There now," she said to the flowers in an encouraging tone, "you have food and air. You'll be very happy and pretty in no time."
"Are you talking to the " Ian asked from behind her.
Elizabeth started and turned around on an embarrassed laugh. "They like it when I talk to them." Knowing how peculiar that sounded, she reinforced it by adding, "Our gardener used to say all living things need affection, and that includes flowers." Turning back to the garden, she shoveled the last of the compost around the flowers, then she stood up and brushed off her hands. Her earlier ruminations about him had abolished so much of her antagonism that as she looked at him now she was able to regard him with perfect equanimity. It occurred to her, though, that it must seem odd to him that a guest was rooting about in his garden like a menial. "I hope you don't mind," she said, nodding toward the garden, "but the flowers couldn't breathe with so many weeds choking them. They were crying out for a little room and sustenance."
An indescribable expression flashed across his face. "You them?"
"Of course not," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. "But I did take the liberty of fixing a special meal-well, compost, actually-for them. It won't help them very much this year, but next year I think they'll be much happier…"
She trailed off, belatedly noticing the worried look he gave the flowers when she mentioned fixing them "a meal." "You needn't look as if you expect them to collapse at my feet," she admonished, laughing. "They'll fare far better with their meal than we did with ours. I am a better gardener than I am a cook."
Ian jerked his gaze from the flowers, then looked at her with an odd, contemplative expression. "I think I'll go inside and clean up." She walked away without looking back, and so she did not see Ian Thornton turn halfway around to watch her.
"Are you talking to the " Ian asked from behind her.
Elizabeth started and turned around on an embarrassed laugh. "They like it when I talk to them." Knowing how peculiar that sounded, she reinforced it by adding, "Our gardener used to say all living things need affection, and that includes flowers." Turning back to the garden, she shoveled the last of the compost around the flowers, then she stood up and brushed off her hands. Her earlier ruminations about him had abolished so much of her antagonism that as she looked at him now she was able to regard him with perfect equanimity. It occurred to her, though, that it must seem odd to him that a guest was rooting about in his garden like a menial. "I hope you don't mind," she said, nodding toward the garden, "but the flowers couldn't breathe with so many weeds choking them. They were crying out for a little room and sustenance."
An indescribable expression flashed across his face. "You them?"
"Of course not," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. "But I did take the liberty of fixing a special meal-well, compost, actually-for them. It won't help them very much this year, but next year I think they'll be much happier…"
She trailed off, belatedly noticing the worried look he gave the flowers when she mentioned fixing them "a meal." "You needn't look as if you expect them to collapse at my feet," she admonished, laughing. "They'll fare far better with their meal than we did with ours. I am a better gardener than I am a cook."
Ian jerked his gaze from the flowers, then looked at her with an odd, contemplative expression. "I think I'll go inside and clean up." She walked away without looking back, and so she did not see Ian Thornton turn halfway around to watch her.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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