A Jar of Fallen Stars

A Wild Rose

She sat in the shade of the ancient oak tree, intently studying the faded leather journal in her lap as she reread her poetry.  Bypassers often looked upon her in marvel and envy -- for she was beautiful in her own way, with her ash brown hair, hazel eyes with their dark lashes, and thin lips that always seemed to be turned up into an absent smile.  To many, she was pristine, perfect -- making it all the easier for some to hate her.

The boy at the bottom of the hill concealed himself in the tall grass, his heart beating out of his chest.  He was a golden-haired, freckly-faced lad of seventeen, his tanned figure normally tall and well-built when he stood at his full height.  Now, he only looked ridiculous as he crouched down and barely peeked above the meadow fescue, earning many puzzled looks from passing-by farmers.  Be that as it may, he barely noticed them -- he only saw her.

He had known her for a long time and had admired her from afar for several years, as many had -- how could he not?  She was, after all, very beautiful.  Unlike many, however, he did not see only her as another pretty face -- for though he was young, his years had taught him that no one is what they seem.  Despite the misgivings of others, he had listened to her soft words at every opportunity, had witnessed her gentleness and kindness, and he knew more than anything she had a beautiful heart.

Now, as he sat hiding in the patch of meadow grass, he deliberated what to do next.  He looked down at the single fragile blossom with its green stem that he held -- a wild rose, the first of the season.  Upon seeing it, he had carefully picked it with the intent of giving it to her... but now, as he was so close to presenting the flower to her, he was having second thoughts.  What would she think of him? he wondered fearfully.  Would she be confused?  Disgusted?  Oh, she might even reject him--rumors of other boys giving her favors were not uncommon, and she might not want such attention.

After quite some time of doubting himself, he reluctantly put his fears aside and stood up, carefully tucking the rose inside his vest, walking out of the tall grass and going up the hill.  He swallowed nervously as he neared the top, his hands shaking as he approached her.  What should he say?  Should he greet her first?  Or would she speak before he even had the opportunity?

He never had to worry, however -- for at that moment, she called to him from the top of the hill, "Oh, hello!"

He jumped, a bit startled as he saw her smiling at him.  "Hello," he said, his voice barely coming out in a croak.

She laughed as he finally made his way to the top of the hill, her voice clear as a bell.  "Goodness, that's right -- I forgot how dreadfully shy you can be."  She smiled at him again, and his heart skipped several beats.  "Anyway, it's quite lovely that you came to see me -- not many people care so much to make the trek up the hill."

His face became warm.  "I'm glad you're happy," he stammered, the words coming out a bit painfully.  "Um... yeah."

Her smile widened, then softened a bit.  "Would you like to sit down?" she offered softly.

He nodded quickly and took a seat next to her -- but not too close.  "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

The two of them sat in silence for some time, as she continued to pore over her leather journal, and he sat there, not sure of what to do until she finally shut the journal and announced, "I think I've finished writing sonnets for today."  She looked over at him, a pensive look on her face.  "You're awfully quiet compared to most people, you know that?"

"I've been told that... frequently."  His face warmed a bit more.

She grinned.  "Well, that's fine by me.  I like it."  The smile faded, and she knit her brow thoughtfully.  "Although, I am curious... you're the first one who's ever visited me while I'm writing my poems..."

His face became a deep shade of crimson, and he averted his eyes in embarrassment.  "Um... I..."

"'Um' what?"

He exhaled shakily and removed the rose from his vest, presenting it to her with a trembling hand.  "I... found this, and thought you would like it."

She gasped softly and took it from him.  "Oh..."  Her voice was barely a whisper.  "Oh... it's beautiful... how... kind... and gentlemanly of you..."

He did not reply -- he only ducked his head down, too overcome with self-consciousness for words.

She was silent for several moments -- and then she giggled a bit.  "You silly thing."  She poked him in the arm.  "I'm glad you did it.  You know why?"

He looked up at her in bewilderment at her smile.  "Why?" he said, baffled.

She smiled at him.  "Because I don't think I would have been happy if anyone else would have done it."  And without another word, she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  "Thank you, my friend, you're very sweet."

He froze, staring at her in amazement as she kept smiling at him -- then, with only a slight bit of hesitation, smiled shyly back at her.  "I... you're welcome."