Well, if you can’t beat ’em . . .” Twila pulled the top off the container and helped herself to a piece double the size.

  This got Mama so tickled that she couldn’t stop laughing. Babbas came into the kitchen at this point, likely wondering what the howling was about. He took one look at all of the estrogen in the room and quickly backed out. I didn’t blame hi
m.

  When the ladies finally left, I pondered the events of the day. While I secretly thanked the Lord for Mama’s blossoming friendships, I had to wonder about God’s timing. Why bring so many friends her way just before we left the island? Seemed . . . cruel. And why bless our shop with so many new customers today just as Babbas made up his mind to leave? We would have some unhappy people when the Closed sign went up in a few weeks.

  Mentally exhausted, I climbed the stairs to our little apartment. Today I saw the tiny space through different eyes—the brick walls, the beautiful view of the Strand, the solid architecture. How had I overlooked its old-world charm before? I would miss it once we left.

  I didn’t appear to be the only one. When I climbed into bed that night, all of my siblings gathered around me as if leaning on me for comfort.

  “So we’re going back to Santa Cruz?” Darian crossed his arms at his chest and rested against the footboard.

  “I don’t want to go back.” Gina pulled the covers over her head. I could hear her whimpering underneath. “I have new friends here. I’m going to miss them.”

  “You had great friends back in California too.” I did my best to sound encouraging, but I felt my little sister’s pain. As much as I’d wanted to go back at first, leaving the island seemed impossible now.

  Filip nudged the covers with his arm. “Why didn’t you just tell Babbas that earlier when he brought it up, goober? He listens to you.”

  Gina stuck her head back out and wiped her eyes. “I was scared. Sometimes he yells.”

  “That’s the part that stinks most.” Eva rose and walked to the window. “I hate that we’re all too scared to tell our own father what we think.”

  “I don’t think we have to be anymore,” Darian said. “He’s . . . changed. A lot. I can see it all over his face.”

  “Yeah, he does seem nicer now.” Filip looked from sibling to sibling. “Haven’t you noticed?”

  I had noticed, actually. In fact, Babbas hadn’t yelled once today. Talk about progress.

  “It’s just so confusing. I’m not sure what to think anymore.” Eva sat in the windowsill and gazed outside. “Even if I could talk to Babbas about what I’m feeling, I don’t know what I would say.” A little sigh escaped her. She turned to face us, her eyes shimmering with moisture. “I really hated it here at first. You all know that. But now I’m all mixed up inside. The timing is just . . . weird.”

  It was weird, all right.

  “If we leave now, how will I ever get to build that giant sand castle with you, Cassia?” Gina wriggled her way into my lap. “Remember? You promised to take me to Stewart Beach to build sand castles.”

  “We can still do that . . . before we go.”

  “Yes, but who’s going to look after it when we’re gone?” She sniffled and I knew that tears weren’t far behind.

  “Sand castles don’t last forever.” Filip rolled his eyes. “The wind will blow it over or the tide will wash it out to sea, so what does it matter if we’re in Galveston or Santa Cruz? Won’t make any difference to the sand castle.”

  “But it will to me!” Gina dissolved into tears at this proclamation.

  I held her close. “The point is, you can build sand castles no matter where you go, and we can help you because we’ll all be together.”

  “And you can make lovely flower arrangements wherever you go.” Yia Yia’s gentle voice interrupted our conversation. I turned to see her standing in the open doorway. With one hand on her arthritic hip, she made her way toward the bed and took a seat on the edge. “Are you talking about the move?”

  “Yes.” Gina sighed. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Me either,” Darian added.

  “What about you, Yia Yia?” I asked. “Do you want to go back to Santa Cruz?”

  “Where I want to be”—her eyes grew misty—“is with my family. Doesn’t matter where, as long as we’re together.”

  I understood. Sort of. I wanted to keep the family together, of course. Staying behind would leave a hole in my heart the size of the state of Texas. But giving up my relationship with Alex—the day in, day out one—would be the hardest choice of my life. Harder by far than leaving my friends in Santa Cruz to come here.

  Still, when I looked around the room, when I saw the precious faces of those I loved more than life itself, I knew in my heart that I could never let them go without me, no matter how much it hurt.

  Darian suggested we pray together, so we did. That prayer acted as a salve to calm us down, especially when Yia Yia joined us in lyrical Greek, her words laced with emotion and tears. Afterward we all hugged and said our good nights. I wiped away Gina’s tears and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “It will end well,” I whispered.

