by Delia Latham
“All right, my handsome prince. I will live. I’ll raise our son to know his father was a good man—the best of the best. And I’ll name him—or her, if we’re both wrong—Donovan.”
She folded the letter, raised it to her lips and held it there while she closed her eyes and envisioned her young soldier husband in a place too beautiful for words. He strolled along a dancing stream that crooned the same melody performed by the creek beside which they’d first said, “I love you.” At his side walked a man who looked very much like the familiar image that, throughout the ages, had come to be known as Jesus.
Both wore radiant smiles.
“And so will I,” Norah whispered. “Until we meet again, my love.”
~ Chapter 9 ~
Eight and a half years later
N
ORAH GENTLY LIFTED A VINE on her prize hoya. She’d babied this one since she opened the nursery three years ago. Every similar plant she’d seen elsewhere paled in comparison.
She still had to pinch herself now and then. Norah Perlman grew up as poor as the proverbial church mouse in Echo City, Arizona—a dusty little town whose name seemed downright grandiose. It lacked a whole lot to ever qualify as an official city. The girl who’d lived the first half of her life in a place like that couldn’t possibly own this thriving nursery and greenhouse, could she?
Norah’s Garden and Greenhouse boasted more types of plants than she’d even known existed six years ago, when she started working toward a degree in horticulture. She loved the rarities…her hoya collection sported several unusual species that always caught the eye of Ruidoso’s plant lovers.
“Mommy, look! I made it pretty.”
Norah whirled, a smile already tickling her lips.
Donovan. Already, at seven years old—rapidly approaching eight—her son possessed a bright green thumb. She teased him about needing gloves to hide the colorful digit—couldn’t have folks thinking he’d gotten a little chummy with gamma rays, like his hulky television hero, now could she? Donovan loved the analogy, and always laughed when she talked about his gardener’s thumb. His resemblance to Dylan in those moments pinched her heart with almost unbearable longing…and yet, she wouldn’t trade them for the world.
“You sure did, sweet boy.” She lowered herself so she could look straight into her son’s big, cobalt blue peepers. She touched the tiny bloom on a small hoya he’d potted for her while perched on his little stool behind her workstation. “This one is lovely! I think it deserves its own Norah’s Garden name, don’t you? What do you think of Donovan’s Delight?”
He scrunched his nose. “What’s a delight?”
Norah laughed and stood, brushing her fingers gently over his soft, dark curls. “It means something that makes you very, very happy.”
He lifted his gaze to hers and spoke in his usual serious tone. “You make me happy. Mommy. The plants are just…I don’t know. I like them. They’re pretty.”
She couldn’t help herself. Norah picked up the boy and held him close…but not for long. He’d reached the age at which he thought himself too big to be cuddled. The one exception was bedtime, when he insisted on snuggling into her lap while she read to him from a favorite book. Sometimes she sang softly until his eyelids drooped. Those were the nights he seemed to love most.
“In that case, we’ll call it a Donovan Hoya. How’s that? And every time a new plant comes off this one, it will have the same name.”
A shy grin spread across his handsome little face. “Yeah. Donovan’s Hoya. I like that.”
“I like it too.” The bell chimed over the front door and she widened her eyes. “Shall we go see who it is?”
He shrugged. “You go. I’m gonna make another My Hoya.”
She laughed softly. “You’re always such a busy little beaver. Okay. I’ll be back in a sniff and a heartbeat.”
He giggled. She smiled and winked, and then headed for the showroom.
Barely inside, she stopped. Wow. I didn’t know Ruidoso served up men who look like that.
The visitor stood next to a display of geraniums in a striking rainbow of colors. Dark brown hair kissed with gold grazed his collar in places, hung over it a bit in others. He faced away from her, providing a grand view of broad shoulders and, beneath the short sleeves of his shirt, biceps that bulged and flexed when he reached across two rows of plants to pick up a lovely purple-bloomed specimen.
