by Amelia Grace
I leaned over the order book and cupped my forehead. My brain was used to logical processes and procedures. This creative gig was a struggle. Hopefully it would only be for a few more days after the doctors sorted out Gram’s medical issue.
I crouched down to grab the florist tools from under the bench. As I reached over for the basket with the trimmers, shapers, wire, pins, floral tape and foam, I spied a book I had never seen before.
Fleur’s Book of Fantastical Flower Designs
I pulled it out and opened it. Inside were the names of flower arrangements Gram had designed, with hand-drawn illustrations and labels. I flicked backwards through the pages of watercolour and ink beauty before I hovered over the contents page:
Flowers for ~
1 Fabulous - an astounding collection of flowers for
life-long friends
2 Fairy - an eclectic mix of blooms for one who thinks they
belong to a different realm, and wants to enchant another
3 Faith - a gorgeous congregation of florets reflecting the
glory of heaven
4 Fake - for folk focussing on portraying someone
they’re not. I smell a rat!
5 Family - an assortment of flowers to impress
6 Fancy - like grandmother Lawrence’s underwear!
7 Fantasy - a bouquet of blooms for one who appears
in your dreams and fantasies
8 Farewell - a combination of blossoms that gladden
the heart of either the giver or the recipient - sad
to see you go ... glad to see you go
9 Fatality - a garland of blooms for death caused by
an accident - never nice to create
10 Favourite - a selection of flowers of the favourite
colours of a person preferred over all others ...
11 Fearful - a posy of yellow flowers as reverse psychology
12 Fearless - an anthology of bold blooms that scream
13 Felonious - stolen moments in life. A combination
of florets for one stealing another’s love interest - boo!
14 Fertile - a gathering of blooms to invoke sensuality
to set the mood for baby making - ooh la-la!
15 Fervour - a collection of passionate flowers for
those eager for “more”
16 Festivity - an arrangement of flowers for religious,
birthday and other celebrations
17 Fetus - a gathering of baby breath to celebrate conception
18 Fibber - a posy of florets to conceal a lie
19 Fierce - an assortment of blooms from a fiercely
protective (and perhaps controlling) partner
20 Fiery - a gathering of blossoms for forgiveness
after a bitter and somewhat vicious disagreement
21 Fighter - an arrangement of flowers for someone
fighting to keep their love
22 Finish - an anthology of buds to celebrate finishing
education, work, retirement, a race, a difficult journey
23 Firsts - a selection of blooms to celebrate firsts
24 Fissure - a collection of flowers to mend a fracture
in a marriage or partnership
25 Fix - a bouquet of florets to fix a broken heart, or a mistake
26 Fixation - a combination of blossoms to present
to a person you have an obsession with
27 Flame - a selection of flowers for that special
someone who still lights your fire - perhaps an ex?
28 Flatter - a gathering of blooms to make someone
feel special
29 Flaunt - an anthology of buds that shout of wealth
30 Fleur - a superb creation of peonies of course!
30 Fling - an assortment of flowers for a short affair
31 Flirty - a selection of blossoms to win a heart
32 Florimania - an insane collection of 100 blooms
for those who have a craze for flowers
33 Flossie - Roman Goddess of Flowers - say no more!
34 Folly - an arrangement of buds for someone who
has more money than sense - ka-ching!
35 Fondness - an assortment of flowers for someone
you like, really like!
