Page 22 of A Bouquet of Dreams

“There’s a difference between believing in God and trusting in God. Can you honestly tell me that God wasn’t watching out for you when you landed alone in a new city? When you found a job in a flower shop? When you started winning contest after contest for your arrangements?” He leaned forward. “Culminating in winning Savannah Blooms, the most prestigious award in Georgia?”

How did he knowthat?

He read her mind. “Google.”

“Well, that and a dollar might buy you a cup of coffee. It doesn’t bring any job offers. I can attest to that.”

“Claire.” His eyes went soft and sweet on her again. “Those contests are recognition of your incredible talent. Something Rose had spotted in you from the day she met you.”

The thought struck her heavily, as hard as a kick to the gut. Chris was hitting in her most vulnerable places. But he wasn’t doing it to hurt her. He was speaking so tenderly, so kind and caring. She looked out the window at Chris’s Ford Mustang. She looked down at the cheap rug on the floor. She did whatever she could to contain herself. She felt as if she was holding back a closet door that was jam-packed. If she dared open it another inch, everything would come tumbling out.

“Look, about Rose. She wants you, Jaime, and Tessa to come to Sunrise. Jaime is back. I’ve found you. We’re trying to find Tessa. Time is of the essence.”

“Why? What’s the hurry?”

He shrugged, but he didn’t hold her gaze. “Rose says she wants to retire.”

“Since Jaime is back and wants the store, maybe Rose should just let her have it.” Claire tried her best to sound nonchalant, unconcerned, but she didn’t mean a word of it. That flower shop was part of her DNA.

“It’s not just about the shop. Rose has something important to tell all of you, and she wants to do it in person.”

“Why don’t you save everybody the trouble and just tell me?”

“Because this part of the story belongs to Rose.”

“Well, there’s really nothing more I need to know about that August night.”

From the look on his face, he didn’t believe her. “I think you do.”

“I was there too. I saw the fire start.”

“We all experience life a little differently. Our brains are different, our world experiences are different.”

“It’s hard to cast doubt on an eyewitness.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned back and said, “Let me tell you about The Dress Debate of 2015.”

She squinted. “What are you talking about?”

“A Scottish mother took a picture of a dress she was considering for her daughter’s upcoming wedding. She sent the picture to her daughter, and the two of them disagreed about the colors of the dress. So the daughter posted it on Facebook to get feedback from her friends, and it went viral. Crazytown viral. Some people saw it as white and gold, though it was actually blue and black. Finally, scientists figured out that the difference in perception had to do with how the brain perceives color, based on experience. It’s caused a huge stir in the scientific community, lots of studies trying to figure it out. I don’t think they’ve figured it out yet. It’s a perfect illustration of how our experiences shape how we perceive things. That’s the whole point, Claire. Things aren’t always the way they seem to be.”

He waited a while for her to respond, but she didn’t know what to say or how to say it. She felt as stuck as molasses on a January morning.

Chris shifted on the bean bag and pulled a folded envelope from his back pocket. He tossed it to her. “Your wad of savings. Money you left behind at Rose’s house. She’s been wanting you to have it.” He rose to his feet. He was thoughtful as he looked at her. “Go home to Sunrise, okay?”

“I can’t go back,” she said.

“No, you can’t go back. But you can go forward.” He cleared his throat as he walked to the door, almost as if he wanted to say more but choked the words down. He opened the door, then turned around to say, “It’s good to talk to God, Claire.”

She remained on the couch, but as soon as she heard the Mustang roar to life, she felt that old wound start festering. What was wrong with her? What was she trying to prove? She had nothing left. Nothing. No one. She looked around the dumpy little house.Is this how she was going to live the rest of her life? Lonely and alone.

Why couldn’t she swallow her pride and go back to Sunrise? Why not? She had nothing to lose that she hadn’t already lost.

She jumped off the couch and bolted to the door, opening it just as the Mustang drove off. She ran down the steps to try and catch Chris’s attention, but the muffler was too loud. He didn’t hear her calling or see her waving to him. The Mustang turned the corner and disappeared, the sound of a way back to Sunrise fading in the distance.

Slowly, she turned and went back into the house. She felt a shaky chill in her middle that spread throughout her body, despite the Savannah heat. She had just stood at a pivotal fork in the road, a right path and a wrong one, clear as a bell. And with her pride keeping her glued to the couch, she’d chosen the wrong one.

fourteen

---