by Holly Kerr
“No, I haven’t spoken to her. But my neighbour said she was there, probably just after she left your store. I like your store, by the way. I didn’t tell you yesterday.”
“Thank you, but don’t worry about it. We had lots of other interesting things to discuss.”
“What do you think the most interesting was?”
Flora’s eyes twinkle. “Every minute was interesting, especially when you tried to carve me a new one.”
“Notice the word ‘tried.’”
“I grew up with three brothers so I don’t take crap from nobody!” Flora’s face falls. “Except for Thomas. I seemed to take a lot of crap from Thomas. I wonder why.”
“Love makes you stupid.”
“Not always. Actually, I’m not sure, because that was the only time I’ve ever been in love, unless you count my high school boyfriend, but he was just in it for the sex.”
“And were you just in it for the sex?” The corner of my mouth twitches as the image of sex with Flora flashes through my mind and just won’t leave.
I can tell from the flush of red creeping up her face that Flora is thinking the same thing.
I’ve never been friends with someone I’ve had sex with. I know for absolute sure now that Evelyn and I were never friends, and even if we had been, there would be none of this easy banter with her.
“Once he figured out the sex part, it was pretty good,” Flora says, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “But that took a while, and then we broke up because he wanted to try out his moves on other girls. Considering the lack of time it took me to get over him, I don’t think it was true love.”
I stare at Flora’s mouth as her tongue darts out to flick her top lip. “That’s too bad,” I say, shifting my gaze back to her eyes with difficulty.
“What’s too bad?”
I honestly have no memory of what we’re talking about.
“Everything.”
“Beer!” Trev calls. “Let us in.”
~
“Do you want to get a drink?” Flora asks after the game as we file out of the Rogers Centre. The crowd is loud and excited over the Jays win with a walk-off single in the last inning, and Flora blends in with them, jumping and laughing as she replays the last inning with Trev.
It makes my heart warm to watch her.
“Sure,” I say, raising my eyebrow at Imad and Trev. “Where were you thinking?”
“I better get home,” Imad says with disappointment.
Trev takes a long look at Flora that shuts down the warmth in my heart and turns to me with a questioning expression. I stare-stone faced.
“I’ll head out with you,” he says reluctantly to Imad. “Good to meet you, Flora.”
“Thanks for the popcorn!” she says as she hugs both of them.
After they leave, we head down the street along with streams of people making their way to the subway. Flora has a fast pace and slips into spaces between people that I can’t fit into. “Wait up,” I call after losing sight of her for the third time.
Flora stretches her hand behind her.
It’s strange to hold another woman’s hand.
Evelyn’s hand had always been cool and soft to the touch because of the organic, probiotic and probably vegan hand cream she always used. Sometimes they felt greasy, like she had dipped her fingers into butter.
Flora’s hand is smaller and just as soft, but I feel the calluses on her palm. Holding her hand feels natural, like it was made to fit into mine.
“Let’s go in here,” Flora says, skirting around a few groups of people to the pub on the corner.
The pub is loud and full of baseball fans. Still holding Flora’s hand, I lead the way to the bar.
“This reminds me of this place in Las Vegas,” I say as I slide onto a stool. “After you dumped us to see naked men, I wandered along the strip, trying to get my head together. I ended up at this little dive bar.”
“This isn’t a dive bar. This is a Firkin pub,” Flora explains. “They’re famous.”
“Mine wasn’t famous. But this woman sat down next to me and—”
“Ooh! Did you get picked up?”
The bartender greets them and Flora orders a beer. “I’m buying, since your friends bought me beer all night. What do you like, other than that watered-down stuff at the game?”
“Anything but the watered-down stuff. I’ll have a Guinness, please.”
“So tell me about getting picked up,” Flora demands, tucking her fist under her chin as she leans on the bar.
“She was actually a he, so no picking up. We talked.”
“A he-she? Is that politically correct?”
“She was a member of this dance troop. Really pretty.”
Flora giggles. “You just called a guy pretty. Isn’t that against the guy code or something?”
“She was attractive. And I had no idea she was a guy.”
“Where are you from again?”
“Edmonton.”
“That explains a lot.” With a laugh, Flora dodges my gentle smack against her arm.
It was never this easy with Evelyn. I always watched what I said with her, careful to seem interested and ask the right questions. Evelyn was never able to relax; her mind continually ran at warp speed, which was a little tiresome at times.
Flora is different.
“Have you thought about dating?” Flora’s question comes out of left field.
“With you?”
“You told me you didn’t want to date me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Pretty much.” She gives a wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter now. Friends. I meant dating other people.” She scans the other patrons in the pub, gesturing with her chin at a couple seated close by. “Look at them. I don’t know how they do it.”
“Do what? They’re just sitting there.”
“They’re on a date,” she whispers.
“They probably think we are too, but you don’t see them staring at us.”
