Love in Bloom (37 page)

She started for the other side of the bed, but Altheus motioned her over next to him. “Come over here where she can see you.”

Hope fought down the panic and forced herself to smile as she took her place by Millie's side. “How are you doing?”

Millie's voice was softly slurred. Hope had to lean in close to hear her. It sounded like she said, “Fine.”

“Don't worry about your garden,” Hope told her. “We'll take care of it while you're busy getting better.”

Millie mumbled something and shut her eyes.

“She'll be better tomorrow,” Altheus said, giving Millie's hand a gentle squeeze.

The next day, Millie did look a little better, and, by mid-week, when Hope and Amber came to visit, she was eating. Her speech was still slurred, and she'd lost the sight in one eye and was paralyzed on one side, but Altheus was insisting that, with some physical therapy, she'd soon be right as rain.

“If you girls will excuse me, I have some places to check,” he said to Hope and Amber. “The hospital is kicking her out soon.”

“That's wonderful news,” Amber said as he left. “By the way, your garden is doing great. You should see it. Everything's blooming.”

Millie managed a smile with half of her face. “I think my . . . gardening days are over,” she slurred, and Hope had to swallow down a lump in her throat.

“But you can recover,” Amber insisted.

Millie shut her eyes. “I've had a full life.”

“You're talking like people do in the movies when they're going to die,” Amber protested.

“It . . . happens to all of us if we live long enough.”

Amber reached out and caressed her drooping face. “Not you. Not yet.”

Millie kept her eyes shut. It was as if the work of keeping them open was too hard. “You'll be fine now, dear. Hang on to that husband.” She fell silent. Just when Hope had decided she was asleep and was about to suggest they leave, she spoke again. “Hope.”

“I'm here,” Hope said, squeezing her hand.

“Promise me . . .”

“Anything,” said Hope.

“No Shasta daisies at my funeral. Those . . . smell awful.”

“Millie, that's not funny,” Hope scolded.

“And find . . . someone to love.”

Where had that come from? “Oh, Millie.”

“Don't let the past steal from the future. Life is . . . short. But it can be sweet.” She sighed a rattling sigh and a moment later she was asleep.

Amber and Hope sat with her all afternoon, but she never woke up.

And, two days later, just before Altheus was going to move her to a nursing home, she suffered a second heart attack and died.

After getting the news, Hope drove to her favorite hiking spot in the Cascades and spent the day wandering along forest trails, looking for new growth. Once she spotted a lady's slipper. The delicate woodland flower was a rare sighting, and she knelt and took a picture of it. “You look like you belong in Millie's garden.”

Life is short.

Hope stood and sighed. Yes, it was, and right now it wasn't very sweet. She brought up the picture of the lady's slipper and it danced onto the camera screen. Well, here was a little something sweet to savor. She'd enlarge this picture and frame it.

Millie's memorial ser vice was set for Wednesday afternoon, July second. Hope supposed Altheus had picked that day because he feared that people would leave town over the holiday weekend. Few ever did. Most Heart Lake residents enjoyed hanging out for the festivities. Even with people still in town, Hope worried that the funeral wouldn't be well attended. Millie hardly knew anyone.

She was surprised when orders for flowers started coming in: from Altheus, of course, and Amber, but also from the Lakeside Congregational Church women's ministry, and the teller at the bank. And then the orders started flying in from out of town. Millie's friend, Alice, wanted a hydrangea that Altheus could plant in his wife's honor. Millie's old garden club sprang for a basketful of plants, also to go to the new husband. The parade of names continued, people ordering arrangements, potted plants, wanting help with just the right words to say to a new and grieving husband.

“The church is going to look like a garden,” Bobbi said that morning as they finished the last of the orders.

“Millie will like that.” Hope slipped orange gladiolus in behind a grouping of gerberas and roses. She could feel the tears coming. In another moment, she was going to be watering these flowers.

Bobbi slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I'm sorry. It probably feels like losing Grandma all over again.”

