Blossoming Flower (Wildflowers Book 1)

by Vivian Winslow

  “Anything else?” she hears Eddie ask.

  “You seen Collin?”

  Collin?

  “Why you looking for him?” His eyes dart from Flor back to Suzann.

  “Why do you keep looking over . . . ?” Suzann quickly looks over in Flor’s direction. “Ah, I see,” she says, pointing. “Is she your girl?”

  Eddie lifts off his baseball cap and runs his hand over his slick, black hair. “Nah, she’s my cousin.”

  “Cousin? Honey, I’ve met all your cousins. None of them are that pretty.”

  “From my Dad’s side down in Laredo,” he says, making up a story as he goes along. “She came up here for the summer to learn English.”

  “Oh, isn’t that sweet.” Suzann waves at Flor as if saying hello to a five-year-old. “Welcome to California,” she says slowly, pronouncing every syllable with painstaking effort.

  “Que?” Flor replies, taking a cue from the waitress who’d remained mute. Nothing could possibly be gained by engaging in any conversation with this woman.

  Suzann turns back to Eddie and says, “I don’t think you’re doing a very good job teaching your cousin English.”

  “Must be all those telenovelas she watches with my mom.”

  “Maybe introduce her to some American shows, like CSI or something. God knows they’re probably way better than what they get down where you’re from. No offense or anything.” She touches his chest.

  “We’re really busy right now, Suzann. Maybe you can come back later.”

  “If it’s not obvious, I’m busy too. Being a single mom and a business owner is hard work. I don’t have family like you to help, Eddie.” Her attempt at eliciting pity from Eddie fails.

  That’s when Flor places her. She was the one at the farmer’s market who smiled at Collin. It had been at that precise moment that his mood was completely altered and he wanted to leave. And she’d had a boy with her. What was he? Two? Three?

  “What do you want with Collin?”

  “He came by the shop earlier. God, it’s like he’s stalking me the way he’s been calling and texting since last night.”

  Last night? Before . . . After . . .?

  Flor puts down the taco, suddenly losing her appetite.

  “I highly doubt he’s stalking you, Suzann.”

  “Just listen to you. Admit it, Eddie. You were always a little jealous of Collin and me.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Don’t you remember? One night we all got drunk and you told me that if I dumped Collin you’d show me why Mexicans make the best lovers.” Suzann’s laugh is high-pitched.

  Collin and Suzann? He dated the lollipop?

  “Guess we know who got the better end of that deal,” Eddie says, his tone curt. “Look, it’s great seeing you, but I have a business to run, just like you.” He puts his hand on her lower back and begins to guide her toward the door.

  She ignores his cues and keeps going. “But remember, I told you I couldn’t because one day me and Collin would be married.”

  Flor doesn’t move. She fixes her gaze on a map of colonial Mexico hanging on the far wall. She can feel Eddie looking at her, trying to determine if she’d heard.

  “That was a long time ago,” he says quietly, “Things change, Suzann. People change. You of all people should know that.”

  “Yeah,” she concedes. “But not Collin. He wants to think he has, but I think he’s the same guy I married. Just as persistent as ever.”

  Flor can’t hide the tears. She gets off her stool, ready to rush out, not realizing that Suzann and Eddie are standing in front of the door.

  “Flor, don’t leave,” he tells her.

  “I have to go,” she replies, pushing past him.

  “I thought you said she doesn’t speak English?” Flor hears Suzann ask Eddie as the door slams behind her.

  She rushes around the corner to the parking lot filled with cars whose owners are doing their weekend shopping in town. Flor takes shelter in the shade between the brick wall and a dusty black Dodge truck, tears flowing steadily.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t be this emotional, but she can’t help it, or doesn’t want to. The past few weeks with Collin have been fun and exciting and, most of all, brought her all sorts of feelings that she’d never experienced before. It’s catharsis she assures herself. She hadn’t really allowed herself a good cry in a long time. The last time was at her grandfather’s funeral. Flor was young, but not too young to understand the loss of someone she loved deeply. Since then, loss had punctuated what would otherwise have been the ordinary life of a girl born into an extraordinarily rich family. Loss of a loved one, of her circle of friends, of her parents to divorce, of money which meant a loss of security and a sense of her future. So much loss for someone so young. She wipes away her tears. Her throat hurts as she attempts to suppress the rest of her pain and stop crying.

