Trish stood in the colorful field of blooms. A light breeze made her free-flowing curls bounce gently against her face. Her shoes made a pattern in the soft dirt as she spun slowly, taking in the scene around her. Rolling hills of green stretched into the distance and mountains peaked just out of reach of the summer sun as it rose higher into the blue afternoon sky. The smell of moist dirt and trimmed grass filled her nostrils. Little bubbles of sweat dotted her arms but each blow of the breeze cooled her skin.
Dez stood on the path that meandered through the flower fields and back to the greenhouse. He looked at the screen of his camcorder, watching Trish admire the beauty around them. She didn't smile or anything, but she had a calm look on her face that made him want to stand still and watch. He shook his head and closed the camera before walking up to her.
She didn't acknowledge him, not really realizing that he was near. She bent down and held the petals of a flower between her fingertips. A small smile began to bud on her lips as she thumbed the velvety texture. At that moment, Dez felt the corners of his own lips tugging upward and he became aware of himself and more aware of the fact that he had been staring at her in silence the entire time. He scrunched his nose at the thought of staring at her for so long.
"Who's ready to get started?" Dez shouted, clapping his hands together. "I am!" he said, raising his arm and waving it in the air.
"Don't be doofy. This is already off to a bad start," Trish said, rolling her eyes.
"Uh ah," Dez said. He pressed his finger to her lips. "We be nice now." Trish scowled but nodded her head beneath his finger. He smiled and took away his finger. "So, checkout what I've been helping Austin with." He spread out his arms in the flower field. "Pretty sweet, huh."
"It's alright," Trish said shrugging her shoulders. She picked up a bag she had brought into the field with her and pulled out Ally's laptop. "Now, down to business." She stepped around him and walked over to a patch of thick grass. She sat down and pointed to the spot beside her for Dez to sit.
"Ally's trusting me to get this floral arrangement business off the ground," Trish said.
"You?" Dez said, taking his seat beside her. "Don't you mean us?"
"No, I mean me. I'm doing all the real work. Marketing, setting up the website, making sure orders are taken correctly and payments are processed. You're just menial labor."
Dez crossed his arms and said, "Now who's off to a bad start. You're not good at this team work thing."
"I'm the best at team work, now do what I say!"
"No!" Dez stood up. "I'm going to come up with bouquets in the greenhouse by myself. You can do all the bossy boring stuff at the house."
"Fine!"
"He's the one being difficult," Trish grumbled to herself as she stomped back to the house. She entered the kitchen from the patio garden.
Ally stood shredding carrots onto a wooden cutting board at the kitchen island. Trish tried to sneak past her, but Ally called out her name without looking up from the board.
"Are you getting along with Dez?" Ally asked in that motherly authoritarian tone that made Trish stop walking.
She rotated on her heels and feigned a smile at Ally, who was still shredding.
"I'm on my way to see him right now," Trish said. "Super excited about this project."
Ally paused with a carrot in her hand and looked from beneath her brow at Trish.
"You remember our talk earlier, right?"
Trish sighed and threw her head back, saying, "Gee, yes mom. Sheesh, are you going to show me old baby photos and take me shopping for prom too?"
"You'd love if I took you shopping," Ally said, slicing through the rest of the carrot.
Trish grinned at that, folding her hands beneath her chin and leaning on the kitchen island. "Is that a possibility? I haven't been shopping in what feels like decades and I'm itching to get some summer wedges."
Ally slid the carrot shavings into a mixing bowl, saying, "You're in hiding. Go work with Dez."
Trish frowned then swiped a carrot off the counter and left out the door she came in.
Dez stood at the long table in the greenhouse. It stretched from almost one end of the greenhouse to the other and its wood surface was painted white. It was hard to see any of that white with different types of flowers, plants, and pottery scattered on top of it. The crate of ribbons and colorful lace he had carried down from the Moons' house was tipped and spilling its contents off the edge of the table. Dez stretched his long arms, holding up crinkly, clear wrapping paper. The sunlight beamed through the tinted glass, making the paper shimmer, and the fan on the dirt floor made the paper rustle.
He nodded at nothing in particular, his tongue sticking out slightly at the side of his mouth. He put the paper down then stepped to the side with his hands on his hips.
Trish walked in to see him staring down at three flowers placed in a row in front of him. She shook her head then walked around to the other side of the table. She placed her bag down on a clutter-free spot, took the laptop out of her bag, and then sat down on the bench beneath the table.
Dez looked up at the girl across from him. He opened his mouth to speak but Trish spoke before he got a chance to.
"Ally made me," she said.
He closed his mouth, shifting his eyes back down to the flowers.