“I hate losing cool people from my life,” Hope grumbled.

“At least two of the coolest people we know are still here.”

Hope knew exactly where she was going and couldn't help smiling. “Us?”

“Yep.” Bobbi turned serious. “I'm glad you're still here.”

“Me, too,” said Hope. “Now, let's get these arrangements finished and over to the church.”

Bobbi drove the little PT Cruiser very carefully—hey, she could be taught—to the church. All the way, she kept thinking about her sister. Hope so deserved to be happy. Why did she insist on working so hard to make other people's lives good, and then let her own go untended? All the way back from delivering the flowers, Bobbi chewed on how she could manage to get Hope a life. There was only one way to do it, really. Someone had to tell Jason what Hope's problem was.

“Oh, boy,” Bobbi muttered. Someone—not Hope, who'd be too mad—would be doing flowers for Bobbi's funeral if Hope found out about this. Bobbi parked the little PT Cruiser in back of the shop and sneaked the few feet to where Jason and his crew were working.

Except Jason wasn't there. “Where is he?” she asked Duke. She had to find him fast, before Hope found out.

“He's over at the Smith job on the lake,” said Duke. He frowned. “Whaddya need to see him for?”

“I have to tell him something important about Hope.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Never mind. Just give me the address.”

Duke was still frowning, but he rattled off an address.

She kissed him on the cheek and scampered back to the Cruiser. Hopefully, with all the banging and sawing, Hope had never heard her pull up. It would be hard to explain why she left with an empty delivery car.

She found Jason at the site, talking with a man who was holding a blueprint. When Jason saw Bobbi, he detached himself and walked over mounds of dirt and stacks of wood bits to where she stood. He didn't look all that excited to see her, but he asked politely, “Did you need something?”

“Not me,” she said, “but my sister does.”

That got him curious. “Oh?”

“She needs you.”

Jason rolled his eyes and started to turn away.

Bobbi caught his arm. “Seriously. You have to know why she doesn't want anything to do with you.”

Now she had his full attention. “I'm listening.”

“She had cancer.”

His features took on an oh-no look. “The book on cancer. It was hers. I should have figured that out. God,” he added softly. “What kind?”

“Breast. She lost one.”

He stood there staring at Bobbi like he didn't understand what she'd just said.

“Did you get that?” she asked, giving his arm a shake.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got it. Is she okay?”

“She's as okay as a woman can be who's had two surgeries: one to get a fake boob, the other to make it look good. It still doesn't as far as she's concerned and she's got scarring. It's why she doesn't want things to go any further with you, even though she's in love with you.”

Jason clawed his fingers through his hair. “Why didn't you tell me this earlier?”

“You think she would have let me? You think she even knows I'm here now? Look, the only reason I'm telling you this is because I think you and my sister belong together. And you'd be lucky to get her,” Bobbi added, in case he hadn't figured that out. “So, now you know. Don't tell her I told you. I want to live to see thirty.”

“What am I supposed to tell her?” Jason held out his hands, the picture of male helplessness. Really, women had to do all their thinking for them.

“Tell her you put two and two together. Do something romantic with flowers. That'll help. Oh, and first hypnotize her and convince her she's pretty.” With that, she left Jason to figure out where to go from there. She'd done all she could. It was up to him now.

 

THE SANCTUARY WASN
'
T
packed, but it was respectably filled, probably with church members who wanted to rally around their newest member, Hope decided. Next to her, Amber was sniffing into a big ball of tissue. “I hope you're going to share,” Hope whispered, and Amber peeled off a couple of sheets and passed them over.

Debra and her children and two men who were probably Millie's sons sat up front in a separate pew, leaving Altheus to grieve alone. “That woman will be lucky if anyone comes to her funeral,” Amber hissed.

Hope had seen enough of Debra at the hospital to convince her that, after Millie gave birth, the baby must have gotten switched.