36 Fool - a posy of blooms for someone who is an idiot!
37 Forbidden - a collection of buds that lure a lust interest
38 Foreplay - a combination of blossoms to encourage sex
39 Forget - a bouquet of flowers when you are in deep
trouble, or you want to forget the deep trouble
40 Forgiveness - an arrangement of blooms that
whisper words of “please forgive me”
41 Fornication - a collection of florets = sex
42 Fractured - flowers for broken bones ...
43 Fraud - an arrangement of blooms for a deceitful giver
44 Frazzled - an assortment of blossoms that release
an intoxicating fragrance that clouds the mind
45 Freed - a selection of 50 shades of flowers for the
soul who wants to cut ties or release chains
46 Friends - an anthology of buds that sing of love
and good times and memories never to be forgotten
47 Frivolous - a combination of trivial, silly flowers
for a superficial person
48 Fruitcake - a gathering of blooms for an eccentric
or mad person that balances their energy and calms
49 Funeral - a garland of delicate flowers for man, woman,
child, baby or pet - always heartbreaking to make
50 to be created
I raised my eyebrows. Forty-nine flower arrangements that started with the letter “f”, alphabetically. Who knew that Gram created magic from flowers every day in her floral boutique, then used them in mind persuasion with her customers’ recipients. She certainly did have some fancy blooms and successful working formulas as a floriculturist.
I placed the book of flower secrets onto the wooden workbench and started matching flower formulas to orders. I hoped Gram didn’t mind. Then I prioritized according to time of delivery. My work was mapped out for me this morning.
The shop was buzzing with business as soon as the doors opened at 8.30. Again, I noted that normal flower shops were never busy like this. It must have been the Tarrin factor of “more”. Or perhaps, it was the coffee and tea that invited people in.
I glanced up from the workbench every now and again to see how Lucy was coping at the sales desk. She was fabulous.
By 10.30am, the last of the orders went out the door to their destination. I cleaned up the workbench and slid Xander’s letter to the centre of the workspace. I flipped it over to open the seal, and my phone buzzed.
GRAMPS: Good news. No brain tumour.
Talk to you later. x x x
ME: <3 Answered prayer x x x Thank goodness.
I couldn’t stop smiling. I went over to Lucy and held the phone message up for her to read.
She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. ‘Now, get out of here for a thirty-minute break. I need to leave at eleven. I’ll call you if I need you! But I won’t.’
I ran my hands down my apron and looked around the busy flower shop.
‘Go, Andi! Everything will be fine.’
I nodded to her, removed my work apron and put it on the back of the chair at the workbench, then touched the top of my dress to check that my scar was covered. The envelope from Xander caught my eye. I flipped it over to unseal it.
‘Go, Andi! Before I chase you out of here with thorns from the roses!’ Lucy called.
I held my hands up at my cousin, pushed Xander’s letter to the side, grabbed Gram’s Book of Fantastical Flower Designs, then left Flowers for Fleur and headed out into the sunshine. Tarrin’s sunshine of more.
The central park was across the road, and the black, wrought iron park bench under the ancient oak tree, looked like the perfect way
to escape for a bit. Away from people. Away from flowers. But not too far that I couldn’t call for help for myself if I needed it.
I looked down at my chest. My scar was covered. Good.
I opened Gram’s flower design book to the first page, and the golden rays of the sun beamed onto it through the leaves of the aged tree. She had painted watercolour flowers and inked words in black:
* Flowers are love
* Flowers are created with love
* Love isn’t love until you give it away
* Actions speak louder than words
* Kind words conquer
I nodded my head, agreeing with her words. This is how Gram lived her life, every minute of every day. And this is how I used to be, before that terrible day of the scars. And that is all good and dandy, until you look evil in the face. Then it’s a matter of survival.
I stretched my fingers, stopping myself from touching the scar on my chest.
‘Don’t go there,’ I whispered to myself, and suppressed the hate that tried to rise from inside. I repeated my survival mantra with whispered words:
Forgiveness does far more for me than for them, and,
power over my own thoughts is my highest freedom.
Positive cognitive therapy could win.
I turned the page.
There were more flowers in an exquisite colour palette, and words about a smile.
* A smile is the universal welcome
* Use your smile to change the world;
don’t let the world change your smile
* A smile remains the most inexpensive gift I can
bestow on anyone and yet its powers can
vanquish kingdoms
* Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might
be the only sunshine they see all day
* Every time you smile at someone, it is an
action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing
I ran my fingers over the black ink script on the page ... smile ... my smile had disappeared that day. That day when I should have held on to Mia’s hand tighter. I should never have let our grip slip, even as my blood dripped from my body, down onto the jagged ocean rocks below.
