The Flower Maker

Chapter Eight

Wrapped in a scarf and wearing mittens, six year old Maddy shuffled into the shop and went over to the corner where she just stood there, staring at Rebecca as quiet as death. She always did that.

The first time Maddy had ever visited, Rebecca thought she had come to gawk at at her scar, her mark of rejection and failure, as if Rebecca was an animal at the zoo, but that wasn't the case.

'Hello, Maddy.'

Maddy didn't respond. She never did. Although, she always looked like she wanted to say something, her lips moving ever so slightly like she was rehearsing her words.

'It's getting colder out there with every passing day, isn't it? It'll be snowing soon.'

Not even a nod.

Rebecca knew nothing about the child except that she lived with her aunt and uncle, and for the tragedy they shared. Dead parents.

Maddy's presence always took Rebecca back to that day, when she found out that her parents had died. It had felt like walking in a suffocating fog of embers. Now, it had lessened to a river of drowning ash.

Even though Rebecca was reminded, Maddy's visits seemed to almost recharge her, washing away the day's solicitude.

'Does your aunt and uncle know you're here?'

Still nothing.

'I hope you don't get in trouble.'

Again, nothing.

'Well since you're here, do you want to come over and see what I'm making?'

Maddy fidgeted with her shoes this time.

'I'll tell you then, shall I?' Rebecca picked up a white narrow slip she had just cut from a sheet of cloth. 'This will become the petal of a lotus flower. Do you know about lotus flowers?' She didn't pause for a response. 'They're from the east and they bloom in bodies of water. What I'll do is dip the tip of the petal in pink dye, making it look real as possible. It will be beautiful.'

Maddy smiled before opening her mouth and getting out the start of something. A word? Well it was the first noise Rebecca had ever heard coming out of her mouth.

Rebecca did not press her, but went back to work, cutting out more petals. The snipping of scissors became the only sound and it felt as though a kaleidoscope of butterflies had transformed the shop into a magical far away land.

It was music to Rebecca's ears.

And a lullaby to Maddy's, for the little girl soon flittered down to the floor, curled up like a kitten and closed her eyes.

Rebecca could only wish to fall asleep, to dream. But she continued on with her work until she felt it was time for Maddy to go back home. She wrapped herself up comfortably with her coat, carefully picked the child up so not to wake her, and left the comfort of her pulsating, wing-filled enchanted world.