Chapter 11
Indie
You looked beautiful up there. As you always do.
I tuck the little note back into the paper sleeve and push the vase aside.
Who the hell sends flowers to a flower shop? Okay, I know it’s technically a garden center , but still.
Last night, I played a few songs at The Rusty Spur. I felt a little out of my element at first, but that feeling went away pretty quickly. About halfway through my last song, Wild and his damn ‘just rolled out of bed’ hair showed up.
It’s not unusual to see him or his sister around when I perform. But lately, things have felt different between us. Seeing him smile at me while I sang caused a little flurry to grow in my chest.
I thought we were finally going to be adults since we’ve been getting along lately—but then he went and proved me wrong with his nicknames. I don’t hate most of them, but there’s one I can’t stand, and I hate when he uses it.
“Those are pretty! Who are they from?” Lucy comes around the counter and leans down to smell the red roses in the glass vase.
“I’m not sure,” I lie.
I have a good feeling they are from the same guy who brought me flowers last night and looked uncomfortable about it after the fact.
Maybe he thought I didn’t like them and thought I’d like these better? Perhaps he’s sorry for being a dick?
“Well, they’re gorgeous.” Tears well in Lucy’s eyes.
“Alright, Preggers, get outta here. They’re just flowers. No need to shed tears over ‘em,” I add, pushing her towards her office door.
“Sorry,” she laughs, wiping at the tears. “These hormones are next level, I swear to God.”
She’s not lying. These last few weeks with the pregnant woman have proven just how crazy her hormones are right now.
Last week, a bird landed in the parking lot and started pecking at the fry someone left on the ground. She was a blubbering mess, going on and on about the poor bird who had to fend for itself. She was half a second away from getting in her vehicle and going to buy damn birdseed. Thankfully, her husband, Cal, walked in just then and fully distracted her. If we don’t start selling birdseed in the very near future, I’ll be shocked.
Following behind her into the small office, I close the door with a soft click.
“So about that vehicle you’re sellin’. If I could come by after work today and check it out, I’d like to buy it from you. Don’t try to give me no damn ‘friend discount’ either. I’m payin’ what you were askin’ for it,” I declare with a pointed look.
Lucy nods and plops down in the old, brown swivel chair behind her desk. The newer computer in front of her looks out of place in the dated room. She and Cal have done a bit of remodeling over the last several months, but she hasn’t gotten to this room yet. It looks fresh out of the nineties—minus the computer; Luce was about to put a golf club through the old one.
“Okay. I could just have Cal bring it over now if you want. I’m sure he’s itching for any excuse to come over here and check in on me.” She smiles at the mention of her husband.
Lucy isn’t far along, but already she’s the cutest damn pregnant woman I’ve ever seen. Her tiny frame will be so cute when she gets her bump. Babies aren’t for me, but I’m very happy for my glowing friend.
After setting up everything with Lucy for the car, I walk back out to the main floor room and see a woman through the glass door. She’s leisurely browsing through the mums lining the racks out front of the shop.
The fall and winter seasons aren’t typically busy here, so I jump at the opportunity to interact with someone. Not that I care for people all that much, but it sure makes the day go a lot faster.
“Can I help you with anything?” I ask, startling the woman.
She jumps back and puts her hand on her chest. “Oh! Goodness, you scared me,” she laughs. She has a friendly face and long chestnut hair hanging over her shoulders.
“Sorry about that,” I respond, smiling at the woman.
“I’m just looking for some mums.” Her voice drifts off as she leans into the flowers and inhales them softly. “These are all so beautiful. Do you have any yellow ones?” she asks, glancing over at me.
“We might have some more out back. Did you wanna walk with me?” I question, holding the door open.
“Sure, I’d love to see what else you have back there.” She follows me out to the back of the store, where we have all sorts of yard decor and plants.
“Oh, these are perfect!” she announces, grabbing the small basket of bright yellow mums from the metal rack.
“Great. If you need anything else, just let me know,” I offer, starting to walk back toward the door of the building.
“Nope. This is all I need. Not a lot of room to store more than this when I travel,” she states, carrying the bucket of flowers in the crook of her arm.
“You take your flowers with you when you travel?” I ask, slightly confused and trying not to sound too judgy.
She laughs at my expression. “I run the traveling women’s screening clinic. I like to set flowers out in front. Makes it feel more welcoming and less… doctor-y,” she chuckles. “And yellow is the color of new beginnings, hope, and happiness. All the things these women need when they are coming to see me.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” I nod, mulling over what she said.
We walk back inside the store just as Lucy pops out of her office. Her face is a light shade of green, and her hand is cupped over her mouth as she darts toward the bathroom.
“She’s alright,” I clarify, facing the woman. “Mornin’ sickness.”
“I see it almost every day,” the woman admits with a slight nod. “Our travel clinic mostly sees pregnant women since we offer free prenatal screenings. Most of them get past that symptom after the first trimester.”
“Not all?” I ask as I grab the flowers and scan the basket.
“Unfortunately, no. Some women are sick all the way up until delivery.” She slides her card into the machine.
The thought of being sick for so long makes me shudder. The sacrifices mothers make for their children start way before they even get here.
“Dadgummit,” I exhale as the monitor in front of me starts to act up.
“Is something wrong?” the woman asks, peering over the counter at the screen in front of me.