Bile rose in my throat. I swallowed hard to push it back down to where it belonged.
I divided my life into before the event, and after the event. One was full of colour and laughter and music and love and life. The other, gray with an “a”, although, I wished it was grey with an “e”, like dark clouds and rain, like my heart was crying. But it was the colour of gray with an “a”. Nothing but tones of gray. My life was the colour of broken.
My psychologist had told me to “Smile in the mirror. Do it every morning and you’ll start to see a big difference in your life!”.
I doubted it. What would she know? Had she been through what I’d been through?
The sun disappeared behind a cloud. I looked up at the silver lining. Some people claimed it represented hope. I claimed it was time to return to the flower shop where I would stop looking inside of myself where the darkness lurked and threatened to pull me under.
I closed Gram’s book with care. This was surely an heirloom that would remain in the family until the end of earth time. And it was mine—for the pretend florist girl with the steel-capped work boots. I might start a fashion trend. You never know ...
I entered Flowers for Fleur with five minutes to spare. Lucy looked up and beamed me a captivating smile. Gram was right. A smile had power. Just like flowers. It touches your heart and soul and makes you think the world is perfect. Except it’s a lie. The world is not perfect. Nevertheless, I drank in every positive speck of energy Lucy’s smile offered me.
I walked to the workbench and donned my apron. There was Xander’s letter sitting on the bench waiting to be opened. I picked it up and started to slide my thumb under the seal, once again. Done. I reached in to pull out the piece of paper.
‘Yolande! I have a unique order for you to make up for Mrs Smith,’ Lucy called.
‘Great. I like unique orders,’ I said, hoping they didn’t pick up on my sarcasm. I closed the piece of paper and wriggled it back into the envelope.
Mrs Smith marched over to me at the workbench. I watched her carefully. Was she walking with confidence, or was she walking to confront me? She was the colour of crimson red—determination and triumph.
I decided to try out a smile. If she was walking to confront me, it might disarm her.
Smile. ‘Hi, Mrs Smith. How can I help you? Are you celebrating?’ Keep smiling ...
‘Yes, I am. Today I made a mistake!’
‘And you want to celebrate it?’ I raised my eyebrows at her. This was incredulous. Mistakes weren’t to be celebrated!
‘Absolutely. Normally, when I make a mistake, I have a meltdown and dwell on it for days and think of all the things I could have done to avoid making the mistake and I lose sleep and I beat myself up over it—’
‘That’s not uncommon,’ I interrupted. I bet it’s not as big as the mistake I made ...
‘Have you ever made a mistake, Yolande?’
At that moment, I wished Lucy had never called out my name to me. Mrs Smith used it like she was a teacher lecturing me. I looked down and smiled in a grimace type of way, hoping it didn’t look creepy. I looked back at her with a nice, pretend smile. ‘Everyday—what can I create for you,’ I said, trying to change the subject of mistakes, and trying to wash away her assumed accusation.
‘You know, I thought today, it’s okay to make mistakes ... it’s not as if my mistake has killed someone ...’
I stilled and swallowed my smile.
‘I think I would like to celebrate with a bouquet of ...’
Fruitcake, I thought, for the eccentric or mad person. She was making me mad! More than mad. She was making me angry. She deserved the fruitcake creation from Gram’s book of designs. Or was she frivolous? She was making such a kerfuffle over something so unimportant in the big scheme of things. She really needed some resilience.
What would Gram do? Kindness. The opposite of what I felt right now. But kindness is contagious, right? Just like a smile. Daisies, I decided. The blooms would just be daisies. They put sunshine into anyone’s life—mistake or no mistake.
‘Mrs Smith. Please wander over to Darcy and order a tea or coffee while you wait. It’s on the house. I have a wonderful creation of flowers in mind for you!’