Enough. You are not allowed to drool over the male customers.
Not that she often had occasion to behave in such an unladylike manner. Most of her customers were female, and the ones who weren’t had not, until now, been such delicious eye candy.
Norah Bradley! She chided herself, even as she strode purposefully across the floor.
“Hi, there. Can I help you find something?”
He spun toward her, and despite Norah’s stern self-chastisement and her determination to move past the rare moment of physical attraction, she was unprepared. Never had she seen eyes so green. A broad, open smile rendered her momentarily breathless. And her personal weakness, staring her in the face…a strong, slightly cleft chin, with sculpted bone structure that put to shame most of Hollywood’s finest male faces.
Either the stranger didn’t notice her slack-jawed fascination or was too much a gentleman to show that he did.
“Hello. I hope you can.” He grinned, and Norah suddenly understood the meaning of the word ‘swoon.’ “I’m surprised to find a nursery of this caliber in Ruidoso. Do you own it?”
“I do. I’m Norah Bradley…and thank you. I’m proud of Norah’s Garden.”
“You should be.” He stepped forward and held out a slender, well-tanned hand. “Marcus Conley. My daughter and I moved to Ruidoso a month or so ago.”
“I hope you like it here as much as I do. Ruidoso’s a great little village.” Determined not to stare, she pulled a small pair of scissors from her apron pocket. The only way to prevent such behavior was to simply avoid looking his way at all. She turned away to snip a faint brown edge from the leaf of a large Calathea Corona prayer plant.
“I like it a lot, so far. The house we purchased didn’t need much to make it homey—and that’s good. I know guys aren’t supposed to care about such things, but I confess, I’m big on cozy. My daughter deserves a place she wants to return to after school each day.”
“Yes, she does. All children do. How old is your daughter?”
“Ten going on sixteen.”
Norah laughed. “Sounds like she’s quite normal.”
“I guess so, but wow. It’s not easy on a single dad.”
“Trust me, it wouldn’t be any easier if you weren’t single. Wanting their little girls to stay little is a normal daddy thing. My dad sure did.”
“Well, at least I’m not alone. Do you have children?” He set the purple geranium on the counter, picked up the glossy Calathea from under Norah’s nose and made room for it, as well.
“One. My son is coming up on eight years old far too fast for my liking.” She glanced through the door to the back room. “He’s in the other room, probably elbow deep in potting soil.”
Marcus laughed. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yes. He loves working with the plants. I do believe his thumb is greener than mine. Don’t know how I’d run this business without him.” She smiled. “Actually, as much as he’d love to be in the nursery every minute, I only allow him to put in a certain amount of time here. Donovan’s a little shy, so I really push him to spend time with friends and enjoy some outdoor activities.”
“Well, we’re all different. Maybe Donovan’s not an outdoorsy type.”
“Maybe not. But I can’t allow him to overlook what’s out there, you know? Ruidoso is in such a beautiful geographical location. He needs to know and appreciate the world God created, and the beauty He included in it simply for our pleasure.”
Marcus’ green eyes widened, dark eyebrows lifted.
Oh, no. I’ve offended a customer with my talk of God. Oh,
well, so be it.
“Amen.”
Her head jerked upward, shocked by his response.
He offered a big grin and shrugged. “It’s refreshing to find a woman who’s unafraid to be honest about her Christianity.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” She relaxed a little, even found herself returning his playful smile. “God’s brought this woman a long way. There’s much to be thankful for, and I am never ashamed to give Him the glory He deserves.”
They chatted a little longer. Marcus asked where she attended church, and she invited him to the upcoming Sunday service. After a few moments, she walked behind the counter and stroked a leaf on the prayer plant. “I’ll miss this girl. I nursed her back to health after rescuing her from a nursery that was closing its doors in Roswell. Poor baby was almost too far gone to save.”
“Well, you’d never know it now.” Marcus pulled a checkbook from his pocket. “It’s a gorgeous plant. I’ve never seen one quite like it. But I actually came here to see if you had a Juliet rosebush.”
