Wilder left the barn, fully expecting Betty to volunteer to do that. She lived in town, after all. She could pick the roses up on the way to the park.
Heck, Wilder could do that. Did they really need to order them? Wouldn’t a good flower shop always have red roses?
When no other text came in by the time he reached the house, Wilder pulled out his phone and checked it.
I can’t believe he’s doing it today,Betty had said.I’m in Amarillo, remember?
No, Wilder had not remembered that, because he couldn’t keep every person’s schedule in his head.
What time is he doing it?she asked in a second text.Maybe I can make it back in time.
Six, Wilder said.I’ll go to town and order the flowers.
The air pressed down on him with the weight of gravity, and Wilder just wanted to escape it. He jogged up the steps to his wing of the homestead, swiped his truck keys from the hook beside the door, patted his back pocket to make sure he had his wallet, and headed back out.
He kept the radio off on the way to town, trying to sort through his own thoughts and feelings and listen for any guidance and direction from God. Aunt Willa had spoken about God’s timing at church only a few days ago, and Wilder had been reminded that God knew of him, loved him, and expected him to learn patience.
You didn’t know what that meant,he pressed against it, because he didn’t want to be patient.
He had one Glover wedding on Saturday, as Mitch would marry Lacy at his place on the east side of town. Gun would be engaged tonight, and Rock very soon after that. He told himself that no one else was dating anybody seriously.Maybe all he had to do was make it through the next year, and he wouldn’t feel so jealous.
“But if not,” he said out loud, coming to the first stoplight on the southern end of town. “I will be as patient as I can, Lord.”
He continued on to the flower shop, the bell on the front door chiming merrily as he entered. It seemed busier than it should be on a Wednesday afternoon, but Wilder figured if people couldn’t order online or over the phone, they had no choice but to come in.
He waited behind another gentleman wearing a cowboy hat and holding a vase filled with pink, yellow, and orange blooms. Wilder let himself get transported to a slower, earlier time—one where the internet didn’t exist, and people couldn’t order things online. Where everyone had to leave their house and make the drive to town in order to purchase the things they wanted. No front-door delivery.
Part of Wilder yearned for that, and the other part sure did like opening his front door and picking up the item he needed today that he’d ordered only yesterday.
He made it to the front of the line and reached into his back pocket as he nodded toward the refrigeration case behind the desk. “Is that one two-dozen red roses?”
“Yes, sir,” the older woman said, and Wilder recognized Maryann from the many church functions he’d attended over the years.
“I’ll take that,” he said.
“Any cards or balloons to go with it?” Maryann asked.
“No, thank you.”
She turned and picked up the intricate glass vase with patterns running up and down it, the flowers arranged just-so and bursting out of the top in a beautiful arrangement.
Wilder had gotten really good at ignoring the chaos around him, focusing on his task and accomplishing it. He hadn’t noticed if the bell had chimed after him or how long the line stretched behind him. He wasn’t unobservant, just presentinside his own mind and world, and unconcerned about what others did around him.
He finished paying for the roses, tucked his card back in his wallet, and reached for the flowers.
Maryann sighed and said, “Thanks for coming in. I’m sorry it was so busy. We seem to have had a rush right when you arrived.”
Wilder smiled. “Ain’t no thing.” He tipped his hat at her, knowing his mother would probably hear about it, and he wanted her to be proud. “I hope your phone lines get back up soon.”
“They just finished about five minutes ago.” Maryann still wore her weariness in the lines around her eyes, though.
Wilder picked up the vase, noting its weight and how it was slightly top-heavy. He shifted his hands to hold it properly and turned at the same time.
A shrill scream filled the flower shop. He startled, the vase slipping in his hands. He managed to catch it, his heartbeat thrashing in the back of his throat. The sound of a child crying filled the air, and a mother’s softer, hushed tone as she spoke.
Something inside Wilder told him to go see if he could help, though he normally wouldn’t. He headed for the front door of the shop, glancing left and right and not seeing anyone.
The sound grew louder and the crying more intense with every step he took, and down the first aisle of the shop, just in front of the entrance, Wilder found a woman crouched down, speaking to a little girl who couldn’t be more than five or six. Another little girl lingered nearby, gently reaching out to touch the petals, buckets, vases, and home décor as she wandered away.
