Winter in Full Bloom

by Anita Higman

  With that new thought nagging at me, I zipped up my coat against the biting wind and returned to my hotel. When I whooshed into the lobby, to my great surprise, Marcus was there waiting for me. He leaped from the couch when he saw me.

  “What are you doing here?” I walked over to him, happy to see his smile.

  “I came in after tea. I wanted to see how it went with your sister.”

  Okay, so was this guy trying to melt my heart? “Thanks.” I wanted to give Marcus a hug, since I excelled at hugs. It felt right as rain on flowers to do so, and yet I held back. Maybe Camille’s question had influenced me—what would I do with Marcus when it was time to go home?

  “So, how did it go? And how’s your knee?”

  “My knee aches, but I’ll be fine. I’m on the mend. And it went well with Camille. At first she was aloof, but that was understandable. She’s been hurt in ways I cringe to imagine. But after a while she warmed up to me. I think the more time we spend together, the better.” Now, for the hard part. “In fact, the only time Camille could be with me tomorrow was for dinner, or tea.” I grinned. “So, do you mind if we move our plans? I know—”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Oh?” I waited a second or two for Marcus to pick another evening for our date, but his pause went longer than expected. “Marcus? What is it?”

  “You know, I did have some time to think while I waited for you, and I couldn’t be happier that you found your sister. It’s what we hoped and prayed for. And now you’re getting to know her. I feel honored that I was a part of this endeavor.”

  Endeavor? His little speech made me scared. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that I was happy to help you, but now I’ll just be getting in your way. You need to be thinking about Camille right now. Family. That’s what’s important. Because you won’t get to be with her much longer.”

  “Well, I still have two and a half weeks here, and it’s true, I do want to make Camille a priority. But it’s not a problem for us to continue to see each other. You sound like you want me to go.” Like it’s over. I held my hand over my mouth so he couldn’t see my chin quiver.

  “No, not at all.” Marcus took a step closer to me but refrained from touching me. “Of course I don’t want you to go, but I’m trying to be realistic. I’m trying to think ahead for both of us. Even if our friendship continues to grow into more, well, it seems a little unfeasible, don’t you think, because of where we’ve chosen to live? How would it work? It wouldn’t be like living across town or even across the state of Texas to date. We’ll be on opposite sides of the planet. Maybe we need to talk about that.”

  Marcus was breaking things off without giving it a chance—without giving us a chance? I felt pain, a sharp pain in my chest, since the tie he’d just severed had already been attached to my heart. A sudden indignation pushed away any rational replies, and I blurted out, “You’re right. You should go.” I nodded with vigor and crossed my arms. “Yes, you should go. Now.”

  Marcus winced.

  “Why do you look wounded? You’ve stated your case, and it’s a good one. I’ve had similar questions, so I know how you feel. I don’t see how any more talk will help or change our circumstances. You’re right. We have no chance at all. It’s an impossible situation with us being on opposite sides of the world.”

  Marcus stared at me. “Okay.”

  My stomach turned sour, and the ache was much worse than my fear of flying.

  “Well then, I guess I’ll say good night.” Marcus paused, and when I didn’t uncross my arms or soften my pursed lips he slowly turned to go.

  “Goodbye.” My voice cracked, but I stood straight. “You are such a Leroy,” I murmured without censoring myself.

  He whipped back around, facing me. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘You’re such a Leroy.’ You know, from the book What the Buffalo Left Behind.”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of familiar, since I wrote it. So, what do you mean? Are you calling me a coward?”

  “Yes, I am. I loved that buffalo character. But before Leroy found his courage he spent way too much time thinking with his head and not his heart. So much so, he forgot how to live. What happened to all your courage, Marcus? All that bagpipe bravado you had when you first sat down next to me on that park bench? I know you said you were trying to repel me and attract me at the same time. I get that part, but why were you trying to attract me at all if you weren’t willing to follow through if something happened? If I’m not mistaken here … something happened.”

