Catherine
"Ms. Thomas?" I look up from the bread I was kneading to see a young man standing there.
"Yes, that's me," I say, wiping my hands on my apron. "How can I help you?"
"Uh, this is for you," he says, lifting a bouquet of roses in a vase off the ground. I give a confused look as he sets it on the counter.
"Who sent them?" I ask and he shrugs. I pull the card off that was attached with it.
'My love for you is eternal. Yours truly, Parker.'
I feel my breath catch in my throat and I push the vase away angrily. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"
"M-ma'am?" the boy stutters.
"Who sent these?" I demand, coming out from behind the counter, pushing a finger into his chest accusingly.
"I don't know. I'm just doing what I'm told," he bites his lip. I purse mine.
"I'll be having a word with your employer," I hiss. "Take those with you," I gesture to the flowers.
"I can't. I'm not allowed to," he shakes his head. "I'm terribly sorry." The delivery boy quickly leaves. I look at the roses from the corner of my eye and wipe my face. Don't cry. Stay strong.
"You guys can go home, I'm closing up early today," I tell my employees and they nod, finishing up what they were working on and leave. I clean up the rest of the bakery and shut everything down, grabbing the vase and going to my car. I start it and make my way to the florist shop.
"Hello and welcome. What can I do for you today?" the woman and owner of the shop, Barbara, stands behind the counter.
"Why were these sent to me?" I ask calmly, setting the roses on the counter.
"There was an order placed in the book," she says, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"Clearly there was a mistake. My husband Parker is no longer living. He died last month," I mumble.
"No, no mistake. Here, look," she shows me the order form. "What's your name?"
"Catherine Thomas," I recite, still unsure on the whole ordeal. Barbara's eyes light up.
"Oh, you're Catherine! Parker was one of my most loyal customers. I was so sad upon hearing the news. I'm terribly sorry for your loss," she gushes, patting my hand.
"Still doesn't explain why I received these," I look down at them.
"Your husband came in as expected before he died. Always on the eighth of the month. He bought a bouquet of tulips and then proceeded to ask if he could pay for future flower deliveries," she tells me, flipping through her customer book.
"What?" I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around this.
"Here," she points to an order. "Paid for enough to last the rest of your life," Barbara hums softly, smiling at me. "Parker loved you so much and always went on and on how much you loved receiving flowers from him. He told me he knew he was going to die soon. The cancer was unstoppable. So, he made sure he had enough money to buy you a bouquet for every month until you died," she explains, coming around the counter and pulling me into her arms. I hadn't even realized I started crying.
"Parker did all of this, for me?" I ask quietly, a faint smile beginning to make its way onto my face. The first genuine one I've produced since his death. Barbara nods, squeezing me gently and pulls away.
"He loved you so much. I hope to find love like that one day," a faint blush forms on her cheeks, making me laugh and hug her.
"You will, don't worry. Thank you," I murmur, pulling away and grabbing the vase. I wave goodbye and head home, smiling brightly. Once I get back to my house I put the roses on the table, admiring them.
Thank you, Parker. I love you so much.
Yours truly,
Catherine.
❀✿❀✿
So, quick and short. I don't know. How was it? I feel as if I did a terrible job. Anyways, the story was from this section in the newspaper and basically the man bought his wife flowers every month and he was going to die or something, so he made sure his wife received a bouquet every month until she died. I thought it was cute, so I just wrote this up. Sucks, though, so.
Dedicated to M, because I love her. Here you go, darling.
~ Ellie
