The Art of Arranging Flowers

by Lynne Branard

“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.

  •THIRTY-FIVE•

  WE 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 bough
t. 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.

  •THIRTY-SIX•

  ARE you ready?” Dan is standing in the doorway of the shop. He is wearing a navy sports coat and tan slacks. I can tell he’s lost weight and his color is a little ashen. I wonder if the cancer has spread, whether he should be out and about. But then he smiles and I decide this is not the time to question such a thing. “You look fabulous,” he adds, and I grin in return.

  I am wearing a dress Nora gave me. It is light blue, sleeveless, and I have to say it fits me very well. She claimed she had bought it along with another one for a friend in Colville but that it turned out they were too small and she thought I might like them. She said exactly those words as she handed me the Nordstrom’s bag, but I remember how she looked when I told her a couple of days before then that I was wearing the pink dress from 1991 to both of the events this weekend. She closed her eyes and held her hand across her chest like she was fighting a lung infection.

  Apparently, one cannot be seen in the same attire at two events scheduled one day apart, and apparently, Nora sneaked into my house and stole my old dress because after I explained what I would be wearing and after she showed up at the shop with these two dresses she claims she bought for this mystery friend, I have not been able to find it. She says she has no idea what happened to the dress, but I can tell she’s lying because she won’t look me in the eye when she lies, and she can’t look me in the eye when I ask her friend’s name in Colville and she won’t look me in the eye when I ask her if she took my pink dress. She just waves away the question like it’s an insect buzzing around her head.

  “You are a rhapsody of beauty in blue,” Dan says, and I glance down at the dress and smile. He does have a way with his words.

  He opens the door to lead us out, and suddenly I remember something.

  “Wait!” And I hurry over to the refrigerator and take out the boutonniere I made for him. It includes green dendrobium orchids, hot pink roses, and green ivy. I hurry back and pin it to his lapel. I stand back and admire it. “Perfect,” I say.

  He glances down at the small bouquet. “Ah, Ruby, you bring me great joy.”

  I smile. I turn back to Clementine, who is resting behind the counter. “We’ll be back in a jiff,” I tell her, then grab the keys and lock the door, and together we walk out of the shop.

  “Thank you for asking me to go with you,” I say to Dan as we cross the street.

  Ever the gentleman, he holds my arm and keeps a slow and steady gait. He understands I am still a little handicapped in heels.

  “Honestly, I thought you probably already had a date,” he replies.

  I shake my head, recalling the voice answering John Cash’s phone. “Nope,” I respond. “No dates for the florist.”

  We enter the yard through the gate next to the barbershop and immediately find Nora and Jimmy and move over to the two seats next to them.

  I give Nora a little kiss on the cheek. I can see how she is admiring my dress.

  “You said his yard was beautiful, but I had no idea!” Nora comments as I lean over and give Jimmy the same greeting as I gave her.

  I watch as she looks around, measuring Henry’s little paradise. “I always thought he was cooking meth back here behind that big fence.”

  Jimmy shakes his head.

  “Well, I did,” she insists. “And don’t tell me that thought didn’t cross your mind once or twice.”

  I turn to Dan and smile. “You remember Nora,” I say, by way of introduction, and also to change the subject.

  She lights up. “Hello, Captain Miller,” and she holds out her hand, which he takes.

  “Pleasure,” he notes, and then nods to Jimmy. “Good afternoon.”

  “Afternoon,” comes the response.

  “Who’s officiating?” Nora wants to know.

  We take our seats. And I glance around to see if he is here.

  “Dr. Buckley,” I answer, calling out the name of the former veterinarian. I can’t help myself, but I also look to see if his replacement is also somewhere close by. I don’t see either of them.

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p; “He’s here,” Nora reports, and I’m not sure which man she’s talking about. And she looks at me and can see I am confused. “Buckley,” she adds. “Up there,” and she motions with her chin to the area in front of us.

  “Right,” I say, seeing the former veterinarian.

  “The other one, too.”

  And I feel her watching me. I do not respond.

  “He’s with someone.” And I see that she is more disappointed than I am. I did not tell her about my courage, my resolve, my phone call and quick hang up.

  I simply nod, denying the urge to glance around.

  She’s about to say something else when the music starts and the best man, Lou Ann’s boss at the library, Clyde Bowlin, and Henry join Wade at the front. They stand near the pond, a wedding arch wrapped in yellow and white blooms with two big baskets of yellow dahlias and irises situated at either side of it. When the wedding song is played, we all stand.

  Lou Ann is prettier than I have ever seen her. Usually dressed very conservatively in corduroy skirts and sensible shoes, she has never been one to call attention to herself, but today she is radiant. She has on makeup, pink lipstick, and her hair is down, shoulder-length and curled. She’s not wearing her glasses or a sweater set and she is smiling, something else I don’t recall from my brief encounters with her when I check out my books. Her dress is simple, a long white gown with a yellow silk ribbon tied around her waist, matching the bouquets, the baskets of flowers, the maid of honor’s dress, and the yellow tie that Henry is wearing, along with the single yellow gladiolus boutonniere in his lapel that is surrounded by variegated pittosporum in an ivory satin ribbon.

  She is being escorted by her brother, a civil engineer from Seattle. Henry had explained that both of her parents were dead but she was very close to her younger brother. Henry had met him once. He’d asked for a haircut, and Henry had liked him right away.

  We remain standing for the greeting and a prayer, and then we take our seats.