Page 36 of When Wildflowers Bloom

When I open my eyes, she’s smiling, and so am I.

“Now that that’s over, let’s turn this thing into something, shall we?”

After I successfully make a small bowl, we eat lunch, weed her garden, and start our last hour of the day together in the kitchen. Veda sits at the table, hands wrapped in the puffy warming gloves I bought, quietly watching as I do dishes.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say without looking at her.

“Bo likes you.”

Thehere we go againgroan her words provoke is instant and irritated.

“You have to listen to me talk because I’m paying you and I’m incapacitated with these stupid hot boxing gloves, so you listen,” she says sharply. “Andyou like him.”

I open my mouth to defend myself, but the look she gives me stops me cold.

“You like him, and I know what you said—about the testing and your family history and you being some kind of oracle predicting your own death.” At these words, I glare at her, because—what the hell? Through clenched teeth, myVedagoes unheard. As much as I want to remind her that the two greatest indicators of my genetic predisposition died at the same age as me, nothing suppresses herdrive to keep going. “But we’re all dying, Birdie. Today, tomorrow, the day after that. We will all say goodbye or get said goodbye to. You can’t outrun it by forcing your aloneness on everyone. That’s a damn goodbye all in itself! Worse, even—a goodbye before hello.” Then, with her hands shoved in big purple puffs on the table, she’s quiet.

I feel more than naked standing in her kitchen as we look at each other. Like my clothes, skin, and bones have been ripped away to reveal whatever it means to be human, and this woman sees it.Me. My aloneness.

“Veda,” I start, through gritted teeth. “We’re friends. As an oracle”—I scowl at her—“I know I can’t get involved with him because of what will likely happen, but did it ever occur to you it’s not what he wants?” I raise my eyebrows. “He doesn’t want anything more because of Mandy. So even if you were right, you aren’t, not really. There’s nothing here. He says he wants to help me—apparently everyone thinks I’m some kind of loser that can’t manage my life—but I’m fine. And he’s nice. That’s all this is.”

She scoffs. “Well, he’s as stupid as you are.”

I glare at her,again, with words that I’ll regret starting to form in my throat before I shove them down.

“I’m going to put the towels away,” I mutter, grabbing the laundry basket and walking out of the kitchen and down the short hall to the bathroom.

At the sink, I splash water on my face and smack my hands against the counter so hard the medicine cabinet door swings open from thevibration of it.

I take a deep breath, trying to level out my frustration, and splash water on my face again.

I lift my chin, face-to-face with the open medicine cabinet, and freeze.

Pills.

Lots of them.

I shouldn’t, but I pull the door fully open and pick up one of the many opaque orange bottles,Veda Monroewritten on it, before putting it back. Then I pick up another. And another. I don’t recognize the names of anything, but there are at least a dozen different prescriptions lined up in front of me.

I close the door quietly, my heart pounding in my ears.

Something is wrong. Does arthritis need this much medication? I don’t think so. Does Bo know about all these? He just asked if something was wrong; surely he would have mentioned this much medicine.

I put the towels away, schooling my expression before walking back to the kitchen.

She’s waiting, hands now out of the gloves.

“How about some tea?” she asks, like we didn’t just almost get into a catfight. Like there isn’t a cabinet full of mystery medication just waiting down the hall.

“Okay,” I say with a forced smile, grabbing the box I brought.

Silence is our conversation for the rest of the day.

Eleven

“Bonnie, did I evertell you about the Donut Dollies in ’ Nam?” Sam asks. His voice is a loud gruff sound as I organize his piles of mail on the coffee table, cane leaning on his lap.

In all my time spent with Sam, he’s told me so much about Vietnam sometimes I swear I was there with him. The Donut Dollies might be the first topic I don’t recognize.

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