User - NRoberts - G1 Blue Dahlia
I understand, or should. And that is that love is precious, and too often stolen away. You've got a chance to grab hold of it again. And I say lucky you."
* * *
She dreamed again of the garden, and the blue dahlia. It was ladened with buds, fat and ripe and ready
to burst into bloom. At the top, a single stunning flower swayed electric in the quiet breeze. Her garden, though no longer tidy and ordered, spread out from its feet in waves and flows and charming bumps of color and shape.
Then Logan was beside her, and his hands were warm and rough as he drew her close. His mouth was strong and exciting as it feasted on hers. In the distance she could hear her children's laughter, and the cheerful bark of the dog.
She lay on the green grass at the garden's edge, her senses full of the color and scent, full of the man.
There was such heat, such pleasure as they loved in the sunlight. She felt the shape of his face with her hands. Not fairy-tale handsome, not perfect, but beloved. Her skin shivered as their bodies moved, flesh against flesh, hard against soft, curve against angle.
How could they fit, how could they make such a glorious whole, when there were so many differences?
But her body merged with his, joined, and thrived.
She lay in the sunlight with him, on the green grass at the edge of her garden, and hearing the thunder
of her own heartbeat, knew bliss.
The buds on the dahlia burst open. There were so many of them. Too many. Other plants were being shaded, crowded. The garden was a jumble now, anyone could see it. The blue dahlia was too
aggressive and prolific.
It's fine where it is. It's just a different plan.
But before she could answer Logan, there was another voice, cold and hard in her mind.
His plan. Not yours. His wants. Not yours. Cut it down, before it spreads.
No, it wasn't her plan. Of course it wasn't. This garden was meant to be a charming spot, a quiet spot.
There was a spade in her hand, and she began to dig.
That's right. Dig it out, dig it up.
The air was cold now, cold as winter, so that Stella shuddered as she plunged the spade into the ground.
Logan was gone, and she was alone in the garden with the Harper Bride, who stood in her white gown and tangled hair, nodding. And her eyes were mad.
"I don't want to be alone. I don't want to give it up."
Dig! Hurry. Do you want the pain, the poison? Do you want it to infect your children? Hurry! It will
spoil everything, kill everything, if you let it stay.
She'd get it out. It was best to get it out. She'd just plant it somewhere else, she thought, somewhere better.
But as she lifted it out, taking care with the roots, the flowers went black, and the blue dahlia withered and went to dust in her hands.
* * *
Keeping busy was the best way not to brood. And keeping busy was no problem for Stella with the
school year winding down, the perennial sale at the nursery about to begin, and her best saleswoman
on maternity leave.
She didn't have time to pick apart strange, disturbing dreams or worry about a man who proposed one minute, then vanished the next. She had a business to run, a family to tend, a ghost to identify.
She sold the last three bay laurels, then put her mind and her back into reordering the shrub area.
"Shouldn't you be pushing papers instead of camellias?"
She straightened, knowing very well she'd worked up a sweat, that there was soil on her pants, and
that her hair was frizzing out of the ball cap she'd stuck on. And faced Logan.
"I manage, and part of managing is making sure our stock is properly displayed. What do you want?"
"Got a new job worked up." He waved the paperwork, and the breeze from it made her want to moan
out loud. "I'm in for supplies."
"Fine. You can put the paperwork on my desk."
"This is as far as I'm going." He shoved it into her hand. "Crew's loading up some of it now. I'm going
to take that Japanese red maple, and five of the hardy pink oleanders."
He dragged the flatbed over and started to load.
"Fine," she repeated, under her breath. Annoyed, she glanced at the bid, blinked, then reread the client information.
"This is my father."
"Uh-huh."
"What are you doing planting oleander for my father?"
"My job. Putting in a new patio, too. Your stepmama's already talking about getting new furniture for
out there. And a fountain. Seems to me a woman can't see a flat surface without wanting to buy something to put on it. They were still talking about it when I left the other night."
"You—what were you doing there?"
"Having pie. Gotta get on. We need to get started on this if I'm going to make it home and clean up
before this dinner with the professor guy tonight. See you later, Red."
"Hold it. You just hold it. You had your mother call me, right out of the blue."
"How's it out of the blue when you said you wanted us to meet each other's families? Mine's a couple thousand miles away right now, so the phone call seemed the best way."
"I'd just like you to explain..." Now she waved the papers. "All this."
"I know. You're a demon for explanations." He stopped long enough to grab her hair, crush his mouth
to hers. "If that doesn't make it clear enough, I'm doing something wrong. Later."
* * *
"Then he just walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot." Still stewing hours later, Stella changed Lily's diaper while Hayley finished dressing for dinner.
"You said you thought you should meet each other's families and stuff," Hayley pointed out. "So now
you talked to his mama, and he talked to your daddy."
"I know what I said, but he just went tramping over there. And he had her call me without letting me know first. He just goes off, at the drop of a hat." She picked up Lily, cuddled her. "He gets me
stirred up."
"I kinda miss getting stirred up that way." She turned sideways in the mirror, sighed a little over the post-birth pudge she was carrying. "I guess I thought, even though the books said different, that everything would just spring back where it was after Lily came out."
"Nothing much springs after having a baby. But you're young and active. You'll get your body back."
"I hope." She reached for her favorite silver hoops while Stella nuzzled Lily. "Stella, I'm going to tell
you something, because you're my best friend and I love you."