Norah gasped. “Seriously? You’re familiar with the Juliet?”
“Saw one in a garden show in New York shortly before my daughter was born. I found the rose stunningly beautiful. My wife had no objection when I wanted to name our daughter Juliet Rose.”
His wife? He said he was single. Flag number one.
“It’s a lovely name. And yes, I do have a Juliet rose in stock.” She captured one side of her bottom lip between her teeth. Should she ask? But she had no choice, of course. “You’re aware the Juliet is rather expensive?”
“Oh, yes.” He laughed. “I don’t care. I’d love to have two bushes if you’ve got them.”
She shook her head. “I only have one on hand. But if you’d like, I can have another here for you in a week to maybe ten days.”
“I’d like that a lot. I’ll pay for them both now, if that’s all right, along with these two beauties taking up space on your counter.”
“That’s not necessary. You don’t need to pay for the other Juliet until it comes in.”
“I’d rather do it now.”
“Well, they tell me the customer is always right.” She rang up his purchase and wrapped the two plants in a protective and pretty cellophane wrap for the journey home. “I’ll get your Juliet.”
After she’d helped him arrange the plants in his SUV, Norah hurried back inside where she peeked through the front window and watched him drive away. A smile tugged at her lips because she knew Marcus Conley would be back to pick up another “rather expensive” Juliet rose bush.
He mentioned a wife. She scolded herself, only to have herself argue back. He also said he’s single.
What did it matter anyway? Yes, the man was good-looking, and she’d liked the way he presented himself. He seemed quite nice at first impression. But she’d learned a long time ago that first impressions didn’t always deliver a true picture of a person’s character. Besides, she was not in the market for a husband—not even a boyfriend. She had all she needed with her son, her dear friends, and this shop she’d worked so hard to make successful.
Marcus’ car disappeared into the distance as Donovan tugged on her hand. “I’m hungry, Mommy. Is it time to go home yet?”
“Yes, sweet boy.” She tousled his hair, grinning a little at the grains of potting soil that somehow found their way into the soft curls. “Let’s lock up.”
Donovan started the process of turning off all the right lamps while leaving certain ones burning. Norah’s heart swelled. The seven-year-old displayed a sense of responsibility far past his years.
“What shall we have tonight? Broccoli and Brussel sprouts?”
“Eeeww! No way!”
Norah went into the potting room to get her purse from under the workstation. “Really? Well, how about liver and onions then? That’ll make your bones strong.”
“Mom!” Donovan followed her outside. “Just make mac ’n cheese, okay?”
Norah bit back a burst of laughter. “You want that icky orange stuff again? Really?”
She unlocked the car with her remote control and Donovan raced ahead to climb inside. Norah rounded the car to the driver’s side, puzzled to see a folded sheet of paper beneath her windshield wiper. Who’d been here? Maybe Shay stopped by but didn’t come in because Norah had a customer. She tried to never be in the way, no matter how many times Norah told her it was impossible for her to be ‘in the way.’
Silly Mama Shay. Norah grinned and plucked the paper from beneath its prison.
You need a Time-out to remember you’re mine.
Her heart took off at a stuttering gallop. She made a full turn. Who’d left this? Was he watching her even now? A shudder skittered up her spine. Forcing a smile for her son, she slid behind the wheel and locked the doors in a single motion she hoped came across as nonchalant. No need to frighten a little boy over something so silly.
Donovan gave her an elaborate eyeroll, as if there’d been no break in the conversation. “Yeah, Mom. Orange stuff for dinner again, okay?”
Norah shoved her rattled nerves aside. “Mac ’n cheese it is, sweet boy. But you need a veggie too. How about corn?”
He nodded. “I like corn—but only on the cob.”
“I’m sure I can find a cob.” She grinned. “Then we can watch that silly movie again.”
“Watchmen of the World is not silly.”
