Page 46 of Pages of Amber
“Nothing.” His soft tone only increased the feeling. “The flowers in the kitchen and living room. They were from here, weren’t they?”
She was surprised he had taken note of them. Amber liked putting together the vase display every week. They brightened up the room and made her smile every time she saw them. Her mom didn’t exactly feel the same. She had never said anything about the flowers but Amber had seen her walk past them like they weren’t there and take the farthest chair in the living room away from them.
“They are. I always mix different flowers in my arrangement but I try to include the white jasmines as much as I can. Its fragrance is welcoming and relaxing.”
“Is that why you have it beside the door?”
Oh. He was really perceptive. Way more than she gave him credit for. Amber nodded and moved over to water the irises. Noah followed, waiting for her answer. “Like I said, they’re welcoming. I always feel welcome here. It’s my favorite place because it would have been my dad’s favorite place too.”
There was a moment of silence filled only by the slosh of the water trickling out of the can.
“He loved gardening.”
It wasn’t a question. Amber nodded as though it was. “He did. Taught me everything I first knew about them. The right spots to plant in, preparing the soil just right, his secret trick for watering and pruning.”
Gardening had been one of her father’s favorite hobbies. He liked to connect with the earth, tend to nature and let the stress of the day drain away while he focused on his plants. He had been more than a little sad when he couldn’t do that anymore.
“After he passed, I insisted on having the greenhouse. It was so hard moving here without him. I couldn’t imagine leaving this part of him behind when it had become a part of me too. Now every time I’m in here, it feels like he’s right here with me.” Her voice grew quiet. She lowered her watering can to the edge of the trough, suddenly feeling the weight of it as heavy as the stone sinking in her chest. “It helps a lot of times, you know. At least I think it does. I still find myself wishing he really was here so I could have more time with him.”
Her words sunk into the silence and they stood, side by side, letting it hang between them. A cool breeze moved through the open windows towards them and Amber found the courage to finally ask, “What happened today, Noah? At your house?”
The question must have pricked a nerve. The lines were back in his forehead, more disturbed than angry. When he turned away, she didn’t push and returned to watering. She had just set down her can when his voice filled the air, soft and hesitant.
“My dad and I. We haven’t exactly gotten along lately.” He paused, sighed and scowled in the span of a minute. “He doesn’t listen. He never has. He doesn’t make it easy to talk to him. We only get as far as yelling before one or both of us gives up and walks away.”
Noah’s jaw rippled, the words seeming to have taken a strain on him. It probably hadn’t been easy opening up but he needed it or it was going to eat him up. She knew that from experience. It was why she was glad she had the greenhouse. This soil had tasted her sorrow. These walls held her deepest secrets. But who held Noah’s?
“Parents aren’t always the easiest people to talk to,” she started. “That doesn’t make them bad people. They’re exactly that. People. They lash out, they make mistakes, they hurt. Like we do.”
Memories whirred through her mind from past years. Her mother smiling in the kitchen as she prepared her dad’s tea. Her mom on her knees beside the hospital bed, cradling his lifeless hand, every part of her breaking. Her mom now, stern and unsmiling, her back turned away from Amber.
She clutched the handle of the can, trying to anchor herself. This wasn’t about her, it was about Noah. She turned to him. His eyes were shifted downwards, his gaze locked on the flowerbed. Amber laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“It isn’t easy trying to reach them but it isn’t impossible. It might be difficult but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep trying. Maybe what you and your dad need is to stop talking at each other and to each other instead.”
She knew now why she had wanted to show Noah the greenhouse.
It had been her lifesaver after moving to a strange new place, and her anchor when everything around had been shifting. It was her safe place, there was no doubt about that. But bringing Noah in here, maybe she had just wanted to give him a safe place too.
Pink cosmos were from the sunflower family. Also known as the Mexican Aster, the bright pink, daisy-like flowers thrived in full sun and moderate soil. They were easy to grow, of low maintenance and were a perfect fit for flower pots. They grew best in early spring and she had already sown the seeds in anticipation of the coming season. Symbolizing love, kisses and hugs, she couldn’t wait to see their pink blossoms.
They were Amber’s favorite flower.
She remembered the day her father had come home with the seeds. He had swept her off her tiny feet and announced they would be spending the afternoon in the little garden at the back of their home. Her mom had shaken her head, a large smile on her face. As they prepared the soil, their hands sheathed in gloves and dirt already smudging Amber’s little cheeks, her father had turned to her with a wide smile.
“These are special seeds, my little flower. Their petals are beautiful, resilient and brighten any room, just like you.” He had leaned in and tapped her nose, smudging it further as her delightful giggles filled the air. “Remember this, Amber. Don’t let your cheer die out. Your spirit is bright and beautiful, like these flowers will be. But the weeds will try to steal that cheer. Don’t let them, my flower. Be your own sunshine.”
She was trying. Every day, she tried. She put on her smile, she protected her happiness, she was her own sunshine. Even when the seasons turned against her and she fought the harsh winds.
The bright pink flowers had bloomed that spring, beautiful and resilient. Like her dad said they would. They reminded him of her. Not the sharp, painful reminder of his loss. But memories of warmth and laughter and happier times she wished to go back to. Amber flexed the glove on her fingers and checked the soil for any weeds before stepping back with a satisfied hum. She replaced the gloves with her watering can, tipping it onto the soil then moving to the next section. She gently rearranged a few of the flowers that didn’t seem to be getting enough sunlight. When she finished, she added more water and could almost swear she saw the petals perk up. She made a silly face at the plant as though receiving the imaginary appreciation.
“If I see you giving the flower a fist bump and saying something like, ‘you grow, girl’ I’m gonna think you’re cuckoo instead of cool.”
Amber jumped, almost forgetting Noah was still in the room with her. He hadn’t said much since admitting he and his father didn’t get along. Standing with his back to the trough on the other side of the room, his arms were folded and legs crossed at the ankles. The afternoon sun through the greenhouse windows somehow knew to hit him at the right angle to highlight his hair to a brownish red and deepen the shadows on his cheekbones and jawline. She didn’t want to admit how good he looked standing there.
Instead, she looked away, replaying the last thing he had said. A gust of air left her as she laughed. “You finally admit you think I’m cool, Noah. Good for you.”
She could almost feel the eye roll he sent her way. A glance back showed she was right on the money. Amber laughed again. “Admit that if I did do that, you’d secretly think it was adorable and you’d have that exact same smile that you have on right now.”
