Chapter 12
To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.
—Audrey Hepburn
As Claire left Same Day Delivery for the last time, MaryBeth reassured her that they’d stay in touch, that they’d see her each week at church, that they’d always be there for her. Claire thanked MaryBeth for everything she’d done for her, meaning it sincerely, all the while knowing that something had ended.
Outside the shop, she looked up. Despite the implosion of her life, the sun had carried on its business of heating the earth. She had a free afternoon, a blue sky, yet nowhere to go where worry wouldn’t find her. She felt a familiar looming pessimism settle in, like a houseguest who overstayed.
She started walking toward the Savannah River. It was ninety-five degrees out and who knew what the humidity was. She took a hair elastic out of her purse and twisted it around her curly hair, making a topknot that probably looked silly. But she couldn’t stand having it down in this heat.
Down by the riverfront, Claire walked past restaurants, souvenir shops, and T-shirt stores. The Savannah River cast a heavy, humid scent in the summertime. She stopped by the Olympic Torch and watched the slow-rolling river wind its way to the Atlantic. The Savannah River marked the border between Georgia and South Carolina.
Claire walked past a sleeping homeless man and then stopped. She dug into her purse and found a couple of dollars, then returned to tuck them into a cup he had left out for donations. She watched him for a while, wondering about him. When had things gone off the rails for this guy? Had he been young, like she was, when his hopes and dreams were yanked out from under him? Could this be her story one day? She felt as though something inside her had gotten turned in the wrong direction.
She tucked her chin and walked on.
Claire ended up back at her house, sweaty and tired from her walk to nowhere. She kicked off her shoes, changed out of her work clothes, then plopped on the couch to scroll her phone for job openings. Seeing that homeless guy scared her enough that she decided to look outside of flowers for other jobs. She found plenty of fast-food and dog-grooming jobs. Ick. Scrolling made her eyes tired, and she closed them for just a moment.
The doorbell rang, startling Claire out of a deep sleep. A moment had turned into an hour. Groggy and disoriented, she stumbled to the door to open it. There stood a sandy-haired young man on the doorstep. He looked like Prince Harry, but he couldn’t be. She blinked, rubbed her eyes. Man o’ man, this guy was cute.
“It’s me,” the man said, as if he sensed Claire’s dreamlike confusion. “Chris. Chris Reid.”
She slammed the door and dove back onto the couch, headfirst. The doorbell rang again. Paused. Rang again. Paused. Rang again.
He wasn’t going away.
She sat up, redid her topknot, grabbed some lipstick from her purse and put it on between ring five and ring seven, and opened the door, one hand on a hip. “How did you find me?”
“Abracadabra.” Chris waved his hand. “A little internet magic. While I was driving here today, I got to wondering if abracadabra was the very word God used in Genesis 1. You know...” He formed a fist with his hand and spread it suddenly, like an explosion. “Boom. To start everything going.”
What was happening? Who was this Bible-thumping Chris Reid? And why was he here? That’s the question she needed an answer to. “What are you doing here?”
He held out an envelope to her. “Rose wanted you to have something.”
Claire’s eyes went wide. Another betrayal! “You promised you wouldn’t tell her where I was.”
“Actually, I didn’t promise. You just told me to promise not to tell her. But I did honor your request. I didn’t let her know where you are. But I did let her know that I saw you.”
Claire took the envelope from him. There was her name written in Rose’s neat handwriting. She’d always loved Rose’s distinctive cursive. She looked up and noticed an old Ford Mustang parked in front of her house. Seriously? He still drove that thing? She’d forgotten all about it. He had straight piped the exhaust so everyone in town could hear him coming from two blocks away. “You drove all the way from Sunrise to bring me this envelope?”
“I did. Whatever its contents, it’s supposed to be important. Rose said so, anyway. She’s had it for a while, but she didn’t know where to send it. When I told her I’d seen you, she asked me to deliver it.”
Slowly, Claire opened the envelope and pulled out the handwritten note to read. In it, Rose asked Claire to consider returning to Sunrise because she was planning to retire soon and wanted her to take over the flower shop. She said she was making the same offer to Jaime and Tessa. However, she said, each of the girls would have to enter a flower contest and win it. She wrote that she wanted to make sure each girl still had the fire in her belly for running a flower shop.
Fire in her belly? Claire? She’d always had a flaming inferno in her belly. Until this week.
The last line in Rose’s letter gave Claire goose bumps. All is forgiven, Rose wrote. It’s time to come home.
Sure. Right. As if forgiveness was that simple. Snap your fingers and it’s done. Twenty-five years may not be a lifetime, but Claire had already learned that lesson. Forgiveness wasn’t like a switch to turn on and off. Innocence was not something you could get back.
Claire folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Chris had been patiently waiting for her to read it. She glanced at him. He looked really hot. The sun was beating down. She should probably invite him in. Offer him a glass of sweet tea.
He tipped his head. “Claire, you look...”
She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he was about to say. She didn’t look great, she knew that. She was wearing a floppy old T-shirt and cutoff shorts, and her hair was springing out of its topknot. But if he said anything rude, she would slam the door in his face.
The expression on his face didn’t say rude. It was soft, his eyes kind. Even his voice sounded tender. “You look ... like someone who could use a friend.”
Sympathy from Chris Reid, of all people, completely took her off guard. She felt tears start rising in her throat. Do not cry, do not cry. She hated to cry in front of people! And Chris Reid was top of her list.
He reached out to touch her arm. “So, what’s really going on?”
Chris’s softness touched Claire in a way that sharpness never could. “I don’t know.” Claire framed her cheeks with her hands. “I just don’t know anything anymore.”