Flower Girl

Thirty-Three

Dusk poked its nose out from beneath the dying clouds.

As the two sisters walked side by side and headed toward the train station, Poire's mind was elsewhere, as she thought of her brother's words. She bit her lip. "Say,"—Poire shifted on her feet and cleared her throat, just like her father had, earlier on—"Annabelle?"

"Yes?"

"What... What does Father do, exactly?"

Annabelle pressed a fist to her chin. "Hmmm," she hummed, "that's a good question. I'm not so sure. I think it was something in business?" she told Poire. "But now that you mention it, I don't think he's actually ever explicitly told us." Annabelle cocked her head to the side and spared Poire a curious glance. "Why?" she asked her.

"O-oh, y-you know, no reason really. I was just curious, that's all," Poire said.

Annabelle chuckled. "Well, if you really want to know, why not just ask him?" she said. "We're also guilty of never bringing it up, and he's always been more of a 'don't ask, don't tell' kind of person."

Poire smiled. "I guess you're right," she told her sister, thinking her brother was surely wrong, that it was possible he had seen things from his imagination. After all, children did like making up stories, and Poire knew this all too well.

A couple walked past them. Hand in hand, they laughed without a care in the world. Annabelle watched them attentively. "Poire?" she said. "I need to tell you something."

Poire paused in her tracks as they arrived in front of the train station that bustled with people walking left and right, some with luggage, others with crying children in their arms.

"Is something wrong?" Poire asked her.

Annabelle shook her head. A grin took her lips. "No," she said, her voice soft and filled with warmth, "nothing's wrong, Poire." She looked down to her stomach and said, "Can... Can I speak to you about it once we've arrived?"

"Of course!" Poire blurted. "I just..." She scratched her elbow and rested her weight on her left leg. Peering up to the illuminations above the station, the clock that towered above the timetable filled with names of villages and cities she did not all know, Poire said, "I just hope it's not bad news."

Annabelle's smile grew wider. She ruffled Poire's fluffy hair and giggled. "No, Poire," she said, "it's nothing like that. Don't worry."

Poire watched as her sister took the lead and walked toward the ticket counter. Poire knew it was surely an effect of the artificial lights surrounding them, however, as Annabelle turned around and called her over with a brief gesture of her hand, Poire thought she had a certain glow to her figure which made Annabelle look radiant in the most amazing of ways.

As Poire followed Annabelle into the station, she wondered if one day she, too, would reach such a point in her life—where she would also be able to smile as freely as her sister was now.