The Flower Girl

Chapter One Camilla stared at a yet another lump of freshly turned earth. Flowers would have looked nice there. They were innocent and cheerful, the sort of things that should be planted at the garden center. Camilla loved flowers and she loved Mrs. Martin, who had hired her through a program that helped mentally handicapped people find jobs. Yet, there were no flower bulbs under this rich Alabama loam. Something disquieting lay beneath this plot that lay behind the concrete loading zone. Camilla had noticed freshly spaded soil several weeks ago. Upon excavating, she found a hand beneath the soil. Feeling sure it didn’t belong there, she kept digging. When she uncovered the shoulders and head, she understood the stranger must be deceased. She decided not to tell Mrs. Martin, what she had discovered. She didn’t want to upset her. That seemed a poor way to thank someone, who had had been kind enough to hire her. She covered the dead man carefully and left him in peace, as one should do for the departed. She didn’t dig beneath the new protrusion of dirt. She didn’t want to see another face. She didn’t like dead faces. They were too still, too cold. Fortunately, Camilla was the only one who ever went to the back lot to fetch trees and large shrubs. Consequently, she was the only one who saw the disturbed earth. She thought if she were smarter, she might be able to figure out why two bodies lay buried. Not having this gift, she doubted she would ever know. So, she shook her head and set about watering. Mrs. Martin called to her. “Camilla, could you bring the small Magnolias? I’ve got a spot where I want to set them out.” “Sure." Forgetting the burial plot, she wheeled the shiny metal cart to the trees and set them onto the flatbed. When she got all six trees to the front of the store, she lifted them out and displayed them under Mrs. Martin direction. The short, thin woman had the nervous manner of a hummingbird. Her shirtwaist dresses and short curly hair made her a throwback to the fifties. When the job was finished, Camilla dusted her hands on her dirty jeans and gazed at her employer. “Thanks for hiring me, Mrs. Martin.” “You’re welcome, Camilla. You don’t have to keep thanking me. You’re a hard worker. “We’re glad to have you.” “Thank you, Mrs. Martin.” Mrs. Martin sighed. “I just got in an order of bulbs. Open the boxes and set the packages up for display.” Camilla knelt on the floor and opened the boxes. Inside, were packages of tulips, lacy daffodils, and gladiolas. Camilla loved flowers. Every now and then, Mrs. Martin would give her damaged flowers to take home. Camilla nursed them back to health and planted them in her garden. She had a pretty garden in the yard of the house she’d shared with Mama. She wished Mama was alive to see it. Mama had loved flowers, too. Fortunately, there were no bodies buried in the flowerbeds at home. Camilla surely would have noticed them. She pushed the disquieting images from her mind. There was nothing she could do for the dead men and shouldn’t be staring into space when she had work to do. She began sorting the bulbs onto the metal rack, setting apart a package of Pink Cloud daffodils and re-blooming iris to buy for herself. She had a small sum left over from her last paycheck. Even though Mrs. Martin gave her a discount, she always spent a hefty portion of it on flowers. Not that it mattered. She lived alone and had few expenses. She was happy with what little cash she put away in her secret hiding place in a box under the bed. Sometimes when she found unexpected cash around the house, she figured Mama came from the grave to leave it. Mama had always been good to her. A customer glanced through the bulbs. When Camilla looked up, he smiled at her. He had a tanned face like the cowboys on television. She stood to assist him, to find she was a head shorter. She dusted off her hands and smiled at him. “Can I help you find something?” “I’m sure you can.” He watched her in a way that made her feel self-conscious. It seemed like he was admiring her. It couldn’t be true. She had buck teeth, bad skin, and short stringy hair. And she was at least fifteen pounds overweight. More likely, he felt sorry for her. He gestured to the outdoor, canopied greenhouse. “I just had my first house built and I want to do some landscaping. I thought a few rose bushes and plants for the flower beds would be a good start. What do you think would look nice?” Camilla felt uncertain. She wanted to be careful advising him, as this was a big decision. Gardens were important. “I could get Mrs. Martin. She knows more than I do.” The man’s deep blue eyes captivated her. “I didn’t ask for Mrs. Martin. I want you to help me.” Camilla scratched her head, trying to decide where to start. “You’ll want roses. Those are out on the patio.” She led the way through the side door out of the store. On a stone patio, the pots of rose bushes were arranged in rows. Feeding and tending the roses was one of Camilla’s favorite jobs. “I can show you which ones I have in my yard,” Camilla said. “I’d like that. I bet you have great taste in landscaping.” “I love caring for gardens.” Camilla was in her element now and feeling enthusiastic. “I have a mix of white, red and pink roses. I planted mine in the back of my yard along the fence. I have two yellow bushes in my front yard, one on either side of the door.