by Mary Akers
Elora’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Elora,” he said reproachfully, shaking his head.
“Preacher,” she replied, with an apologetic smile.
“We were just planning how to set up the courtyard for the ceremony!” Alysa told him exuberantly, attempting to draw attention away from her friend. “It’s going to be lovely!”
“Are you sure you want to have it here? There are no bees, I can assure you, but it’s been very neglected Alysa,” he replied with concern.
“Oh, Elora can make it happen! I have faith,” she said, wrapping an arm around Elora’s shoulders.
“For that kind of miracle, perhaps you should be sitting in the front row, Ms. Kerrick,” Preacher Woodward remarked, chuckling at his own joke before turning to welcome another congregant.
Elora laughed good-naturedly as they walked into the church before turning to Alysa with a mortified expression on her face.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she moaned, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks.
Alysa giggled and hugged her affectionately.
“You do keep life interesting, Elora,” she teased.
“So, wait, do we have to sit in front?” Trig asked.
The three friends looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“You two decide. I’m going to be hiding in the outhouse,” Elora joked.
They opted to sit on a bench in the middle and took their seats as the rest of the congregation started filing in.
“Are you saving some seats for your parents?” Alysa asked looking around at the quickly filling rows. “It looks like there will be a crowd today.”
“Oh, I seriously doubt they’re going to be here,” Trig chimed in and Elora looked over in surprise. “I had the sunrise shift guarding the wall and saw them leaving out of the East Gate at first light,” he mentioned casually while making googly eyes at the toddler seated in front of him.
Elora stared at him in shock and confusion. They had left Windom? Her parents had always been so adamant about staying within the town walls. What were they doing? How many more secrets were they keeping from her? She shook her head in disappointment and looked off out the church window as she tried to gather her thoughts.
“Did you not know?” Alysa asked, sensing her displeasure at the news.
“They left me a note about errands, so I kind of knew,” Elora said, cocking her head to the side. “But I didn’t know how big an errand it was. There’s no way they will be around to help out today.”
“It’ll be okay. Trig and I can help. I bet I can even talk my dad into pitching in,” Alysa said encouragingly.
Elora smiled in return. But then Preacher Woodward caught her eye as he walked past their bench on his way to the front of the church and her embarassment was inflamed anew. She blushed and gave him a halfhearted little wave. He shook his head in amusement and continued on to the pulpit where he opened the service with a prayer about worshiping with eagerness and enthusiasm.
“…Let us come to You with passion, ever seeking a front row seat in Your house.”
Elora’s mouth fell open and she looked over to see Alysa and Trig struggling to stifle their laughter. She sighed, closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that Preacher Woodward wouldn’t torment her forever. Hearing a collective creaking of the benches as the congregation stood, Elora opened her eyes and rose. She joined in as they began to sing a familiar hymn and fell comfortably into the habit and ritual of the church service.
Her mind soon wandered back to her parents and their persistent secrecy. She’d lived with it her whole life, but it no longer seemed bearable. She felt completely betrayed by them. But then again, had they really betrayed her? They wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. They were her parents and loved her more than anyone. They only ever acted in her best interest. Surely they had a good reason for keeping her in the dark. She recalled the way her mother had sobbed yesterday and she shuddered. Perhaps the dark was a good place to be.
“I don’t think he’s ever going to stop talking,” Trig leaned over to whisper.
Snapped out of her thoughts, Elora chuckled and looked up to see Preacher Woodward pacing back and forth on the altar, delivering an exuberant but utterly boring sermon.
“Hush! That man has ears like a bat” she warned. “And you’re sitting next to me. I don’t need any more of his attention this morning.”
Trig elbowed her good naturedly and then gave a huge sigh of relief as Preacher Woodward finally raised his arms to indicate they should stand for the closing hymn. But before leading them in song he held up his finger to make an announcement.
“It will be my honor to preside over the Binding of our dear Alysa Scott and Trig Davenport next Saturday afternoon. Let us all come to share in their joy. The ceremony will be conducted in the church courtyard at 10 o’clock next Saturday,” he said, gesturing toward the courtyard.
There was a murmur among the congregation as people looked at one another, some shaking their heads. The word “Bees” was buzzing in the air like the insect itself.
“There are no bees,” he stated emphatically, his annoyance obvious.
Elora leaned over to make eye contact with Alysa.
“Exactly how bad was this bee incident?” she exclaimed in a whisper.
Alysa gave a small smile and shrugged, turning her gaze back toward the preacher as the opening notes of the hymn rang out.
The day was hot and humid. Elora, Alysa and Trig worked diligently in the courtyard, mowing, weeding and trimming the unruly vegetation. Though they started in good cheer, with laughter and lively conversation, after a few hours in the sweltering heat they were exhausted and nothing seemed quite as funny anymore.
“I don’t think I can pull one more weed,” cried Alysa, collapsing onto one of the old wooden benches that radiated from the center of the courtyard.. “How do you do this every day, Elora?” she asked as she wiped the sweat from her neck.
Elora was on her knees, elbow deep in dirt as she uprooted a dead shrub.