  Flor isn’t comfortable feeling sorry for herself. She’s always known it could be worse—a lot worse. Yet, it’s all she wants to feel in this moment, asking herself, why her? Can’t she at least have one good thing in her life? The answer seems to be no. Every. Single. Time.

  Maybe she could overlook his previous choice in girlfriends. Maybe not everyone would regard Enrico so highly either, although he had far better manners than that woman.

  But married? Married!? To her?! This, Flor can’t begin comprehend. But he didn’t say anything about a break-up. Could he still be married to that caricature of a woman?

  Of course he’s married, she hears herself say out loud. That explains everything, the night in the motel, his attempt at keeping some distance between them, the hesitation in his kiss and in his touch and why he’d leave when they were so close. So close.

  “Collin’s married,” she mumbles. This really can’t be happening. And Eddie knew but made every effort to push Collin and Flor together. The idea that she’d fallen for a married guy makes her cringe. She had judged her father harshly for his many affairs. Is this what Paco had been warning her about that night when he suggested her naiveté would cause trouble for her?

  Flor buries her face in her hands trying to wish herself back in the womb of the house at Belo Horizonte, although now it contains the memory of Collin. Maybe it’s time to face the fact that she can’t hide anymore and this is the universe’s cruel way of reminding that the more you hide, the more life will force you out of the shadows.

  Flor draws herself up slowly and brushes the dirt off the seat of her jeans. As she makes her way down the street to the meeting point where Luis had said he’d pick her up, all she can think about is how quickly she can pack and leave town.

  “Flor! I’ve been calling you for the past hour,” Gary says, approaching her at the gate of the ranch.

  She lowers the window, not noticing or caring that it’s nearing a hundred degrees. “The ringer must’ve been off,” she mumbles, unable to look directly at Gary. Clearly he knows about Collin and Suzann. Is that why he was reluctant to have her work with his son? Not once did Gary or Marjorie mention Collin’s relationship to that woman and of all the family photos in their home not one included her.

  Gary opens the door, and Flor slides toward the middle of the seat to give him room. He waves a hand toward the road to indicate that Luis should continue forward. Then he turns to Flor and says, “Your father is here.”

  Chapter 37

  “M-my father?” Flor asks. “I’m sorry, Gary, you must be mistaken.” Her eyes widen in shock. As if she could stand anymore surprises today.

  “I’m afraid not, dear.”

  “No, really Gary. It’s not possible. He’s . . . ,” Flor hesitates. The heaviness in her chest has returned.

  She takes a deep breath. “Gary, my father is down in Brazil. He isn’t allowed to leave the country. This must be some kind of mistake.” Her heart is in her stomach by now. Just thinking about seeing him again is causing her anxiety. He can’t possibly be here. And why would he show up out of the blue like this.<
br />
  Gary places a warm hand on her shoulder. “Flor, honey. Your father, Gustavo de Lima, is waiting for you at the house.”

  She looks out the windshield and sees a large SUV parked out front. She mutters a silent prayer, or profanity depending on who you ask. The tears want to come, but they don’t. The mix of emotions is too great to isolate them. The anger and hurt are on the surface, but just below them are sadness and disappointment. It becomes more complex and confusing as she tries to get a handle on what exactly she’s feeling. Ironically, love seems to be at the center of it. She does love him. It’s the one emotion she’s always felt when she’s thought of her father. Yet, it’s been buried by so many other feelings that she can’t and doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Not yet at least.