The whirring of the fan, the snipping of ribbon, and the clicking of keyboard keys were the dominant sounds inside the greenhouse. Trish drafted a list of things she and Dez would need for the floral arrangement business and a checklist of things they needed to get done. More than once she had to fight the temptation to sign into her Instagram account. But the thought of impressing Ally and showing off her planning skills overrode her desire to break the rules of her caretaker. Plus there was more than enough work to do to keep her distractions at bay.
An hour into her work, she looked up to see Dez still standing in the same position, still looking down at the same three flowers.
"You're kidding me," she said.
Dez didn't budge. Trish leaned to the side and titled her head to get a better look at his eyes. They were locked on the flowers. She straightened up, frowning. His fingers tapped against his hips and one foot taped delicately against the dirt floor. The fan blew strands of his hair but he didn't move to flatten them down.
Trish leaned out of her seat and snapped her fingers up at him.
"Earth to Dez. Hello?"
He pressed his thin finger to her lips again and shushed her without looking up.
She slapped his hand away and said, "Stop doing that."
Sighing, he finally lifted his eyes from the flowers and said, "Woman, do you not understand that I'm trying to create art. I need complete focus if I'm going to get any work done."
"You've been standing there for an hour! Do you know how much work I've done? Your job isn't even difficult." She reached to the far side of the table and picked up two random flowers by their long stems. She took twine and tied the stems together. "Flowers, ribbon, done. Sell it to the highest bidder for her stupid wedding."
Dez gasped and tried to untie the flowers. "Do you really want Ally's business to fail? With this, this monstrosity!" He shook the tied flowers and spit on the ground for good measure.
Trish shook her head in her hands and plopped down on the bench, muttering, "We were wrong."
"Huh?"
She swung her legs over the bench and stood up, closing the laptop, and tucking it under her arm.
"We were wrong, Dez. It's been one day and we still can't get along. We'll never get along. We're too different. You're crazy and, well, I'm not."
She started walking toward the greenhouse door, but Dez reached out and caught her by the elbow.
"Whoa, wait," he said. "You actually sound upset about that."
She sighed and turned back to him. "I don't know. Maybe a part of me, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep…"
"The point, Trish."
"A part deep down inside wanted to do this stupid flower business with you to prove Ally wrong. To show her I could get along with you and not act so, I guess some might say 'ungrateful' for the Moons' help or whatever." She turned on her heels again and said, "But I can't."
Dez ran in front of her and spread out his arms to keep her from leaving.
"Hey," he said, dropping his arms to his side. "Don't go." He looked around the greenhouse and spotted a stool on the far side, away from the long table. "Look," he said, taking her by the shoulders and steering her toward the stool. "Sit here and work on your boring stuff."
"Dez…"
"Give me one more hour. Keep working on your side of things and in one hour come over to the table."
Trish didn't say anything, but she sat on the stool.
"That's right," Dez said. He pulled the laptop from under her arm, opened it, and placed it on her lap. He took a step back and held up one finger and said, "One hour."
"One hour," Trish repeated before clicking away at the keys and tuning out the world again.
Trish closed the laptop and placed it on the stool behind her. Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms in the air, releasing the tension in her muscles from sitting hunched over for so long. She opened her and they settled on the long table. There in the same position as before were the three flowers, but no Dez. Trish grimaced and walked over to the table.
"Why the heck did I trust that…" she started when she heard rustling ahead of her.
She looked up to see Dez stepping around a tall green plant in the corner where garden supplies were stacked in big buckets. His arms were behind his back and he had a blue ribbon tied around his head. Trish felt her fury falter when a goofy smile spread across his face, wrinkling the ribbon around his forehead, but she quickly recovered.
"You just love getting on my nerves don't you," she said.
He walked up to her and bent down on one knee, his smile not breaking once.
"You don't care about this project at all!" Trish continued to fuss.
Wordlessly, Dez pulled a bouquet from behind him and lifted it up to Trish. Her jaw dropped and words ceased to come out. Her eyes traced over the petals of the flowers in the bouquet. Each various shape of the different flowers formed a beautiful pattern that was interlaced with silky ribbon and dotted with baby's breath and greenery.
"Admit it, you'd marry the guy holding this arrangement of flowers," Dez said.
Trish broke out of her stupor and said, "Excuse me?"
"This is art," Dez said, standing up and pressing the flowers into Trish's chest. "Look at the colors," he wafted his hand over the flowers, "Smell the fragrance. Every bride will want Austin and Ally's flowers for their wedding; for their engagement parties; for their anniversaries. Everything, Trish!"
In his excitement, Dez threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight.
She quickly pushed him away and said, "Don't squish the bouquet!"
He wagged his finger at her and said, "I knew you'd like it. Now apologize."