“I think I had maybe six “dates” with Thomas in all the years we were together.” She smiles ruefully. “He worked a lot, and he had his daughter. The older she got, the less he wanted her to know about me. He liked it when I played invisible.”
I want to ask Flora more than anything why she put herself through that. “Where did you meet him?” I ask instead.
“Through baseball, if you can believe it. I was coaching my niece’s team and we went to a tournament and played Thomas’ daughter’s team.”
“Do you know, you hunch your shoulders sometimes when you talk about Thomas, almost like you’re afraid of his reaction?” I ask slowly. “You know I’m not him. I’m not judging you, about anything.”
She stares at me with big green eyes. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Do you still love him?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t let myself dwell on it. It’s enough that I’m getting used to my life without him. I didn’t see him a lot, but he was there, you know? Like he’d call me every morning on his way to work. And he’d send me texts to let me know he was thinking of me. I know it wasn’t a great relationship, but it was all I had.”
“That’s how I feel,” I confess. “With Evelyn. She wasn’t the easiest person to be with, but she was there for me when I needed her, and I was grateful.”
“That’s not a good reason to stay with someone,” Flora points out with a grin.
“There were other reasons too. I just never got up and did something about it.”
“I think that’s the hardest thing. I obviously made a bit of a mess out of it, but at least it’s over.”
“You don’t seem upset.”
“I don’t think about it,” she says briskly. “I learned to compartmentalize after my father died. I have this place in my mind where the sad stuff goes, and I don’t go there. Maybe once in a while, if I hear a song or I can’t sleep at night, but it’s locked.” She pantomimes turning a key.
“I
don’t know much about that sort of stuff, but I’m not sure that’s the best way to deal with things.”
“Oh, I know,” Flora sighs. “M.K. is always telling me to deal with things but I prefer not to.”
I think about that as I sip my beer. There are so many things I prefer not to think about.
“So I Googled you.” Time for another subject, even though Flora’s grimace tells me maybe it’s not the best one. When I got home last night, instead of watching TV, I opened my laptop and typed in Flora’s name in the search engine. After wading through the listings for her flower shop, and an article about how she had veered away from the family nursery business to set up shop on her own, I found her on the roster of the 2008 Canadian National Softball Team.
“Why didn’t you tell me you played? Like, really played?” I demand.
She stared ruefully into her beer. “How did you find out?”
“You can find anything online. You were this close to going to the Olympics,” I marvel. I found a picture of her team, all proudly wearing their Canada jerseys. It had been easy to pick out Flora, from the long blonde hair and a huge grin. She wore catcher’s equipment, and her hat was turned backwards. She looked young and happy and very pretty.
“’This close’ doesn’t get you there,” she says. “Anyway, it was a long time ago, and I’ve put that part of me away, like the Thomas part. Plus,” she adds with another twinkle, “I know what you ballplayers think of softball, especially girls playing it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re jealous that I got to play with bigger balls.”
My laugh booms out, unexpected but it feels good.
It feels really good to laugh.
“I like your laugh,” Flora says, her cheeks pink.
It hits me like a fist to the gut. She’s so pretty in a natural, girl-next-door kind of way. I can tell she’s not the type who would make me wait an hour to fix her face, experimenting with makeup and hairstyles. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I prefer the natural look.
I prefer the Flora look.
She smiles widely, her tongue nudging against the space between her two front teeth, her shorter hair brushing her jawline with a featherlight touch. Does she know how pretty she is? Not just pretty but beautiful.
I shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful she is.
As I stare at her, Flora’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing? Why?”
“You look like you got kicked in the face. It’s hard to read your expression because of the beard.” She reaches out and cups my chin. “But your eyes tell a lot.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I mutter. Flora tucks her fist under her chin and stares at me like she’s waiting for me to tell her every single thing that’s on my mind.
And I want to.
“I was thinking of how pretty you are,” I say gruffly, eyes fixed on the dwindling foam in my glass.
“Why is that a bad thing? That’s a nice thing. It’s because you don’t want to date me, isn’t it?”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why? Isn’t it true?”
“Just don’t say it. I don’t want to talk about that.” Because right now I want nothing more than to pull Flora off her stool and into my lap, to kiss her until she has the stunned smile in her eyes like she did in Las Vegas.
I don’t want to think about Las Vegas. Because then I have to come up with good reasons why I’m not kissing her right now, and I left that list at home.
“Tell me about playing ball,” I suggest, hearing the pleading tone in my voice.
“I’d rather talk about other things, but okay.” Flora shrugs. “What do you want to know?”
What you taste like right now, the voice in my head says, but I push it aside. I can’t think about that now.
Maybe someday.
Soon?
Chapter Sixteen
Flora
The next morning I wake up with a smile. I’m not sure if it’s the new bed or being with Dean last night. The more time I spend with him, the more I like him. More than I should like a guy I hardly know.
But the more time I spend with Dean, the more I find myself thinking of Thomas.
Cappie is happy when I take him out for his morning walk. It’s a beautiful morning, clear and crisp for August. I’m planting today and the breeze will help with the heat.
