Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Yes, I did the right thing by fixing Lemon’s tire and dropping her car off to her so she wouldn’t have to worry, and yes, I added a rose because that is something I used to do. It’s something I miss doing. Bringing her flowers used to be a highlight of my day. Every time I brought her a flower or two, sometimes a bouquet, her eyes would sparkle.
I miss the sparkle.
And I miss Lemon. More so after last night. I never thought I’d tell her we couldn’t have sex and when those words came out of my mouth, I hated myself. For one brief moment I wished I was the cad she expected me to be and had a glove box full of rubbers, but that’s not me. Sure, I could’ve moved on, but I haven’t. I’m content, and happy with being Goldie’s dad. I figure, someday I’ll look, but honestly, I don’t want to look past Lemon. She’s all I want. She’s all I ever wanted.
With Ms. Linda occupied with Sarah, the owner of Sugar Rush—the candy store Goldie begs me to take her to, even though I know my mom and her stop there often—and also another gossip like Ms. Linda, I move to the other side of the house and work on the hedgerow. One of these days I plan to take a topiary course. I want to learn how to shape and manipulate shrubs into different designs. Although, unless I quit my day off, I won’t have time for another project.
“Sarah wanted me to know she saw Lemon walking to school this morning.”
“I think Lemon walks most days,” I say without taking my eyes off the shrub.
“With a rose in her hand.”
I’m thankful Ms. Linda can’t see me right now because my smile would give me away.
“I knew a boy once who used to give the girl he was sweet on a flower every time he went and saw her. He used to pluck them from my garden.”
My hand slips slightly. While what she says is true, I’m not sure how she would’ve noticed. I always cut where there wouldn’t be a gap among the blooms.
“I wonder if I’m missing a rose,” she says with a hint of laughter in her voice.
“I didn’t see any fresh cuts, Ms. Linda.”
She hums, which with her you can never tell if she’s onto you or thinking of an answer. “I suppose if a man is going to be sweet on a woman, it should be my roses he gives her.”
Another smile and again I’m thankful she can’t see me. I like the idea of her assuming it’s me without confirming.
“Maybe I should get cameras for the outside.”
I shake my head. “Why waste your money?”
“To catch those little bandits.”
“Yeah,” I sigh and adjust my ball cap. “I think those rose bandits are all grown up.”
Ms. Linda snickered. “If you find yourself needing more roses, you know where to get them.”
I turn and look at her and this time she sees my smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I hope that shit eating grin on your face means you’re pursuing our lovely young principal.”
“Ma’am, I am trying. Lemon doesn’t make things easy, but we took a step in the right direction.”
“That’s our boy,” she says as she starts laughing her way back into her house. I give myself a moment to replay last night’s encounter and then get back to work. As if on cue, when Ms. Linda’s screen door slams shut, my phone rings. Taking it from my pocket, I look at the caller ID and groan. I can’t imagine what else has gone wrong at the school and think about sending Jean to voicemail.
“Jenkins Landscaping.” I want to be professional, but I also want to say, “what’s the fucking problem now?”
“Hi, it’s Lem—Ms. Walsh.”
The smile I had moments ago is back with a vengeance, except she said Ms. Walsh, not Lemon, which leads me to think this is definitely professional and not personal.
“This isn’t an emergency, but Marigold was accidently hit today in the cafeteria.”
My heart does a double tap and I’m already picking up my tools. “Is she okay?”
“Yes, I believe she’s fine. She’s in my office. Would you like to speak with her?”
“Yes.” What kind of question is that? Of course, I want to speak to my daughter. I hear Lemon say, “Your dad would like to talk to you.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey. How’s my girl?”
“My head hurts.”
“Ms. Walsh said there was an accident. Are you okay?”
“My head hurts. Will you come get me?”
“Of course, I will. Make sure you put some ice on the part that hurts. I’ll be there soon. I’m at Ms. Linda’s.”
“Okay.”
Lemon takes a deep breath. I don’t know if she realizes how close she is to her phone, but I can hear her breathing, and I like that I fluster her. It means she likes me.