  “Promise?” Her pain-filled eyes met mine, and I forced myself to nod.

  After turning out the light, I settled into bed, my thoughts reeling. In spite of the prayer, I had a hard time sleeping that night. Who could sleep, when wrestling with the sheets was so much more fun?

  Between the hours of midnight and one, I convinced myself that I should stay in Galveston. Pursue my relationship with Alex apart from my family.

  Between the hours of one and two, I found my heart nearly as twisted as the sheets every time I thought about Gina growing up without me. And Darian. And Eva. And Filip. We would eventually grow apart if I stayed behind.

  Between the hours of two and three, I thought about the flower shop. Marcella wanted to sell it to me. She’d even hinted at giving it to me for a great price, no less. How could I turn down such a generous—and easy—offer? Working with flowers was my dream job, after all. And on my new salary, I could certainly afford an apartment of my own, right?

  Between the hours of three and four, I reminded myself that California—vast, beautiful, tropical California—had hundreds, if not thousands, of flower shops. Surely I could find a job in one of them. Babbas would likely champion the idea now that he was taking a softer, kinder approach to life.

  Sometime around sunrise, I started thinking about Bella, about her offer to join the other vendors at Club Wed. What a privilege to work with the crème de la crème. My résumé would shine like a new penny. Yia Yia would be so proud.

  Yia Yia. My heart felt heavy as I factored my grandmother into this equation for the first time. I couldn’t let her go to California without me. At nearly ninety years old, she might not be with us much longer. The very idea caused me to cry. When Gina stirred in the bed next to mine, I pulled the pillow over my head to muffle the sound. That, coupled with the inability to breathe properly, finally caused the tears to stop. Why fight it? I had no choice but to stick with my family, no matter how far it took me away from Galveston.

  Galveston . . . Made me think of the beach.

  The beach . . . Made me think of bikes.

  Biking . . . Made me think of Alex.

  Alex . . . Made me think I might just have a meltdown if I left without him.

  Just about the time I’d settled on the “I must go to California with my family” decision, I realized how strong my feelings for Alex really were. I remembered the three little words he’d used in his text.

  Now if only he’d use the next three words: I. Love. You.

  They would make my decision a whole lot easier.

  27

  Just You, Just Me

  You might be Greek if you think dishwashers are people.

  The next couple of days we all tiptoed around Mama and Babbas. On Saturday morning, just before opening the shop to customers, our father gathered us together. I could tell his smile was painted on as he spoke.

  “I talked to the landlord. He doesn’t think he will have any trouble leasing out the property. There’s a local artist who’s been hoping for a spot on the Strand.” Babbas didn’t look excited by this possibility, but he gave us all a thumbs-up.

  “I see.” Only two words from Mama. I couldn’t tell much from her tone either.

  “He’s thinking t
hat we might be able to get out of the lease by the end of the month.” Babbas reached for a broom. “I’m thinking another week or two and then we’ll start the process of shutting things down so that we can get packed up. Cleared out.”

  “Cleared out.” Two more words from Mama. Zero emotion.

  Really, Mama? Can’t you give us more than that?

  On the other hand, I had enough emotion for all of us. Leaving would be bad enough, but closing up shop? Packing up the very things we’d just unboxed weeks ago? Loading and lifting, lugging and hauling? The exhaustion hit me all over again. No thanks. I’d had enough of that already.

  Mama simply nodded and walked into the other room.

  Babbas looked my way and sighed as he tossed the dish towel over his shoulder. “She hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you,” I said. “She’s just got a lot on her mind.”

  “No, she hates me.” He walked into the kitchen, muttering in Greek.

  Gina tagged along behind him, tugging on his apron. “Babbas? Babbas?”

  He turned and knelt down in front of her, sweeping her into his arms. “What is it, little monkey?”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t hate you. I love you.”

  “Well, I love you too, Gina.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “The yelling kind of love?” she asked. “Or the hugging kind of love?”

  The innocence of her question made me gasp out loud. Yikes. Our father’s eyes misted over as he pulled her into a warm embrace. “The hugging kind of love.”

  “Good.” She pulled away and put her hands on his shoulders. “Because I have something to tell you and I don’t want you to yell.”

  “I won’t.” He spoke in a voice filled with genuine sweetness. “What is it?”

  “Babbas, I don’t want to go back to California. I like it here.” She spun in a circle, nearly knocking several pans off the counter in the process.

  Babbas stood and straightened up her mess but never fussed at her. “Well now, sweet girl, that is a dilemma. But we have to do what makes sense for the whole family.”