I check out the headlines in Mr. Cullen’s paper before I take Cappie in. A picture from the game is on the front page, so after a quick glance at Mr. Cullen’s front door, I take it inside.
After I read the sports section and a few articles, I return it, neatly rolled back up and back on Mr. Cullen’s step exactly how I found it
After breakfast, Cappie joins me in the backyard to check the plants in the greenhouses. I love my shop, but I need more than a closet-sized backroom to grow and propagate seeds. I had bought a cheap greenhouse when I had first moved into the house, but it hadn’t lasted the winter, so the next spring I splurged and bought a better one. That had been five years ago, and it’s still going strong. I added a second one last year so now most of my backyard is taken up by the little buildings.
The early-morning sun shines through the glass, showcasing the plants and flowers. The neighbours’ kids love to visit whenever they see me out here.
Fingering the delicate stems of salvia that have broken through the soil in the last few days, I wish again for more space. If I can grow my own plants then I won’t have to buy them. Even wholesale, they are an expense—a necessary one—but still, it’s difficult for my landscaping projects to turn a profit, especially when adding in the cost of labour. Luckily, I can do most of it myself, but today, I need an extra-strong body.
“Let’s go, Cap,” I say after watering and loading up the wagon with the hostas. The dog has buried his scrunched-up face in a pile of mulch, sending cedar pieces flying as he tears after me. With Cappie perched on the seat beside me, barking at any dog we pass on the street, I drive to my store, feeling an uncommon sensation.
It takes almost the whole drive to realize what it is. Happiness. True happiness, mixed with contentment as well as a bit of anticipation.
It’s a nice feeling.
Once I park, I head into Pain du Chocolat for my coffee, first apologizing to Cappie for leaving him outside. M.K. says dogs are bad for business.
“Morning.” M.K. waves from the cash register as I take my place in line. “So how was the game last night? Did you have a good time with Dean?”
“He’s a great guy,” I say.
“That sounds like there’s a but coming.”
“There’s no but. He’s incredible. I can tell him anything, we have so much in common; he’s so cute with the hair and the beard, but…” I smile sheepishly. “I guess there was a but.”
“But what?”
I heave a sigh. “He’s put me in the friend zone.”
“Friends with benefits?” Adam grins from behind the cappuccino machine. “Oh, come on,” he adds, noticing the older man in front of me looking over his shoulder, clearly interested in the conversation. “He wants to know the details as much as I do!”
“Just friends,” I repeat with an added emphasis on the word. “And as much as I hate to admit someone other than me is right, I think it’s the best way.” I turn to the man ahead of me, who’s not even bothering to pretend he’s not listening. “After eight years with someone, do you think I should rush into something with another guy?”
He gives a serious nod. “Might be a good idea to take it slow,” he says.
“See?” I throw up my hands. “Everyone agrees. He’s still messed up about Evelyn. He’d be nothing but a rebound guy for me, someone to get me back in the saddle.”
“You’ve been out of the saddle so long I think it’s time you made a new one,” Adam says with a girlish giggle.
“Why don’t you bug your boss here about her date last night?”
; “Already done.” Adam skips behind the counter. “She was practically glowing when she came in this morning.”
“Do you have a new beau?” the woman paying for her latte asks M.K., who smiles sheepishly. I recognize the woman from both the café and the shop. It’s a nice neighbourhood with the locals preferring the ease of stopping into Pain rather than the more generic coffee franchises.
“She does and he’s very nice,” I tell the woman with a grin at M.K. “I’m here for all the details.”
“She hasn’t told me if they’re NSFW yet,” Adam calls over the hiss of the steamer.
“So how was dinner?” I ask.
“Nice.” The way M.K.’s eyes shine tells me more than her simple description ever could. I can’t remember the last time M.K. looked so happy. “Dinner was amazing and then we went back to my place.”
My eyes pop. “We talked,” M.K. assures the woman as Adam gives her the latte. “For hours. Just talked about everything. I told him about the bike accident…and about Ben.”
“Really?” M.K. never talks about Ben. She had been desperately in love with him but he broke her heart when he cheated on her. Before she had a chance to even think about forgiving him, Ben was killed in an accident. Lack of closure had tormented her ever since.
“He’s so nice and amazing…” M.K. laughs. “I need better descriptive words.”
“He sounds like a fine man,” the man in front of me says.
“He is,” M.K. gushes.
“Isn’t she glowing?” Adam asks. “I can’t wait to meet this guy.”
“He’s coming by later today. Not to meet you,” M.K. adds. “To see Pain. He’s taking me to lunch.”
“Dinner last night…lunch today…sounds like things are moving along well. Not too fast?” I raise my eyebrows. M.K.’s a big girl, but I’ve had her back since kindergarten and it’s hard to shake.
“I want it to go fast,” M.K. says in a low voice. “I want to know all about him. I can’t stop thinking about him, Flora.”