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew photos. “This is the front of my house. And this is the backyard.” Camilla caught her lip between her teeth. It was a very plain yard. The only pretty spot was where a pecan tree was planted. Other than that, the ground was bare. She didn’t like the house much, either. It was too modern for her taste. “I would make a flower bed with a brick border around the tree in the front yard. Ferns would be pretty along the front of the house. And you could do a climbing rose on a trellis in between the windows.” Camilla pointed a dirt-soiled finger at the spot. “I like that. What about the backyard?” Camilla studied the photo. A concrete patio stood in front of a sliding glass door. The rest of the yard was dirt. “I would do a flower garden against the back of the house and all along the fence. A garden around the tree would look nice, too.” “What kind of flowers?” “Mixed, I think.” “Pick them out for me, would you? Price is no problem.” “Really?” This would be fun. Camilla had never gotten to design a yard from scratch. They pushed a wheeled cart down the rows of flowers. Camilla popped in pots of daffodils, ferns, verbena, phlox, petunias, pansies, inpatients and daisies. In the right combination, they’d look fantastic. After half a morning of choosing, they parked the cart by the check-out and collected the roses. When Camilla finished his order, she wheeled the rose bushes to the check-out counter. The man said, “Could you sketch how you think I should plant these?” Camilla scratched her nose. She did have a mental picture in mind. “Okay, I’ll try.” She got a pen and paper and began to draw in the flowers, labeling them as she went while Mrs. Martin rang up the purchase. Camilla showed him the sketch. “I think this will look good.” He studied it. “Perfect. How about coming to my house to see it when I’m finished? If I’ve made any mistakes, you can tell me.” Was he flirting? Alarm made her pulse jump. She wasn’t the kind of girl men noticed. “I don’t go out much.” “You’re kidding, a pretty girl like you?” Now she knew he must be joking. Perhaps, he was teasing her, for she was not pretty. Her cheeks grew warm. She wished he would pay for the flowers and go away. “I’ll be at the Renaissance Club on Congress Avenue if you do feel like getting out tonight. About eight o’clock.” “Like I said, I don’t go out.” He shook his head. “Pity. My name’s Charles, in case you change your mind.” She nodded, avoiding his eyes, wondering how he could be so cruel as to keep pressing her. He wouldn’t want to be seen with her if she really did show up.” “I better get back to work.”She returned to the task of sorting the bulbs while Charles rolled his cart of flowers to the parking lot. Mrs. Martin paused beside her. “That young man was certainly interested in you.” She looked up. “Why?” “I don’t know, Camilla. I guess he thought you were nice. Maybe you should think about meeting him.” “I’m not smart like him. He wouldn’t like me.” “Smart isn’t everything, dear. Some people are drawn to your sweet disposition.” Camilla flushed again. This time it was with pleasure. Mrs. Martin thought she was sweet. It was a much better compliment than Charles’ teasing. She was in a good mood for the rest of the day. When she got home, she parked her old Dodge Dart in the garage and began taking out her flowers. She had already decided where to plant them. It was nearly all she’d had on her mind all afternoon. It was early summer in Mobile, Alabama. Glancing up, she saw gray towering thunderheads that promised the rain that was a common occurrence of life here. A warm, bay breeze stirred, ruffling the leaves on the peonies that grew on each side of the gate. Her flowers thrived in the humid climate. Once she planted them, rains kept them watered. She carried the rest of the plants to the backyard, and closed the gate. She loved the controlled overgrowth of the backyard, a place where the chain link fence was hidden behind a thick hedge of ligustrum that afforded complete privacy. Not that she ever did anything requiring privacy. Still, it was nice to sit out on a plastic lawn chair on a warm summer evening and enjoy the garden, without anyone to disturb her. The only visitors she ever had were her twin cousins, Evie and Tamara She’d been glad when they moved to town and attended her grade in high school. No one at school liked Camilla and Evie and Tamara had become her only friends. They’d spent hours up in Camilla’s room talking and laughing. They didn’t seem to mind that she was slow. In fact, they didn’t seem to notice. Though they didn’t live with her, they left clothes and make-up at her house. She didn’t mind. Those two liked to get dressed-up, as well they should, for they were as beautiful as she was homely. Occasionally, they all went out for fast food or a movie. The only place Camilla went without them was to work or a quick trip to the grocery store. She didn’t like to be in public alone. She often wondered what it would be like to go to concerts and bars like they did, to be admired and to meet men. Tamara, the most social, said it wasn’t that great. She thought men were jerks. Still, Camilla was curious. She remembered the man at the garden store. Tamara would have known how to handle him. She would have easily put him in his place, leaving him eating out of her hand. Camilla would tell Tamara about him when she saw her. Now, her new plants needed attention. She focused her energy on the spots already picked out for them. The fern would go into the garden along the fence, and the zinnias would look bright and cheerful in the bed beneath the trees. The alyssum would go along the bricks to make a round border and the periwinkle would be pretty in the wooden planter that sat along the side of the flat concrete patio. Camilla worked intently. By the time the first fat drops of rain fell, she had everything in the ground. Mama would be proud of the way she kept up the yard. Mama had always kept the gardens neat. They’d spent many glorious hours working together, mowing the lush lawn of St. Augustine grass, weeding the flower beds and digging more gardens.