“You get used to it,” she said, sitting back on her feet as she wiped her arm across her brow.
She rose and turned back to grab the dead bush she’d just dug up before dragging it to the back of the courtyard and chucking it over the stone fence. Trig had promised to come by later in the week to take care of all the weeds and clippings that they’d piled up back there today. She walked over to lean against the desert willow near Alysa.
“It is particularly hot and miserable today though,” Elora admitted.
“Does that mean you won’t judge us if we call it quits?” Trig asked, collapsing onto the bench next to Alysa.
“I’ve been judging you all day, Trig Davenport,” retorted Elora jokingly.
“Ordinarily I would have a witty response to that, but I’m just too tired,” he replied.
Elora looked around at their progress and smiled. The desert willow had been pruned, the dead bushes had been removed, and the flowerbeds were mostly cleared of weeds. The tall grasses had been cut back, revealing rows of rustic benches in a semi-circle surrounding a trellis beneath which they would conduct the ceremony. It was hardly recognizable as the same space they had entered that morning.
“We did a lot today!” she exclaimed. “I’m feeling really optimistic!”
“Really?” asked Alysa, surveying their handiwork. “It does look a lot neater, but it’s still a far cry from what I’d envisioned.”
“Yes, really,” Elora nodded. “I can definitely get the rest of this weeded by tomorrow. And then I’ll start transplanting some of my mother’s flowers from our yard.”
“Too bad we can’t move that gorgeous rosebush,” Alysa lamented again.
“I’ve actually seen quite a few rosebushes in here that might put out a few blooms now that they aren’t being strangled by vines.
Who knows? I do have a fairly green thumb,” Elora said encouragingly.
“So, what you’re saying is that we can leave?” asked Trig hopefully.
“Yes,” Elora said laughing. “I can take it from here.”
“Are you really sure?” Alysa asked skeptically.
“What are you doing, woman?” Trig cried, jumping up with renewed vigor and grabbing Alysa by the hand. “We are nearly free! Don’t question it!”
“I’m sure!” Elora shouted, laughing as Trig dragged Alysa toward the courtyard gate.
“You are the best!” exclaimed Alysa. “The absolute best! Thank you!”
“Yep! The best!” agreed Trig, walking backwards for a few strides so he could give Elora a wink and a smile before turning and hurrying though the gate.
Once they were out of view, Elora plopped down onto the bench and sighed. It really was hot and her energy was sapped too. She reached up to rub a kink from the back of her neck and in doing so felt the chain from her necklace.
She tucked her fingers beneath the chain and lifted the necklace from beneath her tunic. The tiny silver fibers in the seed glinted in the bright sunlight. She looked around cautiously to make sure she was unobserved. Confident that she was alone, Elora walked over to one of the spindly, barren rosebushes she’d found smothered in weeds earlier that day. Reaching out, she touched one of the thorny branches.
She thought back to the lavender plant in her bedroom. Just remembering the feelings of being scared hadn’t worked. Her ability only seemed to be triggered by a genuine emotional reaction. She needed to focus on something unsettling.
She immediately thought of her parents. Where had they gone today? They were keeping secrets. They had lied to her. But they loved her. Perhaps they were protecting her. She was confused, angry, frightened. But she still loved them more than anything. She felt a lump rise up in her throat and tears prick her eyes.
Her fingertips began to tingle and through the blur of her tears, she saw splotches of yellow burst forth from the branches of the rose bush. She quickly swiped her hand across her eyes to clear her vision and stepped back in awe. She’d done it! The rosebush was suddenly awash in colorful blooms.
“Incredible,” she whispered.
Walking to the next rosebush, she reached out her hand and closed her eyes. This time she summoned an image of her best friend standing beside Trig, their arms wrapped in the binding cord, their eyes locked on one another, joy radiating from them like beams of sunshine. Her chest swelled in happiness and she felt a gentle hum flow through her fingers. She opened her eyes to find the rosebush aflame with red blooms.
She moved back to the bench and sat down to consider her work. The rosebushes were gorgeous. They were shockingly beautiful, particularly amongst the drab and bare landscaping of the courtyard. She could make this place beautiful. She could give her friend the breathtaking event she’d dreamed of for her entire life. But it would draw attention to herself. Would people believe that a simple “green thumb” had allowed her to create a botanical masterpiece from an overgrown disaster in only a week? She might be revealing her secret if she did this. But then, did she want to live her life keeping such a secret?
She walked back to one of the unfinished flowerbeds and pulled on her gloves, digging her hands into the earth to pull up the weeds by the roots. A smile played on her lips as she worked. Visions danced in her eyes of the courtyard overflowing with flowers; of Trig and Alysa pledging their vows to one another, enveloped in the beauty of a thousand blooms. She would do this for Alysa. She would do this for herself. She didn’t like secrets.
Chapter 7
Elora walked home from the courtyard five days later on the eve of the ceremony. Her emotions were waffling on a razor’s edge. She was torn between feelings of euphoria and panic. As she approached the rosebush that had been her awakening, she paused to gather her thoughts and calm her fears.