  Her stomach churns, the anxiety increasing exponentially. She vowed after her visit to the fazenda the previous summer that the next time she’d see her father would be on her terms. It was a terrible visit and one she didn’t want repeated. His then girlfriend, or maybe current since Flor hasn’t bothered to keep track, never left his side. She couldn’t have a single moment or meal with him alone. While perhaps she could’ve accepted sharing him, the woman was vapid and clingy, competing with Flor for her father’s attention. And Flor, who didn’t want to admit it but was keeping score, noted that the woman won, and it seemed her father was ambivalent to their interaction. This semi-professional modelo played into every female stereotype that many Brazilian men seem to adore—compliant, complacent and above all, beautiful.

  It embarrassed Flor that her father would compromise his standards in that way, ending up with someone even more shallow than her own mother. She was ashamed to think that he was so incapable of being on his own that he’d accept the company of that woman over the alternative. It was worse than merely accepting his ruined empire. That, she could’ve accepted if he had turned his life around somehow and pursued a deeper, more fulfilling life’s purpose, pursuing redemption as opposed to a hollow pussy. How far he’d fallen in her eyes then.

  To some extent it forced Flor to sympathize with her mother. How could she not have resorted to the level of narcissism and selfishness given how threatened she must’ve felt? Although Flor still can’t forgive how her mother would willingly take so much money from her, justifying it by telling her at least she was still young enough to marry rich—just as she had when she was Flor’s age. Her mother had come from a family with means, although not nearly as much as Flor’s father. As a traditional Brazilian woman, she had done what was expected, attending a second-tier university in Rio, biding her time until a semi-arranged marriage fell into her lap. Marrying a de Lima was viewed as a coup by the Campos whose status was augmented by the pairing. At least her parents didn’t expect the same for Flor or her brother Felipe. They both wanted more for their children and saw that the answer rested in educating them outside of their small world in Rio.

  Flor looks over at Gary. “You know who my father is, don’t you? You’ve known all this time?” Which means Collin knew too.

  He nods. “I was instructed to keep it confidential.”

  “How confidential?” She asks.

  He responds with a look, as if to say, very.

  Luis puts the truck into Park, and Gary opens the door before she can interrogate him further.

  “He’s been in there for about an hour. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

  Chapter 38

  “I can’t believe how much this place has changed.” Suzann runs her fingertips along the smooth wood of the stalls. Collin winces at the scratching sound of her nails.

  “What are you doing here?” Collin removes his gloves and tucks them into a back pocket. “How’d you even get onto the grounds?”

  Suzann grins coyly, like it’s a secret she won’t tell. Finally she says, “I followed a truck through the gates. Seems no one noticed. So much for that fabulous security system your father was so proud of.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure you could find your way around barbed wire if you put your mind to it.”

  Suzann smiles. Of course, her profound need for affirmation would allow her to take that as a compliment.

  “This place is fancy,” she says, walking past a few stalls before turning around. “I could see how you’d like working at a place like this.”

  “A ranch is a ranch, Suzann. It’s still the same work. It doesn’t matter if the stalls are made of walnut or beechwood.”

  The blond holds up her hands and looks up at the high ceilings with wrought iron chandeliers. “But the details are really classy. Like something out of a magazine.”

  Collin notices a stable groom eyeing Suzann as he passes them. “Look, Suzann, I have a lot to do, so do me a favor and tell me why you’re here.”

  She gives him a catlike smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess you can say I was feeling a little nostalgic after our talk this morning.”

  The cowboy scoffs. “You came here to talk about old times?”

  She crosses her arms, throws back her head and laughs. “It’s not as if it was that long ago.” Suzann takes a step toward Collin who’s leaning against the wall. He sidesteps to avoid her.

  “We’re different from the kids we were in high school.” He finally notices she’s changed her clothes. The simple, blue cotton summer dress has been replaced by a thin, white shirtdress and tall wedges. No wonder the stable groom noticed her.

  “But things didn’t end there, did they? We still had fun when you’d come home.”

