A Chain of Daisies

Lilies

After dinner, the Krelborns had gathered on the patio to watch the summer sun sink slowly into the horizon. Audrey sat with six-year-old Nate, drawing on the stone with sidewalk chalk. Lily was helping her father replant a gardenia bush. It had outgrown its pot and was ready to be planted in the landscaping. Dandy, the black and white cocker spaniel, chased butterflies happily in the backyard

"You always know what a plant needs, Dad," Lily said.

"Oh, I wouldn't say always," Seymour said, a bashful blush warming his cheeks.

It continued to redden as Audrey smiled at him and said, "Don't sell yaself short, hon. She's right! You do always know what they need, and if you don't, you can figure it out quicka' than anyone I know,"

"Yeah! You're da best at taking care of da plants, Daddy," Nate chimed in. Seymour bowed his head in slight embarrassment, still blushing, and went back to the task at hand.

"How do you know what they need," Lily asked, "Did you have to memorize a ton of plant books or somethin'?"

Seymour thought about the question as he continued to work. "I dunno," he said finally, "I guess it just kinda comes to me. I mean, I've read books and stuff, but . . ." he trailed off. It kind of confused him too; ever since he was a little boy he had always had a fascination with plants. At the orphanage, the dandelions that would pop through the cracks in the sidewalk became his only friends. Whenever they appeared to be wilting, he'd get the instinct to do one thing or another and the plant would perk back up again.

"Gee, it's almost like they talk to you and tell you what they need!" Lily interrupted Seymour's train of thought. Nate joined in with an enthusiastic "Yeah!", eager to be like his sister. Seymour, however, froze. Audrey looked up from her chalk drawing, sensing the tension radiating off him. He had a faraway look in his eyes, one he often got when lost in a memory or when Audrey would find him staring into space. Just as Audrey was about to get up, Lily knocked him out of his trance by accidentally bumping into him.

"Do dey talk to you, Daddy?" Nate asked, reaching over to grab a different colored chalk. Audrey looked at Seymour again, who took a deep breath and looked around somewhat nervously. Audrey caught his eye and raised her eyebrows, offering to take over the situation and direct the kids' attention elsewhere. He shook his head slightly, and she allowed him to continue.

"Sometimes, Nate," Seymour said, sitting down next to him.

"Really?" Nate and Lily asked simultaneously.

"Yep!" Seymour answered as Nate climbed into his lap and Lily cuddled up next to him. Audrey remained where she was, absentmindedly tracing swirls with the chalk.

"Are they talking to you right now?" Lily wondered.

"Maybe . . . I don't always know," Seymour said, "Sometimes it's very obvious, sometimes it's not,"

"Can you tell us about a time when it was weally obvious?" Nate asked, pressing for a story.

"Sure," Seymour said, resting his chin atop Nate's sandy brown hair. At the words, Audrey was tugged back down to Earth . . . They had agreed to wait to tell the kids about the Audrey II incident until they were a little bit older. They had also agreed to do it together and not surprise the other during a bit of family time on the patio after supper. Audrey felt a small flicker of anger flair inside her, and was about to say something when Seymour discreetly held up a hand to stop her. With a frustrated sigh, she leaned back on her hands, momentarily holding her tongue.

"About eight years ago," Seymour began, "before either of you were born, I was in our garden," He pointed to the one in the backyard. "It was midsummer, and I was out picking some ripe tomatoes when I noticed something strange . . . Lilies,"

As Audrey recognized the story, her face softened and the little flicker of anger was quickly doused. She smiled at Seymour, and he gave her one in return, glad that they were once again on the same page.

Seymour continued his story, "Now, you may be wondering why lilies would be so strange," He teased, "But the catch is that I had never planted lilies that year . . . In fact I didn't even have any lily seeds on hand at the time,"

"Den how did it get dere?" Nate asked, astonished.

"I still don't know, to this day," Seymour said, his voice full of wonder and intrigue, "They were very pretty lilies, and they weren't harmin' anyone or anything, so I let 'em be. The week went on as normal, and soon, the mysterious lilies became just another flower in the garden. They stayed that way, until your mama made a very important announcement,"

"What was the announcement?" Lily asked, her brown eyes widening.

"That we were goin' to have a baby," Seymour said, drawing Lily in close.

"Me!" She squealed, "The baby was me!"

"Yep!" Seymour said, kissing her on the nose, "It was you. Only, I still hadn't connected that to the flowers. It wasn't until quite a few months later, when we were picking out baby names. It was early fall now, and most everything in the garden had died, and I was cleanin' it out. Mama sat on that swing over there, listin' off name after name,"

Audrey smiled again at the memory, one she remembered like it was yesterday. She continued to carelessly draw with the chalk as she listened to Seymour's story.

"As I was clearin' out the garden," Seymour carried on, "I came across the lilies again, still alive and with a few remaining blooms. Seein' it again reminded me of when I first discovered it and of when we first discovered you, Lils. Suddenly, I realized what the flower had been tryin' to tell me,"

"What?" Lily and Nate asked together.

"That we were goin' to be blessed with a beautiful baby girl, who we named accordingly," Seymour laughed, and gave Lily another kiss on the cheek, "And, unbeknownst to us, two years later a baby boy," He finished, kissing a sleepy Nate on the top of his head.

Looking up from his two children, Seymour glanced at Audrey. She was still smiling, looking dreamingly down at the patio, lost in her own little world. Seymour followed her gaze, his eyes landing on her drawing.

"Woah, Audrey," he said, amazed, "I didn't know you could draw that well, sweetpea,"

"Hmm?" she murmured, still not all there, "Draw? What —"

She stopped short, finally actually seeing her drawing. It was a large sketch of a flower. Its white and pink trumpet-like flowers seemed to come alive off the stone. The long green leaves surrounded Audrey in a nest-like fashion. It was a lily.

"I don't think I knew eitha" she said, tracing the flowing patterns, "I've always made little sketches of arrangements, but I neva' thought they were this good . . ."

"It's beautiful, Mama," Lily said, wrapping her arms around Audrey.

"It is," Seymour agreed. They gazed at the drawing until Nate tugged on Seymour's collar.

"Daddy, I'm tired," He whined.

"Me too, sweetheart," Seymour said, "I think it's time we go to bed," He stood up, lifting Nate along with him. Audrey and Lily followed him inside. As Audrey went to shut the backdoor, she looked at the lily again. Nestled in the tangled leaves, she noticed four abstract figures: a mother, a father, a little girl, and a little boy.