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“Yes. I know that my mom likes carnations, but I’m not sure what Henri…”
Emma held up her index finger. “I know exactly what to get for Henri.”
“How?” I asked. “How do you know?”
Emma had already turned and was opening and closing the doors of the refrigerators. “It’s kind of my thing.” She shouted over her shoulder. “When I meet someone, I can picture their favorite flower.”
“Are you some kind of floral psychic?” I laughed, but Emma turned and with a completely serious face, replied, “Yes.”
“What if they don’t have a favorite flower?” I was thinking of myself – I’d never once thought about flowers, or plants.
Emma clipped the stems of some spiky flowers that were so purple they almost looked black. “Black Dahlia.” She answered my question before I could answer. “I could give you some red ones, they’re a bit more festive, but I think that Henri is going to love these.”
“Who am I to question a flower psychic,” I chuckled. “Let’s go with the dahlias.”
Emma wrapped them up and then I made one more stop in town – and picked up the last, and riskiest, item on my list.
Back at the farm, after finishing my chores and helping mom clean up from the fundraising meeting, exhaustion finally hit me. I dropped onto the mattress like a stone, and fell asleep instantly. When I woke up, it was dark.
“Shit.” Through my bleary eyes I could barely make out the time – seven o’clock. I was supposed to pick up Henri at six. I shot out of bed, grabbed everything I needed for the date, and rushed to the cabin, hoping that she wasn’t going to be pissed off at me. When I arrived, she was hunched over her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard, a pen between her teeth like a flamenco dancer’s rose.
“Is it six already?” She took the pen from her mouth.
“It’s seven.” I shut the door behind me. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep and rushed here as fast as I could.”
There was a wry smile on her face. “What?” I asked.
“I like you without a hat.” She came over to me and ran her fingers through my hair.
I hadn’t looked in the mirror before leaving. “Is it sticking up all over the place?” I patted it down as Henri laced her fingers behind my neck.
“It is.” She smiled and her eyes held mine. “You manage to make messy hair look good, Jack Lumber.”
She kissed me and then took the pencil that was stuck through her messy bun and shook out her hair – it was sexier than the motorcycle scene that I had imagined. “You’re so hot Henrietta Page.” I pulled her to me with one arm, my other was still behind my back with the flowers.
She giggled and nuzzled into my neck. “What are we doing tonight? I hope we’re not climbing any mountains because I forgot my crampons at home.”
I held up the picnic basket.
“A picnic? Outside?” She was smiling, but her voice sounded a little uncertain and I worried that I’d made a mistake.
Sure, I could’ve taken her to a fancy restaurant in town, or out to the bar again, but neither of those things seemed special enough for her.
I revealed the flowers I’d been holding between my back and her eyes misted over as she took them from my hands and inhaled their scent. “How did you know--”
“That these were your favorite?” I finished her sentence. “I got some advice from a floral psychic.”
Emma smacked my arm lightly and chuckled, she thought that I was joking. “Let me put these in some water.”
As Henrietta arranged the flowers, the light from the woodstove flickered on her face. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I rushed to her and wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her neck while she arranged the flowers. She giggled. “I love your beard, but it tickles.”
I handed her the gift-wrapped box I’d stashed inside the picnic basket. “What’s this?” she stared at the box in her hands.
“I bought you something.”
She pointed to the dahlias. “Jack, this is too much.” She pulled off the bow. “Unless it’s a snowsuit.”
“You’re not going to need a snow suit where we’re going.”
