Falling for You

by Lisa Schroeder

  Spencer hung up the phone and called out, “Would tomorrow just hurry up and get here already?”

  I laughed. “But, Spencer, it’s the day of love. Bask in it.”

  “I want to bask in my bed is what I want to do. I think Nina and I did something like sixty-seven deliveries between the two of us. And there are still more to do.”

  “I’ll go tell her I can do the rest.” I headed toward the workroom. “Hey. What was your best delivery today?”

  He stood up, grinning. “Oh, that one’s easy. The only place busier than Full Bloom is probably the courthouse downtown, where people are getting married right and left. Anyway, a lady from Missouri called and said her daughter was getting married and asked if we could make up a special bouquet for her to carry. Oh, Rae, you should have seen the girl’s face. She was literally tickled pink. Her guy is in the military and ships off in a few days. Super-sweet couple.”

  It made me smile, because I knew how rewarding it was to be a part of deliveries like that one.

  “But you know the best part?” he asked. “The bride asked me to stay for the ceremony. I was one of their witnesses!”

  “Aw, that’s great, Spence. Did you cry?”

  He dabbed at his right eye. “You know me. More sentimental than Mr. Hallmark.”

  I patted his shoulder as I walked past him toward the door. I could see Nina putting the finishing touches on a few more bouquets.

  “Oh, Rae, wait a second. This came for you today too.” Spencer handed me an envelope. As I took it, images of Maddie and Ella flashed before my eyes. With everything going on, I hadn’t thought about them much lately.

  I opened the envelope and pulled out the card and fifty dollars cash. I read it out loud to Spencer.

  Please deliver a bouquet to the following address:

  The Crestfield Hospital, Room 1241

  The flowers are for George. Sign the card “From a Friend.”

  Nina stuck her head out the door. “Rae, if you don’t get started like right now, we’re not going to get all these flowers delivered. Come back here so I can show you what’s what, okay?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “I don’t want to worry Nina about this today,” I told Spencer. “There really isn’t any time to make a new bouquet. Can you pick one out of the case for me?”

  “You bet. I’m sure I can find something George will love.”

  I went to the back, where Nina ran down the list before she helped me load the van with all the flowers. Spencer brought me a beautiful bouquet to take to George that wasn’t pink and red like most of the others. It had wild grasses, gerbera daisies, roses, and peonies in a pretty woven basket.

  Nina had provided me with a route that would take me through our town quickly and efficiently. I decided before I got started on her list, I’d stop at the hospital and deliver George’s flowers first, since the hospital was close by.

  When I got there, I parked and made my way to the twelfth floor.

  “Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk.

  “I have a delivery. For George? He’s in room twelve forty-one. Should I take them to him or would you like to do it?”

  The nurse took the flowers from me. “Thank you. I can take them to him.”

  “Is he going to be okay? I mean, what’s he here for?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t share any patient information. But, yes, he is going to be fine.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Thanks again,” she said as she whisked the flowers away.

  As I spun around to make my way back to the elevator, I practically ran right into Leo.

  missing you

  “HEY,” LEO SAID. HE BUSTED OUT HIS WARM, ENDEARING SMILE. Man, I’d missed that smile. Man, I’d missed Leo.

  “Hi.”

  After a few seconds of awkward silence, he raised his eyebrows and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day?”

  I squeezed my hands together nervously. “Yeah. Wow, what a day. I think everyone and their dogs are getting flowers today.” Then I remembered the reason he was probably hanging out at the hospital. “Wait. Is your grandma still here?”

  “Well, she was here. Then she went home. And then she came back. She gets to go home again today. Hopefully for good this time.”

  “Are your parents here?” I asked.

  “My mom is with her, getting her ready to go. I went and brought the car around to the front entrance. That’s where I was coming from.”

  “I’m glad she’s doing better.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Well”—I gestured toward the elevator—“I should get back to those deliveries.” I hated how strained it felt between us. I wondered if it would ever feel comfortable again.

  “I know you must be really busy,” he said softly, “but do you have just a minute? To talk?”

  It made me think of Nathan. Whenever I agreed to talk, it only seemed to make things worse. I couldn’t take another roller coaster of emotions.

  “I can’t.” My eyes met his for just a second as I walked past him. “I’m sorry, Leo. I have to get going.”

  And then I continued on with my afternoon, spreading love through the town of Crestfield. To everyone, it seemed, but me.

  • • •

  When I got home, I went right to the kitchen to make myself the last of the Top Ramen. Tomorrow was payday. The grocery store would be my first stop, right after the bank.

  As the microwave did its magic, I went through the mail. In the past week we’d gotten second and third notices from all the utility companies, asking for payment. And just as I wondered what, if anything, I should do about that, the electricity went out.

  “Perfect,” I muttered. I pulled my Top Ramen out of the microwave and put my finger in the bowl. Warm, but not hot. I fumbled around in the drawers, first for a flashlight and then for a fork.