  I cringed at my boldness, but I felt compelled to continue, since I wasn’t ever going to see him again anyway. I would make my case. “I repeat. You’re just like Leroy … only without all the hide and burly brown fur … and hooves and stuff.” My speech went the way of silliness, but I held my ground and raised my chin.

  Marcus grinned at me.

  I frowned.

  He grinned bigger.

  “What are you looking at? I demand to know what you’re thinking, if you don’t mind. Please?” I mouthed.

  “I was just waiting,” he said. “With the way you have your cheeks puffed up like that, I assumed you had more to say.”

  “I guess I do. Listen, you made me care about you. There’s something going on here, between us. Something that’s worth pursuing. But if you pull a Leroy, then it’s going to keep you from living … from knowing about us. What could have been. Maybe. Don’t you think?”

  Marcus just stood there. Say something! I’m dying here. I wasn’t going to humiliate myself further. “Excuse me, but I’m totally drained, and my knee suddenly feels like it’s been tenderized with a meat hammer. I’m going to bed.” I strode away from him. Tears burned my eyes. But before I’d made it to the elevator button I heard someone striding up behind me. Please let it be him.

  Marcus touched my shoulder, and I stopped my striding. He turned me around and held me by my shoulders. He didn’t search my eyes or wait for a nod, he just took my face into his palms and kissed me. And what a kiss. It was the Pulitzer Prize of kisses. The Taj Mahal. It was the summit experience—that crazy-flapping, victorious flag at the peak of Mount Everest. It was the kind of kiss one should remember always, should place in a shadowbox—if that were possible—to dream and sigh over in one’s old age. Mmm. I reached up and curled my arms around his neck and made sure he understood how glad I was to see him come back to me. When we eased apart I said to him, “I guess this means something. Right?”

  “Yes. It means you can stop calling me Leroy.”

  I threw my head back, laughing. “But what about the whole opposite-sides-of-the-planet thing?”

  “We’ll take it one day at a time, Love.”

  I tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “I can’t believe we’ve only known each other for two days.”

  “Well, some people only need two minutes.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “But what about Camille?” he asked. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible, but I also don’t want you to have regrets by losing your focus.”

  “I will find time for both of you. I promise.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “That’s a very good promise and one I will hold you to.”

  I hooked my finger into the pocket of his jacket and gave it a tug. “Were you really walking away for good just now? You know, forever and ever?”

  “What you didn’t know was that I wouldn’t have made it to the street before I would have marched back in here to tell you what a buffoon I was for making such a speech.”

  “I’m sorry I called you a Leroy. It was cruel.”

  “Yes, it was cruel. I may never recover.” He grinned. “But that’s okay … since the moment I laid eyes on you I thought you were a Zelda.”

  “No, not Zelda. Anyone but her.” I raised my brow in pretend outrage. “She’s a bald ostrich.”

  “Well, you’re Zelda without the skinny neck and feathers and big webbed feet.”<
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  “Guess I deserved that.”

  “Yes.” Marcus kissed the tip of my nose. “But Zelda also has a heart of gold.”

  In spite of my throbbing knee, in spite of the concerns that my sister might not show for our next outing, and in spite of my latest encounter with Marcus, sleep came as softly to me as a baby’s touch. In fact, I welcomed sleep with open arms and fell into dreaming of Marcus’s kiss—our shadowbox kiss.

  The next day my more-than-a-friend—Marcus—took me on a whirl of activities around the city. That is, as many as my recovering knee could stand: Federation Square, an art museum, a train ride to the zoo. The zoo featured the most adorable kangaroos and an animal called a wombat, which looked just like a pillow with eyes. We munched on bubblegum-flavored fairy floss, which was really just the Aussie version of cotton candy. And then for lunch we went to an indigenous-themed restaurant, which was decorated with Aboriginal works of art. They had a couple of items on the menu—eel and emu—that I assumed I’d hate but didn’t. I could not have been more impressed with all there was to see and do inside and outside the city. Like Marcus, I now had a sweet spot for Melbourne.

