Page 38 of House of Crimson Hearts
“And so the flowers?”
“Sorry. I.” I scratch my head and wipe a hand over my face, furious with myself for getting flustered for the second time today in front of this woman.
“I brought them as an apology. Because of my rudeness.”
“Well, I don’t think you rude at all. But the gesture is quite lovely. I think the bunch suits me beautifully, don’t you?”
“Yes, actually. It wasn't until I’d returned here that I realised I’d picked flowers that match your eyes.”
“You picked them yourself?”
Heat rises up my neck. I feel like I’ve been caught out, as if she’s accusing and I should be denying.
“I did. It was the right thing to do.”
She bustles around the shop, hunting high and low for a vase. In the end, she tips out a huge jar, chucking the herbs on the desk and walks out the back of the shop. When she returns the jar is full of water and she pops the flowers into it.
As she returns to stand in front of me, she presses her lips together. “Why did you flinch away from me this morning? Why did you run? Was it my touch? Would you prefer that I didn’t examine you with my bare hands? I have gloves you see… I can?—”
“No.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t that at all. Quite the opposite in fact.”
“The opposite…?”
I shift on the stool, uncomfortable with admitting the real reason. Uncomfortable even acknowledging it to myself. I want to lie. To hide away from the truth, but it wells inside my chest, a growing swarm of realisation that needs to be released.
“I didn’t hate it. I found it quite pleasing. And that… it, well. I was surprised by that because you’re…”
“A woman?” she asks.
I nod and look away, suddenly embarrassed to have made such a confession. She bustles around me. When I look up, she’s arranging the flowers again.
“Do you know, I don’t think I’ve seen such beautiful flowers in a long time. And more, I don’t think I’ve been given such pretty things since… well… my ex, really.”
“You have an ex-partner?” I say, shocked. That’s not something that I’ve heard of. A woman without a husband having casual partners.
“Yes, she used to love giving me flowers. But unfortunately, she would only do it after we’d had an argument.”
My world narrows to a pinpoint. All I can do is focus on her words repeating over and over in my head. Eleanor saidshe.
She.
She.
She.
“I’m sorry, your ex was a… a…?
“A woman, yes.”
I’m stunned into silence. I open my mouth but only a breathy whisper comes out.
“Is that… is that okay?” she says, her cheeks suddenly pink. “I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so free with the information. It’s just that in our culture, that’s not so much of an issue. I understand that for you the expectation is?—”
My words return, surging like a tidal wave. I have to understand more.
“What was it like? You know… to be with a woman? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
She shrugs, her colour draining back to normal. “It was quite wonderful. To be so understood. To have someone whose energy flowed with mine. It’s more intense, more intimate. Our connection wasn’t just of the heart, it went as deep as our souls. It was simply, love.”