  Set with food and light, at least for the time being, I went to my room. Thankfully, my laptop was fully charged. I opened it and checked e-mail first. I kept hoping Mom would get in touch somehow. Dean probably had her on a tight leash, wherever they were. That’s what I really wanted to know—where were they? But there was nothing from Mom. Not that I’d really expected her to find a computer and send me an e-mail. She probably didn’t even know my e-mail address.

  I did have an e-mail from Leo, though. He’d sent it just a few minutes ago. I opened it and found a video, along with a note that said:

  Rae,

  Consider this my Valentine’s card. Even though it’s all about Christmas. I know, that’s confusing. But since our date, I’m in a constant state of confusion.

  Leo

  I hit play and slurped my noodles as I watched the two of us being silly at the mall, before we’d found the evening dress that he’d insisted I try on. Leo handed me a cashmere sweater with a price tag of $229. I accepted the gift with gratitude and adoration all over my face.

  “It’s the perfect color,” I said to the camera. “And so unbelievably soft. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Yes, Rayanna, the periwinkle looks perfect against your skin. And the blue in your eyes, it makes them look so . . . ”

  “Blue?” I quipped.

  We laughed.

  He’d added some soft, breezy piano music behind the film, cutting out when one of us said something cute or funny. It was good. More than anything, I noticed how genuinely happy we looked. Maddie had been right. We made a cute couple.

  At the end, Leo used the clip of him and me, arm in arm, as he held the camera in front of us. He looked at me. “Best Christmas ever, Rae. Thank you.” I remembered how I’d felt when he said that. Because he’d said exactly what I had been thinking. And I didn’t know what to say after that. So I’d just smiled at him and said, “Yeah. Best Christmas ever.” Then we looked back at the camera as Leo had said, in a very deep voice, “Be sure to tune in next time, when we go diving for buried treasure at Pirate’s Cove!” I raised my eyebrows, and then the
screen went dark. Just as I was about to close the window, white letters slowly scrolled across the black screen.

  I MISS YOU, RAE. YOUR FRIEND, LEO

  Was the message supposed to make me feel better? Because it had the opposite effect—I felt such incredible sadness as I realized how much I missed him.

  I desperately missed him.

  And there, in my room, where I sat alone in the dark and cold, the pain came crashing down on me.

  It sliced up every inch of my body.

  Every breath was excruciating.

  For days, weeks even, I’d been pushing all the emotions away, over and over again. All of it—the stuff with Dean, feeling abandoned by my own mother, dealing with Nathan, and losing Leo. Just stay busy, I’d told myself. Go to school, go to work, come home, keep a smile on your face, and don’t let anyone know you’re hurting.

  I pretended the pain away.

  Now the pain had become a monster, and there was no escaping him.

  I crawled into my bed and sobbed into my pillow. The darkness filled me up so completely, I wondered if I’d ever see light again.

  I cried and cried. With every tear, the monster only seemed to get stronger. His grip on me was tight, and never had I felt so helpless. It went on for a long time, until it felt like I was being smothered. I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped out of bed, ripping the covers off and throwing them on the floor.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I screamed. “What do I DO?”

  Now fury boiled inside me. I tore posters off the wall. I pulled dresser drawers out and flung them on the floor. I threw the small trash can at the closet doors.

  Something bounced out. Something small. And that’s when I remembered. Mom had given me a gift.

  Holding the flashlight, I frantically searched the floor until I found it. As I tore the paper off the small box, my breathing loud and erratic, I wished for something good. I couldn’t bear to be hurt again.

  For once, I got my wish. As I stared at the gift, it comforted me, and I felt the monster retreat. I breathed easier. It was a small, round, silver picture frame with a photo of me, my mom, and my grandma. Grandma, healthy and alive. Mom, her arms squeezing me tight, a smile on her face. And me, a little girl who, in that moment, smiled big and bright because she felt loved.

  My grandma—such a light in my life, and so full of wisdom. Like my friend Ella.

  “Life should have more moments like this,” Ella had said that night we ate hamburgers in the car, watching the lights in town.

  Why couldn’t there be more moments like that? Why did it always have to be so hard?

  My thoughts circled back to Ella having to move out of her home. To Maddie, a teenage mother. To George, in the hospital. All of them facing tough situations. And somewhere, out there, a person sent them flowers, hoping to light up their world momentarily.

  I crawled to my bed, clutching the picture frame to my chest. Every muscle ached. My eyelids felt heavy, like I hadn’t slept for weeks. I picked up a blanket off the floor and clambered into bed. As I flipped off the flashlight, the darkness returned, but I didn’t panic. I told myself to hang on. A little bit of beautiful light had eventually found all those people.

  Maybe, just maybe, it’d find me too.

  poetry journal—february

  A NEW DAY

  Soft,

  warm,

  golden

  light

  reaches

  through my

  window

  and wraps

  its arms

  around me

  as if to say

  you are

  loved.

  I smile,

  caressing

  the golden

  light,

  remembering

  all that is

  good

  in my life.

  Friends.

  Work.

  Flowers.

  It’s amazing

  how a little

  light

  changes

  the

  perspective.

  a good reminder

  I STOOD NEXT TO MY TRUCK AFTER SCHOOL, RUMMAGING AROUND in my backpack, trying to find my keys. A hand squeezed my upper arm. It was Nathan.