  After we parted for the evening, I headed to the place by the river where my sister performed. She wasn’t there. I glanced all around, thinking I’d made a mistake with the spot or the time, but I knew I hadn’t. Maybe she was merely running late. In an effort to keep my worry-meter from pinging off the charts I strolled down the promenade, hoping to run into her.

  After a few minutes of walking, I spotted Camille. Relief flooded me. But something wasn’t right. She not only wasn’t performing, but she stood arguing with a man in front of the Crown Complex, next to one of the monolith-type structures that adorned the front. Was that the boyfriend she’d mentioned? I held back, not wanting to interrupt or even hear their argument, but the man’s sharp words pierced the air.

  “How could I have convinced myself that I loved you,” the man said. “Tell me.”

  Camille reached out to him. “I know you’re upset about being fired again, but you shouldn’t take it out—”

  He slapped her hand away. “How dare you bring that up. You know what? Before I go, I’m going to teach you a lesson.” The man—red-faced and muscles taut—yanked the instrument case from Camille’s hand.

  “Give it to me. You know it’s all I have left.”

  The man hurled Camille’s flute into the river below.

  “No!” Her voice shriveled into a whimper as the case splashed into the water. She swung at him.

  He caught her hand and spewed curses at her. Then he stormed off without even glancing back.

  Camille leaned over the railing, almost as if she were going to throw up, but coughed instead.

  At that same instant, a massive flame belched out of the top of one of the black towers. And then a mushroom cloud of gas, still burning, released into the air, reminding me of the clouds of fire when Dorothy dared approach the Wizard of Oz. Somewhere on the other side, tourists squealed, apparently stunned with astonishment and delight at the show.

  I reared back. Goodness me. Such an inferno. Even at that great distance, the heat prickled my flesh. Another black tower let loose with a plume of fire and then another and another until the whole row of pinnacles was ablaze. Camille paid no attention to the spectacle. She must have gotten used to the heat and fiery display.

  Camille, dear Camille. I’m so sorry. Should I comfort her, or would it frighten her to know I’d seen their argument? I couldn’t fake that kind of thing. I couldn’t look like I was just appearing and hadn’t seen the drama. My face would betray me right away, and I knew I couldn’t live with the lie. Oh, dear God in heaven, tell me what to do.

  I stood paralyzed, not wanting to move forward or go back. All the while, people were milling by, but giving her a wide berth. I finally decided to take a chance. Camille might bolt when she saw me, but she was my sister after all, and she needed me. I had to do something.

  I walked up to her. “Camille? May I help?”

  Camille looked at me, her face full of fear. “Lily?”

  She let me take her into my arms and rub her back just as I’d always done for Julie when she was distressed about something. “You don’t have to tell me what happened.”

  “I have no one else to tell.” She pulled away. “Jerald left me. After a year of dating. Of promises. Little whispers of such love and devotion. Now it’s over … just like that. Yeah. It’s over. He said I will never see him again.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I ran my hands down her arms and held her hands, which shivered at my touch. “So, you loved this man?”

  “Don’t look at me that way. I know what you’re thinking. That Jerald was a bad man. Yes, he did a terrible thing to me just now, destroying my flute, my music and part of my livelihood. But he was angry because I’d mentioned that he’d gotten fired. It was his weak spot, and I knew it.”

  I squeezed her hands, but I was certain I didn’t look convinced. How could I be? Camille spoke the wild talk of a woman whose love had blinded her from all common sense.

  Camille wiggled her hands out of my grasp. “I’m telling you the truth. He wasn’t always like this. He’s kind of a rough guy, and he could really throw a wobbly, but he’s had trouble holding down a job, and it’s made him feel like nothing. Like less of a man. I guess it sounds like an excuse, but he really was damaged emotionally by all the rejection.”

  “Most of us are damaged in some way, but we don’t destroy other people’s property in the process or destroy their livelihood. He could have just walked away.” I didn’t know the man, but I thought a good flogging would be in order. If Jerald could behave that way openly on the streets, I cringed to think how he might have abused Camille behind closed doors.

