Flowers and Miracles

Chapter 8: Silent Love

ANOTHER drizzle.

Jule pulled up an umbrella before leaving for the shop. It was nearly five AM, the sole reason for her to be awake this early being the fact that she had ordered a completely new family of herbs for her shop and they were to arrive at this wicked hour of the day.

Not even the day, Jule keenly labelled it as midnight.

The town was asleep at this hour, the streets reigned by the birds that roamed about, chirping eagerly. The light bath of rain wasn’t worth the umbrella’s shelter so Jule let herself soak a little as the breeze carried her lightweight frock around.

By the time she reached, a realization dawned that she had arrived sooner than the flower truck and this was definitely a first.

Jule brewed herself some coffee and took a chair, gazing at the rain droplets as they clashed on the road, hopped off the ground, splitting and dancing. The sun peeked across the town and it's first rays fell on the wet roads, glistening them to gold.

And though she got lost in the scenery, she wasn’t actually focused on it. All Jule could think of was Flower person. A wish as delicate as a flower's petal resided in her; the longing to meet him. She wished to know him and understand the reason behind his secret catering, or rather caregiving.

Now that she’d experienced the surprise herself at Merryweather, she wanted to know more about him. How was he so concise and smooth but shy and secretive at the same time? Then the cogs in her mind began to move. She used to spot the letter perched on the door either on the evening after her class or in the mornings before her work. The chances of him sending an errand boy appeared scant. He likely came in person.

Jule tore a page out of her cash diary and began to scribble,

Thanks for the dinner-

She folded the page in her fist and tossed it in the trash, yanking out a new page from the diary. By the time the truck honked next to her shop, the dustbin had become a confetti storm. Jule noticed the sun had now risen.

Jule eyed the letter in her hand, upon which she'd written a three-lined, miniscule message.

Teach me sometime, how you love the world silently with the soul of your eyes and never once ask for a reply.

She folded it in a neat half and tucked it inside one of Flower person’s own envelopes,—since he had given her so many till now—tucking it safely on a crevice beside the door handle.

While leading the service guys in and directing them in settling the flowers, Jule handcrafted a bouquet of pink roses, yellow lilies, lilac daisies and lastly, yellow tulips. These were all the flowers she knew that expressed gratitude and love. She added a touch of Vetches and Locusts—which had just arrived—and the bouquet was now complete.

Jule bid byes to the workers as they were now leaving. She tied the most beautiful bow on the stems of the subtle yet elegant posy of her making, spraying the flowers with each of their own scents before she settled it on the small beside the door handle, just beside the envelope. Then with an innocent smile, Jule folded her hands in sincere prayer, wishing that these would reach him.

It was around six now. Jule directed her focus on the new collection that had arrived. She lifted the carryalls of the flowers, leading them up to the attic one by one to store in the coolers. She took samples of each of the two species of flowers and pinched them, heated them and then cooled them in a chemical. It extracted the scent of the flowers with necessary enhancements. Jule placed the two cups in fresh sunshine for the terrible surface odour to subside, leaving behind a fresh fragrance of the locusts and vetches.
Next, she poured the cups in neat spraying tubes and scribbled down each flower's name on top of them. Although the process demanded time and attention, it was her specialty as well as her much loved hobby.
She could create a perfume shop as a side hassle.