Mrs Smith clasped her hands together in front of her chest. ‘Oh, thank you. That’s so wonderful, dear!’
I nodded and tried out another smile, hoping it would encourage her to walk away from me while I put together her concoction of daisies. I didn’t want her to watch me work. It would give away the fact that I’m a pretend florist. A fake.
It worked a treat. She about turned and marched over to see Darcy. When she ordered, Darcy looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. I nodded to him then disappeared into the cold room to collect a mixture of daisies for Mrs Smith and her “mistake”.
I returned to the workbench with ten yellow daisies, ten white daisies with a yellow centre, and a single pink gerbera daisy for her mistake. I wrapped the stems with Hessian and bound it with string before I bundled the bouquet in natural brown paper. It was brimming with the simplistic beauty of daisies, plus a pink mistake. I stepped back and admired my creation. “Mistake of Madness”—that’s what I’ll call it. I took out my phone and photographed it for Gram. She would be pleased.
I picked up the flowers and Xander’s letter and took them to the sales desk. I decided to read the letter while I waited for Mrs Smith to finish her cup of tea.
I pulled the note out of the envelope and opened it up. I gasped. Xander’s handwriting was flawless—every curl and swirl and dot and cross, written in black ink with a ... nib? Calligraphy. That’s what it was—unlike his earlier notes. Did he write it?
Arms wrapped around me from behind. ‘Time for me to go, my love,’ Lucy whispered into my ear, twenty minutes later
than eleven o’clock.
I folded the letter, put it down and turned around to Lucy. ‘Of course it is. Thanks so much for helping out.’
‘Anything for Gram. Good news is coming!’
‘Yes. Yes, it is!’ I smiled at Lucy. This time it was genuine, and my heart was lighter. ‘See you later, alligator!’ I said—our childhood farewell.
‘In a while, crocodile!’ she finished, smiled and scrunched up her nose at me, then left the store. I watched the bounce in her step. Energy followed her. It was contagious. I was eternally thankful for the time she spent with me after the scars came into being.
Mrs Smith’s face appeared in my line of vision. ‘Ah—how was your cup of tea, Mrs Smith?’ People liked it when you used their name—apparently.
‘Delightful, thanks,’ she answered. She looked at the flowers I had prepared for her “mistake” celebration, and her eyes lit up. ‘Perfect, Yolande. Your grandmother would be proud!’
‘Naw ... thanks, Mrs Smith. Would you like to pay with cash or credit card?’
‘Cash please, dear. When you use your credit card, the government and Internet watchers know everything about your spending, hence your lifestyle, building a psychological profile about you,’ she said. ‘You watch. Buy something on credit card, and BING! advertising for the same product will come up everywhere on your computer as your browse the Internet! Sometimes I even wonder if they are listening in to our conversations ...’
I frowned. Mistake or no mistake, I think Mrs Smith was onto something. Could she be right? Scary if she was. ‘That’ll be $40.00, please,’ I said.
‘Really? I was expecting $50.00 for these gorgeous flowers.’
I smiled at her. ‘I’m celebrating owning and surviving your mistake with you. $40.00 is fine!’
‘Bless you, dear!’ Mrs Smith said, and handed over the money.
‘Enjoy your bouquet of sunshine, Mrs Smith,’ I said and smiled. Again. I wondered if it was possible to use up all of your stored smiles ...
Mrs Smith’s former determined march had transformed into a light step. Gram would be happy. I gave a customer smiles and sunshine. She’ll be back to purchase flowers, tea, coffee or books in the future. Happy customers = booming store.
At 11.45am the store became quiet. It was the calm before the storm when people rushed into Flowers for Fleur in a flower buying and ordering frenzy during their lunch break. I looked around at the jobs I had to do in fifteen minutes, but I really needed to read Xander’s letter. I looked over at Darcy. He was busy polishing glasses and coffee cups.