  “Honestly, I don’t know how Jerald will live now, without me, but I’m sure something will turn up.”

  Camille hadn’t heard a word I’d said. “You mean you were paying his way?” Oh, dear, please say you weren’t.

  “Worse than that.” She gazed out over the river. “I loaned Jerald some money, which he gambled away on the pokies. He was so …” Her voice trailed away in a hoarse murmur.

  How could my sister put up with such abuse, especially after what she’d already been through with her adoptive father? Humans were so frail, so vulnerable.

  “That was my only flute, and I can’t afford another one.”

  “Do you think you can get any of the money back from him? You know, so you can buy another one?”

  Camille released a bitter laugh. “No, I’ve seen the last of Jerald. That I know for sure.”

  I wanted to ask her how she’d gotten herself bound to such a worthless and iniquitous man. I wanted to know if she saw the pattern she was creating from her past. That she was choosing anguish out of some unhealthy desires. Perhaps she’d come to think of herself as deserving unhappiness and pain. I remained silent on the subject—for now. “Do you need any money? I could get some through one of the ATMs.”

  Camille shook her head. “I won’t do that to you. Fortunately, I still have my daytime job. I work at a small grocery store. I can get by. And eventually I’ll be able to buy another flute.”

  If sadness could melt a heart, then mine had become a little pool. Not just for my sister’s loss, but for what she couldn’t see. She didn’t seem to recognize the strong connection between her choices and her unhappiness. “I wish I could do something. I feel useless.”

  “You could buy me a cuppa. Or maybe a cappuccino with extra foam.” She tried on a weak smile. “We have the best in the world here.”

  “Let’s do it. It’ll keep me awake half the night, but then so will what happened to you today.”

  “I’m sorry about that. But for now, let’s have that coffee. We can eat later.” Camille reached over to me and zipped up my jacket. “You always look like you’re shivering.”

  “I’m used to lots of heat in Houston, so yeah, I’m freezing.”

&nbs
p; “Spring is almost here, Lily.”

  I hoped that was true in a number of ways.

  When we were cozy with our cappuccinos in one of the local coffee shops, I hovered my spoon over the cup, not wanting to mess up the creamy heart design on the top of the foam. “I hate to stir or take a sip. It’s so pretty. And I like the fact that they give it to us in porcelain cups, not to-go mugs.”

  “That’s because we take our coffee seriously here, and you shouldn’t drink cappuccino out of paper cups unless you absolutely have to.”

  I took a sip, letting myself slurp it. “Oh, wow.” I slapped the table. “Best cappuccino I’ve ever had.” I licked at and then daubed at the foamy mustache with my napkin.

  “See? The best.” Camille suddenly coughed, which turned into quite a bout. She took several quick sips of her coffee. Her shoulders relaxed, but her cup made a clattery landing on the saucer when she set it down.

  “You okay?”

  “Not really.” Camille stared into her cup.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but what exactly are your health issues? I noticed your cough when we first met on the street.”

  “I’ve never known what was wrong. The doctors don’t know either. It seems I’ve always been ailing with something, just like when I was little. I guess I never outgrew that sickly nature.”

  “Do you think it could be—”

  “Listen, Lily, I need to ask you something.”

  Sounded serious. I took a deep sip of my coffee. “Okay. Anything at all.”

  “As you already know, I expected Jerald to propose. He won’t now. Obviously. But with that loss goes some of my hope for making a family here. As old as I am and with my health issues I wasn’t expecting to ever have a baby. But I’d hoped to adopt a little girl someday, although I don’t know when that will be. Maybe it’s just a pipe dream too. But now without Jerald, I have no one. Nothing. I’m like a ship bobbling around, lost at sea.”

  “You don’t have any friends?”

  “I did, but my best friend, Samantha, moved to America a few months ago. I thought we’d stay close. I hoped so anyway, but it didn’t work. We emailed and texted for a while, but now I never hear from her. It was just too much I guess. She moved on, made new friends there.”