“Is too.”
“Not.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to watch it one…more…time before I make a final decision on that.”
Donovan shook his head. “Sometimes I worry about you, Mom.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Noting the serious look on her son’s face, Norah bit back a burst of laughter.
“Yep. Sometimes I worry a whole lotta lots.”
She reached out to give his arm an affectionate squeeze.
“Well, you don’t need to worry, Donovan. As long as I’ve got you, I’m fine. Better than fine…I’m on top of the world.”
He shot her a shy, lopsided smile. Then he plugged earbuds into his ears and a lively video game showed up on his tablet.
She chuckled. Her son wasn’t much on extended conversation, but she’d take what she could get.
* * * *
On Saturday, Norah occupied a table at Little Ponderosa while Penny and Shay hovered over her like two mother hens. The two women looked nothing alike, but in this moment, they might’ve passed for twins.
“Well? What was he like?”
“Was he handsome? Did he flirt?”
“Come on, Norah! Give us something.”
She’d shared with her two friends that she sold the Juliet rose. They each worked a day a week in Norah’s Garden and Greenhouse and were familiar with her treasured Juliet. They also knew it was the most expensive rosebush in her inventory—maybe the most high-dollar rose in the inventory of any nursery owner who carried it.
She laughed and held up both hands, palms out. “Whoa! Good thing the poor guy can’t see the two of you right now. He’d never show up at the nursery again. You both have wedding bells in your eyes, and I’ve only seen Marcus Conley once. Stop it, already!”
“And? How many times had you met Dylan before you professed your undying love?”
Norah closed her eyes. “Once,” she muttered. “Why did I let you matchmakers know me so well?”
Penny turned on the sunshine-smile that made everybody feel better, no matter the situation.
Shay turned on the blarney. “Okay, we’ll stop if you’ll tell us a wee bit about the bonny lad.” Her green eyes glittered with fun as she assumed a strong Scottish accent. She rarely used it, but her grandparents had succeeded in passing down through the generations the native speech patterns they brought from their country. “After all, we puirrr marrried souls must live vicarrriously through the young’uns amongst us, don’tcha know, my dearrr?”
By now, both Norah and Penny were laughing. Norah wiped her eyes and shook her head. “You’re i
ncorrigible, Mama Shay. Fine, I will give you this much and no more. When I first saw Marcus Conley, for the first time in my life I mentally used the term ‘eye candy.’”
Merely saying the words brought a warm flush to her cheeks, which did nothing to make Shay and Penny back down.
“Oh, look, Penny—my sweet girrrl’s a-blushin’!”
“So I see. Why the pink cheeks, Norah Lee? Did you, perchance, think a bit more than just eye candy?”
“Maybe.” Norah hiked her chin in a show of fake defiance. “Maybe not. Either way, I gave you nosy Nellie’s what I said I would, and I will say no more. Now either drop the subject and join me for lunch, or I’ll—” She searched her mind for an effective threat. “I’ll tell Hoss one of his customers is being harassed by malicious matchmakers.”
Both women burst into wild laughter. Still, they took the seats across from Norah, and Shay motioned the waitress over. When the girl left with their orders, Shay held up one finger and crinkled her nose.
“Whaaat?” Norah shot her a warning glance.
“Can I ask one more teensy-weensy question?”
“Would it do me any good to say no?”
“No.”
She downed a big swig of her soda and glared playfully at her friend. “Then ask. But I’m warning you…”
“I know, I know. It isn’t about Mr. Oh-So-Fine.”
Norah frowned. “Really? What, then?”
“Donovan said you had a note under your windshield, and that when you read it, your face got all ‘scrunchy’—which I’m pretty sure means worried. By now, you know if there’s any worrying to be done, we all do it together. So…what’s up with the note?”
~ Chapter 10 ~
N
ORAH CAPTURED HER LIP BETWEEN her teeth so her friends wouldn’t see their sudden tremble.