  “Your attempts at seduction usually only worked with alcohol,” Collin replies, knowing his words will hurt. But he just wants her gone.

  Suzann smiles almost too quickly. Collin was right. “In any case, seeing you this morning got me thinking, what if we try again. I mean we’re both older, like you said. A bit wiser . . . .” She walks toward him.

  This time he doesn’t move. He waits until she’s inches away from him. She reaches out to grip the seams on the side of his shirt and leans in. The sticky sweet scent of her lilac and jasmine perfume fills his nostrils. Collin leans down and whispers. “You’re right. I’m wiser now. The only way you could ever have me was with your lies, Suzann. I won’t let that happen again.” He gently pushes her away and heads for the paddock, still smelling her perfume.

  “It can be different this time, Collin. You and I both know it. Whatever you have with that Flor girl won’t work. You and me belong together.”

  Collin spins around. “Who told you about Flor?”

  Suzann smiles victoriously. So it was that tramp in Eddie’s restaurant. Could she be Eddie’s cousin? The girl was attractive, if you like really tall women. Perhaps that’s why Collin likes her. But I’m just as pretty, Suzann thinks to herself. She shakes away the looming insecurities and smiles even bigger.

  “Secrets don’t stay secrets for long. You oughta know that,” she says, her tone condescending.

  “You would know better than anyone else,” Collin retorts, fuming over this revelation. Flor was his secret, a precious one at that. Leave it to Suzann to try to ruin it.

  “She’s not from around here. You think she’s gonna stay for long?”

  “Why? You promise to wait for me?” Collin gathers up a rope around his arm before hanging it outside a stall.

  “We could give it three years and see.” Suzann winks. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the divorce papers. “I wouldn’t mind tearing these up right now if you think you might want to try again.”

  Collin doesn’t move. He watches her quietly knowing how much she doesn’t enjoy his silence. How badly he wants to punish her for her lies, her constant manipulation. Instead, he waits, opting for the minimum amount of damage possible.

  She juts out a hip and places a hand on it, unsure of what to say. Her attempts at drawing him back to her have failed. Suzann is smart enough to realize it. But what if . . . she reaches up and unbuttons her dress to show her cleavage. She’s not above getting naked if it gets her what she wan
ts.

  “It won’t work,” he warns. It had before though. God, he had loved that body of hers. Her breasts were so round and perfect. She was the most beautiful and desirable girl when they were in high school. He felt fortunate when she chose him. Collin had lost his virginity unceremoniously at the age of fourteen to another virgin. He was grateful she didn’t laugh when he lasted only a minute. So when Suzann graciously chose him to be her boyfriend, she had taken it upon herself to show him precisely how to please a girl like her. He was smart enough not to ask exactly how she came into what he’d considered profound knowledge of sex at the age of fifteen, but to reap the benefits of her experience.

  He had been caught up in her spell until he went to Berkeley and encountered a different breed of women. Naturally, he’d met a few Suzann’s, but there was also a Naomi from Portland who didn’t shave her pubic hair and would quote Dorothy Parker when they were making out. There was also a Lisa from Manhattan who taught him to appreciate good coffee, free trade products and how incredible her tongue piercing felt on his cock.

  It didn’t take long for Collin to outgrow Suzann, and she was astute enough to realize it when he came back home the summer after his first year in college. She didn’t take it well. Not so bad as to threaten self-harm, because she was too vain to really ever do that. No, it was more like claiming most of the guys he knew to make him jealous and send a message that she could have anyone she wanted. He didn’t even like her enough at that point to feel angry or bothered about it. However, a few years later, nostalgia mixed with a night of drinking was all it took for her to drag him back into her web.

  “Then tell me what will,” she pleads.

  Collin shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  “And if I burn the papers?” She waves them like a fan in front of her face.

  “That’s a copy. I mailed the real ones to the lawyer this morning.”

  Suzann’s jaw drops. She wraps her arms around herself as if she’d just been punched.