  I took a deep breath and, as nicely as I could, said, “Hi. How’s it going?”

  “Did you get my Candygram yesterday?” he asked. He didn’t look very well. He’d lost weight, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

  “Yes, thanks, but you really—”

  “It’s true, Rae. I can’t stop thinking about you. I miss you. I miss us. Is there any chance we could try again? Or at least be friends?”

  I stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. Maybe at one time I’d believed we could be friends, but not anymore. I didn’t know how to help him. And I didn’t have room in my life for one more person to worry about.

  He continued. “Things are so messed up. My mom and dad, they’ve separated. And it’s hell. My mom won’t stop crying. And I don’t know what to do, you know?” He looked up toward the sky as he ran his hand through his hair. “I need someone to talk to.” His eyes looked back at mine. “Don’t you get it? How much I miss you?”

  I opened my truck door. “I’m sorry about your parents. But, Nathan, you need to find someone else to talk to. Can you call one of your friends from New York?”

  He shook his head in disgust. “You don’t understand. I don’t have any friends there. Not anymore. She turned them all against me.”

  Who was “she,” I wondered? Maybe he’d been Mr. Psycho with someone else, too. I wasn’t about to ask.

  “Look, I have to go, or I’m going to be late for work.”

  He reached behind me and slammed the door closed. I managed to pull my hand away just in time or it would have been smashed.

  “Why won’t you talk to me?” he yelled. “That’s all I want to do, I swear!”

  “Do you see what you’re doing right now?” I said. “This is why. You scare me when you’re like this, Nathan.” My voice got quieter. “It’s over. I’m sorry. Nothing’s going to change my mind.”

  His jaw tightened and he grabbed my arm. “I need you! I can’t . . . I don’t know what to do.”

  People were looking at us. I tried to be calm. “Just . . . do your best. Take it one day at a time. Some days, one hour at a time. That’s what I do. That’s all anyone can do. Sometimes life sucks. Believe me, I know. We just have to get through the best we can.” His grip loosened. I tried to smile. “You can do it, Nathan. You can. Look. You’re already doing it, right? Give yourself some credit.”

  He dropped his hand and took a deep breath. I backed into my truck, fumbling for the handle. “I really have to go. Maybe you should go see the school counselor. She could help you.”

  His eyes turned hard again. “I don’t want . . . ” His voice trailed off for a second. “Never mind. Obviously you don’t care.”

  “I do, but I can’t—”

  “No. You don’t. And, God, how I wish I didn’t.” And then he was gone.

  • • •

  At work we took down the Valentine’s Day decorations and gave the shop a good cleaning. With a few bouquets left over, Nina told Spencer and I we should take one or two and find someone to give them to, so they didn’t go to waste.

  After I finished up my shift, I went to the bank to deposit my check and then I took a bouquet to Ella. I hoped she’d be happier about getting flowers this time around.

  The lady at the front counter gave me an Oh, isn’t that sweet look as I made my way to the elevator. When I got to Ella’s room, I knocked. It took her a while to answer, and when she did, she had her robe on.

  “Oh no,” I said. “Were you sleeping?”

  She shook her head slightly. “In bed. Trying to sleep. Not doing a very good job of it.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to bring you these. A late Valentine from me to you.”

  Her hands reached up, shaking slightly. As
I placed the bouquet in them, our hands touched. Hers felt cold.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you want me to call someone?”

  “I’m fine, dear.” She set the flowers on the counter a few steps behind her. Then she came back to the door. “I haven’t been feeling very well, but there’s nothing anyone can do. It’s just old age, I suppose. You know what I was thinking about while I tossed and turned?”

  I leaned on the door frame. “What?”

  “Poetry.”

  “Sara Teasdale?” I asked.

  “Yes. My son took all my books. I wish I’d asked him to leave my old copy of Flame and Shadow. Do you know I’ve had that book for more than sixty years? Her poetry has always been such a comfort to me.”

  I smiled. “I love poetry as well. I actually write my own. Sara Teasdale I’m not, but I love writing it. And reading it too.”

  “That’s wonderful, Rae. I find poetry so comforting. A dear friend, Ruth, gave me Flame and Shadow during an especially difficult time in my life. It meant the world to me, and when I told Ruth as much, her response really stuck with me. She said, ‘I’m glad you like the book. The joy on your face is like a poem, and I’m happy to have played a part in writing it.’ ”

  “Yes. You know, my grandmother always said, ‘The road to happiness is paved with good deeds for others.’ ”

  It made her smile. “She taught you well, Rae.”

  “You remind me of her, actually.” I wanted to ask Ella if I could come in and sit with her for a while. Make her some chamomile tea and tell her a story, so she might sleep.

  But then she said, “I think I can sleep now. Thanks for the flowers. You’re a good girl.”

  “So are you, Ella.”

  She reached out and stroked my hair before she gently shut the door.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I whispered.

  welcome home

  AFTER VISITING ELLA, I STOPPED AT THE GROCERY STORE BEFORE heading home. When I pulled up to the house, the lights were on and Mom’s old Buick sat in the driveway.