"Oh, sweetie."
"Well, it's true. Last week, when Logan came by to bring Lily her doll, and you and the boys came outside? Before I went in and he popped the big Q? You know what the four of you looked like?"
"No."
"A family. And I think whatever your head's running around with, in your heart you know that. And
that that's the way it's going to be."
"You're awfully young to be such a know-it-all."
"It's not the years, it's the miles." Hayley tossed a cloth over her shoulder. "Come here, baby girl.
Mama's going to show you off to the dinner guests before you go to sleep. You ready?" she asked Stella.
"I guess we'll find out."
They started toward the stairs, with Stella gathering her boys on the way, and met Roz on the landing.
"Well, don't we all look fine."
"We had to wear new shirts," Luke complained.
"And you look so handsome in them. I wonder if I can be greedy and steal both these well-dressed young men as my escorts." She held out both her hands for theirs. "It's going to storm," she said with a glance out the window. "And look here, I believe that must be our Dr. Carnegie, and right on time. What in the world is that man driving? It looks like a nasty red box on wheels."
"I think it's a Volvo." Hayley moved in to spy over Roz's shoulder. "A really old Volvo. They're like one of the safest cars, and so dopey-looking, they're cool. Oh, my, look at that!" Her eyebrows lifted when Mitch got out of the car. "Serious hottie alert."
"Good God, Hayley, he's old enough to be your daddy."
Hayley just smiled at Roz. "Hot's hot. And he's hot."
"Maybe he needs a drink of water," Luke suggested.
"And we'll get one for Hayley, too." Amused, Roz walked down to greet her first guest.
He brought a good white wine as a hostess gift, which she approved of, but he opted for mineral water when she offered him a drink. She supposed a man who drove a car manufactured about the same time he'd been born needed to keep his wits about him. He made appropriate noises over the baby, shook hands soberly with the boys.
She gave him points for tact when he settled into small talk rather than asking more about the reason
she wanted to hire him.
By the time Logan arrived, they were comfortable enough.
"I don't think we'll wait for Harper." Roz got to her feet. "My son is chronically late, and often missing
in action."
"I've got one of my own," Mitch said. "I know how it goes."
"Oh, I didn't realize you had children."
"Just the one. Josh is twenty. He goes to college here. You really do have a beautiful home, Ms. Harper."
"Roz, and thank you. It's one of my great loves. And here," she added as Harper dashed in from the kitchen, "is another."
"Late. Sorry. Almost forgot. Hey, Logan, Stella. Hi, guys." He kissed his mother, then looked at Hayley. "Hi. Where's Lily?"
"Sleeping."
"Dr. Carnegie, my tardy son, Harper."
"Sorry. I hope I didn't hold you up."
"Not at all," Mitch said as they shook hands. "Happy to meet you."
"Why don't we sit down? It looks like David's outdone himself."
An arrangement of summer flowers in a long, low bowl centered the table. Candles burned, slim white tapers in gleaming silver, on the sideboard. David had used her white-on-white china with pale yellow
and green linens for casual elegance. A cool and artful lobster salad was already arranged on each plate. David sailed in with wine.
"Who can I interest in this very nice Pinot Grigio?"
The doctor, Roz noted, stuck with mineral water.
"You know," Harper began as they enjoyed the main course of stuffed pork, "you look awfully familiar." He narrowed his eyes on Mitch's face. "I've been trying to figure it out. You didn't teach at the U of M while I was there, did you?"
"I might have, but I don't recall you being in any of my classes."
"No. I don't think that's it anyway. Maybe I went to one of your lectures or something. Wait. Wait. I've got it. Josh Carnegie. Power forward for the Memphis Tigers."
"My son."
"Strong resemblance. Man, he's a killer. I was at the game last spring, against South Carolina, when he scored thirty-eight points. He's got moves."
Mitch smiled, rubbed a thumb over the fading bruise on his jaw. "Tell me."
Conversation turned to basketball, boisterously, and gave Logan the opportunity to lean toward Stella. "Your daddy says he's looking forward to seeing you and the boys on Sunday. I'll drive you in, as
I've got an invitation to Sunday dinner, too."
"Is that so?"
"He likes me." He picked up her free hand, brushed his lips over his fingers. "We're bonding over oleanders."
She didn't try to stop the smile. "You hit him where it counts."
"You, the kids, his garden. Yeah, I'd say I got it covered. You write that list for me yet, Red?"
"Apparently you're doing fine crossing things off without consulting me."
His grin flashed, "Jolene thinks we should go traditional and have a June wedding."
When Stella's mouth dropped open, he turned away to talk to her kids about the latest issues of Marvel Comics.
Over dessert, a rustling, then a long, shrill cry sounded from the baby monitor standing on the buffet. Hayley popped up as if she were on springs. "That's my cue. I'll be back down after she's fed and
settled again."
"Speaking of cues." Stella rose as well. "Time for bed, guys. School night," she added even before the protests could be voiced.
"Going to bed before it's dark is a gyp," Gavin complained.
"I know. Life is full of them. What comes next?"
Gavin heaved a sigh. "Thanks for dinner, it was really good, and now we have to go to bed because of stupid school."
"Close enough," Stella decided.
"'Night. I liked the finger potatoes 'specially," Luke said to David.
"Want a hand?" Logan called out.
"No." But she stopped at the doorway, turned back and just looked at him a moment. "But thanks."
