Page 47 of Courage, Dear Heart

I rub my chin, and the day-old scruff scratches my palm—I’ll shave before I see her tonight. “What about young flower shop owners? Am I making an impression on them?”

“Them? How many flower shop owners are you trying to impress?”

I smile and brace myself on the counter. “Only one.”

Jillian puts her papers away and leans a hip on her side of the counter, crosses her arms, a teasing smile on her lips. “Your sisters stopped by yesterday after you dropped me off.”

“They did?” Surprising but not necessarily unexpected. Sabrina no doubt told Elsa all about the baking date, and then Elsa would have had to see Jillian for herself.

I tense. “My sisters can be pushy. I hope they didn’t interrogate you or tell you embarrassing stories about me. They love to do that.”

She laughs. “No, nothing like that. I got to meet your niece. Adorable little girl. She got along great with Jamie. Sabrina has an idea for cupcakes with edible flowers and asked me about it. I’ll be supplying her with organic edible flowers.”

Relief eases the tightness in my shoulders. My sisters behaved. For now, at least. I need to have a talk with them. “Flowers are edible?”

“Not all of them. But some for sure.”

“What do they taste like?”

“It depends on the flower. Flowers like lavender, thyme, and basil taste similar to their leaves but tend to be spicier. Fruit flowers, like apple, elderberry, and citrus blossoms, range from sweet to citrusy.”

I can’t take my eyes away from her. “Huh, who knew?”

“I did.”

Her smile is like sunshine after days of rain. It fills all the dark corners of my heart. It has the power to heal old wounds, to grow new skin over scabs, to erase scars. My reaction to her scares me and yet I want to hop over the counter between us and kiss her so badly it hurts. Being near her is like a balm and a burn, and I need to dial it way down, to rein in the wild, hungry beast clamoring for attention inside me. I can’t scare her off.

“Awkward.”Several flaps of wings follow the parrot’s nasal voice.

Daisy’s timely interjection stops me from doing something stupid. “I swear that’s not a parrot but the reincarnation of some old, meddling aunt.”

Jillian tilts her head and looks at Daisy. “You know, I had a great-aunt who died years before I was born, and her name was Daisy.”

The bird cackles.

TWENTY-THREE

Elliott

I sink into the couch.It’s comfortable in that way only well-worn and loved furniture can be. Molded by many years of use, bearing the scars of its history. A scratched corner where a cat used it to sharpen its nails, a reddish stain from a spilled cup of juice, and a handmade blanket draped over the arm.

Daisy balances on one foot, her talons gripping the wooden perch with effortless ease, the other holding a coconut chunk. The light streaming into the living room through the wide windows illuminates her vibrant green feathers, making her appear almost iridescent. Her round yellow eyes rest on me, and her head cocks slightly to the side. I return her gaze, mimicking the tilt of her head. She pauses her nibbling and stretches her wings, feathers fan in an arch, then without dropping her food, she turns her back on me. I chuckle and turn my attention to Jamie playing with toy horses on the coffee table between us, their plastic hooves galloping without the soundtrack anyother kid would provide to make the game more real. No clop-clop or neigh or snorting to accompany the tapping of plastic across the table as Jamie gets lost in his make-believe adventure.

I ruffle his hair. “You have a lot of horses. Which one is your favorite?”

He shows me the one in his hand and rolls his eyes. I can almost hear the duh sound in his head.

“Of course. That’s the one you’re playing with. Does he have a name?” I sign N A M E.

Jamie’s eyes widen and then he spells the horse’s name in sign language, never questioning the clumsy ASL skills I’ve been trying to learn in the last five days since my lunch date with Jillian. I pulled in my old college skills to memorize vast amounts of information in a short time and learned ASL for the entire alphabet and a few common words by watching YouTube videos when I should be working.

His fingers move slowly so I can follow. B A T M A N.

I laugh. “You named your horse Batman?”

He nods and runs a finger along the side of the white toy and then shows me the black marking on the figurine’s head, which resembles the Batman symbol.

“You are right. It does look like a bat. You picked the perfect name.”

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