“They'll probably throw rocks at her from the other side of the pearly gates,” Amber continued.

“All but Millie,” Hope whispered back. “She'll be there with a plate of lavender cookies.”

That made Amber burst into noisy sobs and set Hope's tears to flowing, too.

The minister commanded everyone to rise and sing Millie's favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace.” How appropriate, thought Hope. She was all about extending grace.

The minister summed up Millie's life in ten minutes, finishing with, “And everyone here came to love her. We're all a little better for having known Millie.”

Hope closed her eyes and saw Millie standing in her garden, wearing her purple outfit and her flowered garden gloves, waving. “Don't forget,” she called. “Go and find someone to love.” Hope's eyes popped open.

Now one of her sons came up to the podium. He ran a finger along his shirt collar and cleared his throat. “Reading from the book of Relevation.”

Someone snickered.

He cleared his throat again. “That would be Revelation. ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. They will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.' Rest in peace, Mom. You've done a lot of good. You deserve it.”

That's for sure, thought Hope, as Amber blew her nose.

“At this time, the family would love it if some of you would share how much Millie meant to you,” said the pastor.

Amber didn't hesitate to stand. “We just moved here this spring and I didn't know anyone. Millie adopted me. She was like a grandmother. She shared recipes and taught me how to garden. She was awesome,” Amber finished on a sob and sat back down.

Another person stood up, an older woman. “I still remember Millie bringing me chicken soup when I was sick.”

“She came to my baby shower and brought me flowers from her garden,” said a woman. “My baby had colic. She showed me how to carry him so he'd feel better. I wish I'd had a chance to know her better.”

On and on the testimonials went. Hope had just worked up her
courage to stand and say something when the pastor cut them off. “Let's close with Millie's other favorite song, ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.' ”

“I should have said something,” she told Amber as they stood.

“You did,” Amber said, and pointed to the huge arrangement of flowers from Hope sitting by Millie's picture.

The churchwomen had put together a salad buffet, and so everyone trooped to the fellowship hall to sit on cold metal chairs and balance paper plates on their laps. Debra had positioned her brothers and herself near the doorway to accept condolences. Her children stood beside her, dressed in black. Both had red-rimmed eyes and looked like they wanted to be somewhere else. Poor Altheus hovered over by a table on the far side of the room, keeping the punch bowl company.

“I'm going to go give him a hug,” said Amber. “You deal with the poop princess. You'll be nicer.”

Hope started out nice. “Your mom was an amazing woman,” she said to Debra.

Debra was a wreck. Her eyes were so red, she looked like a vampire. Her eyeliner had run, leaving ugly brown trails down her cheeks. She nodded and yanked back a sob.

“We're all going to miss her,” Hope continued.

“I just can't believe she's gone,” Debra said, her words coming out jerkily. “I feel so alone,” she added, looking off at nothing.

This woman couldn't seem to sing more than one note: me, me, me. “Well, you don't have to be,” Hope said with enough sharpness to make Debra blink in surprise. She took Debra by the arms and turned her so she could see Altheus on the far side of the room. “He loved her, too, and he's all alone. Just like you.”

Debra's eyes widened, then narrowed, changing her from the mourning daughter to Dragon Lady. Now she was going to breathe fire and fry Hope to a crisp.

Let her try. Hope wasn't done. “Maybe if you start working at it
now, you can be like her someday and make her proud. You could start by being nice to the man she loved.”

Debra was staring at her in shock. Hope was a little shocked herself. Had all that just come out of her mouth? “Uh, sorry for your loss,” she said, and made a hasty retreat to the safety of the punch bowl.

“What did you just say to Debra?” asked Amber as Hope hugged Altheus. “She looked like she was about to go into conniptions.”

“I was just offering my condolences,” said Hope. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

On the way home, they stopped by the community garden and had their own little ceremony, just the two of them. They picked some of Millie's pansies and sprinkled the petals over both their gardens, and they each cut a flower to take home and press and dry.