The courtyard was stunning. She’d worked there for hours each evening all week after completing her harvest labor in the fields. She had asked for privacy, calling it her “gift” to the newly bound couple. Everyone had willingly complied, as they were busily preparing for the ceremony themselves. A “No Entrance” sign had been posted at the gate and since the courtyard had long since been abandoned anyway, no one had bothered her. She’d been free to work and experiment in solitude. And she hadn’t wasted a moment.
In the hours spent cultivating the courtyard, she had honed her ability. It was no longer a struggle to summon the intensity that was necessary to awaken her gift. She’d discovered that her powers didn’t require as much a heightened emotional response, as just a deep and singular focus. Although when that deep focus resulted in an emotional response, her ability became incredibly powerful. It hadn’t take very long for Elora to discover that thinking of one thing, one person in particular was the most effective in bringing her ability to life. A man she’d never seen but somehow felt connected to intimately.
She’d spent the past 5 days reliving every vision she’d had of him. Her stomach still flipped as she remembered what it was like hearing his footsteps as he approached her for the first time. Her skin tingled at the memory of his touch. The memory of his voice stole her breath every time. Her heart clenched as she recalled his words over and over again.
“Wait for me, Elora.”
She felt foolish to have such a response to something that possibly, probably, wasn’t real. But seeing the plants burst forth from the earth and explode into color around her, it hadn’t seemed so foolish after all. This was not the world she’d thought she had been living in her entire life. Anything was possible anymore. And oh, how she prayed that he was real, that he was coming for her, that he would be hers. Her hope was in every seedling, her heart in every bloom. The courtyard was a love song to the man in her dreams. And it was magnificent.
In fact, it was conspicuously magnificent. People would talk. Summer was at its end and fall was just around the corner. Most of the flowers had long since withered in Windom. Except in the courtyard. The courtyard which had been abandoned and neglected until only a few days ago. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous. And people would talk. There would be no turning back after tomorrow.
Elora took a deep calming breath and shook her head. This gift was a part of her now. It gave her meaning. It gave her purpose. It made her feel alive. Whatever would happen tomorrow, whatever people may say or think of her, she would not regret using her ability. She had spent her whole life hiding, avoiding attention, shunning the limelight. But she was done with that. To hide her talent would be shameful. She had no intention of shouting about it from the rooftops, but she could not hide it. She would not deny her gift.
She stepped back from the rosebush and turned to continue walking home, but paused as she suddenly had a thought. Reaching out to touch a barren stem on the bush, she closed her eyes and called up the memory of his hand in hers. The now familiar tingling sensation began coursing through her fingers. And then suddenly there was a cool breeze and the feel of his skin was no longer memory. She felt him next to her, his arm brushing against her. He gently slid his hand into hers. She gasped as their fingers intertwined. She was afraid to move, afraid to breathe lest the moment would end. How she wished this would last forever. And yet, it couldn’t.
She slowly opened her eyes and he was gone. Before her on the once barren branch was a rose; a vibrant, gorgeous bloom; her love in a flower. She turned and walked slowly down the road, smiling at the thought of Trig stopping on his way to the church in the morning to pluck that flower. The flower that Alysa would wear in her hair.
As she neared her home, Elora was startled to see a man leaving through the front gate. In the fading daylight it was difficult to see him clearly, but he was tall and trim. His hair reached past his shoulders and was tied back at the nape of his neck. His features were concealed by the brim of a hat and the pa
rts of his face that were visible were hidden beneath a thick beard. He seemed to falter momentarily at the sight of her but recovered quickly. Elora’s curiosity overwhelmed any semblance of manners and she openly stared as he walked by, subtly nodding his head in acknowledgement as he passed her.
“Elora!”
Her father calling from the doorway jolted her out of her stupor.
“I feel as though I haven’t seen you all week!” he exclaimed.
It was true. She hadn’t spent more than a few minutes with her parents in the past 5 days. The avoidance had been intentional on her part however. She thought perhaps it had been on purpose for her parents as well, but she couldn’t be sure. In spite of everything though, she had missed them.
Elora quickly closed the distance remaining between them and gave him a hug.
“Well, I’m not sure you actually have seen me,” she said. “You all came home so late on Sunday and I’ve been working every spare minute in the courtyard.”
“I know. Your mother and I have been busy too. Work is always hectic this time of year. But I am so looking forward to the ceremony tomorrow. I’m sure everything will be beautiful, sweetheart,” he said. “Especially you.”
“Alysa has made me quite the dress, so you just may be right,” Elora laughed.
“You would be beautiful in a potato sack, Elora,” Jonas Kerrick said, shaking his head.
“Said like a true father,” she replied, hugging him once more.
“Are you hungry, honey?” her mother asked, coming around the counter to enfold her in a hug as well.
She was actually famished. She hadn’t been home in time for dinner all week and her stomach growled audibly at the smell of a warm, home-cooked meal.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” her mother laughed, patting Elora’s rumbling belly before turning to make her a plate of supper.
Elora bent to take off her work boots by the door.
