BLOOMING

“May I help you?”

Abby turned to face a man in khaki shorts covered by a green work apron. He was smiling at her kindly, as if he sensed she was at a complete loss.

“Yes... I want to buy a plant.”

His smiled widened. “You’ve come to the right place.”

“Right.” A blush stained her cheeks as she nodded. She was, after all, in a garden centre. How thick could she sound?

The man wasn’t laughing at her, though, just smiling in a friendly way. He had sandy hair and hazel eyes, and, Abby noticed, dirt under his fingernails.

He must have seen the way her gaze traveled for he spread his hands, grinning. “Sorry. I’ve been repotting seedlings. Hazards of the job, I’m afraid.”

Abby began to stammer some sort of apology but he shrugged it off, continuing smoothly, “what sort of plant are you looking for?”

“Something easy.” She’d never gardened in her life, having lived only in a city flat with a tiny

terrace. Of course, that was all over now... had it ever been more than a glamourous dream?

It hadn’t really been her dream, though.

“You’re new to gardening?”

“You could say that. I haven’t had much success so far, anyway.” The few houseplants she’d tried to nurture in their old flat had died within days.

Ben had seemed to think it was some kind of joke. “You can’t keep anything alive, Abby.’ Which was true, she acknowledged. She hadn’t kept their marriage alive, at any rate.

“I’ve just moved,” she explained, “I’m renting a house and there’s a little garden. Tiny, really. It’s pitiful at the moment, but I thought...” She trailed off uncertainly.

“You wanted to make it more homey?”

“Something like that.” She nodded. Why was this so difficult? This man must think she was an idiot. All she was doing was looking for a plant, yet somehow it made everything seem so final. Perhaps even more final than the divorce papers Ben had served her.

The terraced house with its peeling paint and weed-infested garden was her home now. Her home alone.

The flat had been Ben’s, his bachelor pad until they got married. It had gone with his lifestyle as a solicitor, flashy and on the rise. Abby had originally hoped to move, find a more neutral ground to begin their life together.

Ben had been incredulous. “Are you kidding, Abby? Do you know how much these high-rises cost? It’s an investment. Besides, I don’t want to live anywhere else.”

Looking back, Abby wondered why she hadn’t resisted. Her friends hadn’t liked Ben, but she convinced herself they were just jealous. Her mother had been thrilled.

“A solicitor? And so charming!”

On the outside, maybe.

“Let me show you some of our bedding plants,” the man said now. ”As long as you water them regularly, they shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

The man, who Abby could see from his name tag was

called David, led her through rows of wooden palettes brimming with plants and flowers. “Most people kill off their plants accidentally, by giving them too much care,” David continued with a quick smile over his shoulder. “Too much fertiliser, or water, or plant food. You’d be surprised how things thrive when they’re left to themselves.”

Actually, Abby thought, she wasn’t surprised. Ben had ended their marriage, accusing her of suffocating him. And, she acknowledged, she had grown clingy. Perhaps she’d known he was slipping away from her, so she’d dug her heels in. A stupid response, and she cringed when she thought of how she’d pleaded with him.

No more, she decided. This was her new start. New house, new plants, new life.

“Of course, the other problem people have is they choose the wrong environment for their plants. These fuschias, for example...” he touched a bushy plant with deep pink flowers, “need to be in full shade. These marigolds, on the other hand, like a lot of bright sun. You definitely need the right environment to thrive.”

True enough, Abby thought grimly. Only now, looking back, could she see how her spirit had withered under Ben’s cold attentions.

“What’s your garden like?”

“Small and weedy.” Abby made a face.

“Sounds like it needs some work.” David grinned. “But actually, I meant is it shady or sunny?”

“Oh, right. Umm... it’s mostly sunny, I guess. The weeds certainly seem to like it.” She hadn’t spent much time out there, even if in a fleeting moment of fantasy she’d imagined it filled with flowering plants, a deck chair or two... She suddenly imagined her and David sitting on the tiny patio, the remains of a meal and a bottle of wine between them.

Abby shook her head to clear the sudden, tempting thought, and David raised his eyebrows. “It’s not sunny?”

“No, it is. It is,” she said hurriedly. “I haven’t spent much time out there yet, but I hope to.”

“New place?”

She nodded. “Yes, a fresh start, you could say.”

“I understand.” He turned back to the plants. “What about this one, then?” He picked up a potted plant with tight clusters of red buds and orange flowers. “Butterfly weed, but it’s not really a weed. It likes sunshine and well drained soil. Pretty easy to care

for, too.”

“It’s beautiful.” Abby admired the bright colors, and she definitely wanted something easy.

“Butterfly weed symbolizes rebirth and healing,” David continued. “Fresh starts, right?”

He handed her the pot, and Abby’s hands closed around

it. “Absolutely.”

“It also attracts butterflies, hence the name. An added bonus.” David dusted his hands on his apron. “Can I get anything else for you?”

“Well, I could perhaps get a few more plants,” Abby said hesitantly, reluctant to leave so soon. “A little variety is a good thing.”

“Definitely. Well...” David looked around. “What

about some violets? White are nice, they take a bit more care. Do you think you’re up to it? And zinnias add a nice mix...”

Before Abby knew it, she was loaded up with a variety

of flowers and plants. “This should definitely do it,” she said with a smile as they walked together towards the till. “Do you know all the meanings of the different plants?”

“Mostly. Makes it more interesting. The zinnias symbolise thoughts of absent friends. Nice to send to someone you haven’t seen in awhile.”

“If they know what it means,” Abby said, and David

chuckled.

“True enough. They might need a heavy handed hint.”

“And what about the violets?”

David’s smile was whimsical as he handed her back her credit card. “They mean ‘let’s take a chance’.”

“Oh.” Abby stared at her butterfly weed plant, completely tongue tied.

“Speaking of...” David said lightly, and Abby looked up to meet his eyes.

“Yes?”

“My shift ends in ten minutes. Would you like to go out for a cup of coffee, or lunch?”

Abby fingered the soft white petal of the violet. Fresh starts, new chances. She felt ready. “That sounds wonderful.”

....END

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Copyright © 2008 by Katharine Swartz