For there is a sound reasoning upon all flowers. For flowers are peculiarly the poetry of Christ.
—CHRISTOPHER SMART
Gideon rose well before dawn to milk the cows. He was on the third one when his daed walked into the barn.
“Nearly done?” Daed asked.
“Ya.” The splashing sound of the milk hitting the bucket filled the barn.
“You must have started early.”
“I wanted to finish so I could check on Rachael . . . er, Eli.”
His father smiled. “I know who you meant.” Then he grew serious. “How is she?”
“Fine.” He patted the cow’s flanks and picked up the bucket. He walked over and poured the milk into a larger trough. “I promise I won’t be gone all day.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Daed pulled his hat over his brow. “We’ll take up the slack for a little while.”
“Danki.” He handed his father the bucket. “Have at it.”
His father smirked and took the bucket. Gideon was almost out the door when Daed called after him.
“Does she make you happy?”
He looked at his father. They’d never talked about Rachael before, even though he obviously knew about Gideon’s feelings for her. Were things between him and Rachael exactly the way he wanted them? No. But he accepted that now. He treasured their friendship. No matter what, he wanted Rachael to be a part of his life. “Ya. She does.”
“That’s what counts. Geh on. And take your time over there.”
Gideon grinned and left the barn. He stepped outside into the warm sunshine. He tilted his head toward the sun, taking in its warming rays, which seemed to seep straight into his soul.
He headed for her house. When he got to the gate, something on the ground caught his eye. A yellow rose. He’d nearly stepped on it. He picked it up, recognizing it from the variety of roses she had on several trellises on the west side of her garden. They had survived the hail assault. It was small, a little underdeveloped. A card was attached.
He smiled. She’d discovered his secret after all. He looked at the card.
Friendship.
His heart sank. She couldn’t be clearer than that. But that didn’t change his mind or how he felt. He opened the gate and latched it behind him. A thought occurred to him. Although no one could predict something as destructive as a hailstorm, he could help protect her garden from deer and other pesky critters by fixing the latch on the gate so that it would close on its own.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another rose lying on top of the dirt bed he’d smoothed out yesterday. This one was pink. The card said Joy. This one was a little better. He smiled, glad she was happy.
He lifted his head at a shrill whistle coming from the back of the garden. He walked to the partly finished greenhouse. A hand appeared in the window, holding a white rose. Just as he started toward the greenhouse, the hand and flower disappeared. He ran to the other side of the wall.
She wasn’t there. He looked on the ground. Gideon chuckled as he picked up the white rose. He read the card. New Beginnings. So roses had meanings too, just like the other flowers. But what did New Beginnings mean?
“Gideon.”
He turned to see Rachael coming out from behind the oak tree. Her smile hit him square in the chest, the look in her beach-glass eyes nearly buckled his knees. “Rachael,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
She looked at the flowers in his hand. “I see you got my messages.”
“I see you figured out mei secret.” He walked toward her. “I hope you liked them.”
“I did. A lot.” She moved closer. “And I’d hoped it was you.”
“You did?”
She held a flower. A small red rose. “Here. To complete your bouquet.”
“I have to say, I’ve never had anyone give me flowers before.” He looked at the rose. “What does this one mean?”
“Love.”
Rachael’s mouth grew dry as she waited for Gideon’s reaction. For a moment, she thought she’d made a mistake. What man would want flowers? When he didn’t say anything, dread pooled inside her. She’d been too eager to surprise him. Then she used the word love. Now she was probably scaring him away.
“There are different kinds of love,” she said, trying to fix this. “Friendship love, for example.” She giggled, but it faded when he didn’t smile.
“Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That you love me . . . as a friend?” He pushed up his glasses.
“Uh, not exactly.”
He held the roses at his side. “Rachael, I need to be straight with you.”
She gripped the red rose. One tiny thorn pressed into her skin, but she barely felt it.
“The flowers weren’t mei idea. They were Hannah Lynn’s.”
“They were?” The dread tightened inside.
“She thought it would be a nice surprise. I think it ended up being more of a game to her. She found the flowers and told me what they meant.”
“I see.” Rachael turned around, her cheeks flaming. And here she thought he’d put a lot of thought and effort into finding just the right words. The right flowers. Instead he just let his sister do it. He was the delivery boy.
“Rachael, look at me.” When she didn’t turn, she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Please.”
She spun around but didn’t look up at him.
“I shouldn’t have let Hannah Lynn talk me into it.”
She wondered if he realized how he was twisting the knife. “It’s okay.”
“Nee, it’s not. I never wanted you to get the wrong idea.”
Too late for that.
“But I’m not gut with words.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder. “I usually say the wrong thing.”
“Gideon, I’ve never known you to say the wrong thing.”
“I’m pretty sure I have now. You look upset.”
She pressed the rose against her chest. “I’m not upset.” She tried to laugh, but it came out sounding like she was choking on a lemon. “And the flowers . . . I just wanted to show you how much I appreciated what you did for me yesterday.”
“They’re nice.” He took the rose from her. “I like this one most of all.”
His words took her off guard. “You do?”
“Ya.” He moved closer. “It says what I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time.” Gideon touched the end of her chin with one of the rose’s soft petals. “I care for you, Rachael. Not as a friend. You mean a lot more to me than that.”
Her heart flipped over as he took her hand in his. “Gideon, you’re wrong.”
“What?”
“You are gut with words.” She tilted her face to him. “You just said the perfect thing.”
He bent forward and kissed her, pressing his lips so sweetly against hers she thought she might float away. Then he pulled her against him, and she felt him rest his chin on the top of her head.
“I thought I’d scare you off,” he said, his voice sounding a little breathless. “That’s why I never said anything.”
“And here I thought I scared you off.” She took a step back. “How long have you felt this way?”
“Pretty much since I met you.”
She laughed. “Purple.”
“What?”
“Purple roses. Those mean love at first sight.” Her laughter faded. “If I had one, I’d give it to you.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her again. When they parted, she glanced down, seeing the rose between them. “We crushed it,” she said.
He glided his thumb across her cheek. “Don’t worry, we’ll grow more. In your grienhaus.”
“But it’s not finished yet.”
He smiled. “It will be soon. Because we’ll build it together. Remember what I said? How you don’t have to do things alone? I meant it.”
She stepped away from him, suddenly inspired. “I was thinking about how to seal the old windows once the walls are built. Grossdaadi has a box of caulk in the barn. Don’t ask me why, but he does. Also, we need to build shelves inside—”
He kissed her silently. When he pulled away, he said, “Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay? I’ve waited so long for this . . . we can put the grienhaus, and everything else, on hold. At least for a little while.”
She snuggled against him, the greenhouse becoming a memory in the back of her mind. He was right. She’d waited for them to be together too.
As she leaned against his chest, Rachael thanked God for her blessings. For so long she focused on her work, on worrying about how she would do everything, instead of concentrating on what was right in front of her—family, Gideon, and love. She vowed to change that, to enjoy life, no matter what happened. With God and Gideon by her side, she could face anything.