“Just this computer,” I say, clicking all the buttons. “It freaks out sometimes when customers pay with a card. Which is like ninety percent of the time.”
“Oh, I might have some cash,” she offers, opening her purse again.
“Don’t worry about it—card will be fine. We just have to wait for the H.B.I.C. to get back out here. She seems to have the magic touch with this one.”
“The what?” Her brows knit closer together.
“Sorry, bad habit,” I laugh. “We have to wait for the owner.”
I glance over at the restroom door, hoping that Lucy is going to magically appear right on time—but she doesn’t. I know this morning sickness has been kicking her ass.
“So, you’re a doctor then?” I ask, trying to start up a conversation while we wait for Lucy—awkward silence is the worst.
“I am,” she nods in confirmation. “I started the travel clinic a few years ago. It’s stressful, but it’s very rewarding being able to help all the women who can’t afford health insurance or can’t make it all the way into the city to see a doctor.”
Her words hit home. If my mom would have found something like this while she was pregnant with me, she may still be here today. A screening could have caught her condition early on. Instead, she did the best she could, only to lose her life to something she never knew she was battling.
All of a sudden, I have a strong urge to learn more about what this woman does.
“How does it work? If the women don’t have to pay anything, how are you able to make money and provide the services?”
“A few different ways. But my favorite is doing charity fundraiser events. We not only raise money, but we spread awareness as well. You’d be surprised how many people have no idea about this sort of thing.”
When I asked the question, I was sure there wasn’t any way I could help besides maybe making a donation. But now I feel there is more I could do.
“Do you have any fundraisers comin’ up?”
“I was hoping to have something soon. I don’t have much in the works as of yet,” she answers, pausing to study me. “Did you want to participate in something?”
“Well, I’m not sure how much help I would be. But I did help do a fundraiser here at the store the last couple of years… I could also donate some paintings to auction off or somethin’. Or I could even sing?” I shrug.
Her face lights up with my suggestions.
“That would be fantastic! I tell you what, why don’t we exchange numbers, and we can work out all the details once I figure more out myself?”
After exchanging numbers with the woman, whose name I learned is Megan, Lucy reappeared and fixed the computer for us.
“Have a great day, Indie,” Megan beams, tucking the receipt into her purse and grabbing the bright yellow mums from the counter.
“You too,” I smile.
She walks out the door, leaving me with a mix of feelings.
I can’t believe I agreed to do something like this. It’s not something I’d typically do. But when she was talking to me, I felt this strong pull that I was supposed to step in and offer help any way that I could.
There’s an excited flurry in my chest as I go back to straightening shelves and tending to the plants inside.
“She’s all yours,” Cal says, placing the keys into my hand.
“Thanks. If you sold me a lemon, you’ll be hearin’ from me,” I warn teasingly.
“Dad barely drove this thing, and Luce didn’t drive it much either. Practically brand-new. Shouldn’t have any problems,” he responds dryly.
“I know. Just hasslin’ ya. Thanks for this.” I motion to the car and look between Cal and Lucy. “Y’all have a good night.”
Like a kid in a candy store, I excitedly climb into the car that is now mine .
Please let this one last me more than a few months.
Starting the engine, I reverse out of the parking spot and pull out onto the paved road. I checked that all of the amenities inside worked, but right now, I need some fresh air blowing through my hair.
I haven’t had my own vehicle in a long time. The freedom it provides is something I really missed. I’ve gone too long relying on others for rides or walking wherever I needed to go.
Pulling into the dirt driveway at home, I notice a car with its brights on coming up on the road behind me. It’s barely even dark out, so the brights really make no sense.
I sit unmoving in my parking spot in front of the house, watching out my rearview mirror as the car idles behind me on the road. Grabbing my vase of flowers, I glance back in the mirror and see the car slowly starting to creep by.
Fuck this.
I throw the door open and hop out. “Can I help you with somethin’?” I yell toward the car, placing a hand on my hip while the other holds my vase of roses—the only weapon I had at the moment.
The car doesn’t move as I begin to approach it. I’m not fucking scared, and I refuse to let them intimidate me—especially at my own home.
“Who is that?” Wild’s voice catches me off guard, and I turn towards the front door of the house, where he stands, propping the screen door open.
“I don’t fuckin’ know, but I’m fixin’ to find out.”
Just as I begin to take a step toward the car again, it takes off down the street.
“Fuckin’ kids,” I curse under my breath.
Wilder jogs up beside me, a frantic look on his face. “Please tell me you were not about to confront a strange car that followed you home. Alone… in the dark,” he peers down at my hands, “unarmed.”
“I’d fuck their shit up so fast with this vase; they’d never see it comin’.”
He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fuckin’ hell, Ind. You can’t approach random vehicles like that.” The stern look on his face pisses me off. I don’t need him telling me what to do.
“Trust me, I know how to handle myself. Been doin’ fine so far,” I retort. “Besides, what do you care?” I scoff.
He remains silent for a beat, the worried look on his face slowly fading.
“You’re fuckin’ impossible, woman.” He shakes his head, turning his back to me as he walks back into the house.
I’m perfectly aware of the fact that my approach to a lot of things isn’t the way most people would do it. But—and I can’t stress this enough—I don’t give a shit. I’ve never been the timid type or the one to back down from anything. The people who accept me for me will still be here, and the rest can all piss off for all I care.