Trish carefully placed the flowers on the table and said, "For what."
"For not trusting me."
Trish rolled her eyes then looked fondly at the flowers in front of her. She folded her arms over her chest and said, "It really is beautiful." She looked over her shoulder at him. "We'll need a name for the arrangement."
Dez's eyes didn't waver from the bouquet. His voice came out almost like a whisper as he said, "The Carrie."
Trish felt a pang of guilt and shifted uncomfortably on her heels. She nodded then went back to her stool on the other side of the greenhouse.
"Good work. Get started on the next one," she said.
Ally spread the last of the cream cheese frosting around the base of the two-layered carrot cake. She pulled back the spatula, sticking her tongue out for a quick taste, and grinned at her work. She put the spatula in the sink and inhaled deeply. Her kitchen smelled like warm cinnamon and cake batter. She heard footsteps in the hall and smiled, turning to wrap her hands beneath the glass cake stand. She moved it to the round table by the doors leading to the patio, placing it gently in the center. She turned in time to smile at her dad as he walked into the kitchen.
"Look what I made, Dad," she said, in that same tone she would use as a little kid when showing him the latest "A" she made on a test. She waved her hand at the cake and said, "It's your favorite: carrot cake with Grandma's secret-recipe frosting."
Mr. Dawson rubbed his hands together and hunched his shoulders, saying, "Oh! Cut me a big boy piece!" He quickly pulled up a seat to the table as his daughter chuckled.
She had already set out two plates, two forks, and two napkins for the two of them. She cut ridiculously big slices and plopped them onto the plates before sitting in the chair beside her dad. They clang their forks together and dug in.
"So good," Mr. Dawson sighed. Frosting hung off his lip.
Ally mimicked him and tossed her head back slightly, saying, "I just want to only eat this cake for the rest of my life."
She dipped her head forward and wiped her chin with her napkin. She looked at her father fondly. He bounced a little in his seat, enjoying each bite of cake and humming contentedly. It reminded her of when it was just the two of them in their own little house, eating cake before dinner and laughing at each other's goofy jokes.
"I'm really glad you're here, Dad. With the training, and paper work, and everything happening so fast, I feel like we don't really get to see each other anymore."
Mr. Dawson paused in his chewing and looked at his daughter.
"Ally," he began. His cellphone rang, interrupting him. He huffed. "One second, honey." He put the phone to his ear and said, "Hello? ...Oh yes, director." He wiped his face with his napkin and stood. "Yes, I briefed them," he said as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ally alone at the table.
Ally picked up her fork and poked at the sides of her slice of cake. When she didn't feel like waiting any longer, she put the fork down. Picking up the unfinished plates, she sat them in the sink and then wiped her hands on her flour stained apron. She inhaled the sweet smell one more time then left the kitchen.
Austin gently knocked his knuckles against the open door to Ally's music room, leaning his hip against the doorframe.
"Hey, where have you been?" he asked.
Ally sat at the piano, slowly sliding her finger back and forth across the keys. She stopped and gave him a weak smile.
"Around," she said.
She patted the space beside her on the bench. Austin walked in and sat beside her.
"Hey," she said, looking up at him.
"Hey," he said back.
She shifted her eyes back to the black and white keys. Her fingers hovered over them before landing softly against them as she began to play. Austin recognized the tune and nodded at the keys, asking for permission to join her. She scooted over to give him elbow room and he started to play along. They just sat there for a while, playing music together until Ally's weak smile grew into a full, genuine one.
"What have you been up to?" Ally asked when they finished playing.
"Eating sink cake with Dez," Austin replied.
Ally furrowed her brows and opened her mouth to ask for more details but decided against it.
Austin patted his stomach and said, "You're going to be married to a fat old man."
She poked his belly and laughed, saying, "But you'll be my fat old man."
He pouted and said, "No, you're supposed to say, 'Honey, you'll never get fat and you'll have that sweet bod forever.'"
Ally shook her head and said, "Fine. Honey, you'll never get fat."
"And…"
"And I hope you left me some sink cake," she said playfully. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too."
He wrapped his arms around her back and she rested her head against his shoulder.
"I think my dad has to cut his visit short again," she said softly. "I think that's the hardest part about his job, our job. I miss him."
Austin leaned down and kissed her forehead. "How do you feel about moving heavy equipment and standing on wobbly ladders?" he asked, his lips brushing against her forehead. He felt wrinkles form in her confusion and grinned.
Only one light shone in the den as Trish stepped down the stairs in her pajamas. At the last step, she looked around the empty den and raised an eyebrow. She glanced at the large decorative clock mounted on the wall and hummed, wondering where everyone was. For the past few nights, everyone spent time in the den, messing with the television or reading a book; well, Ally reading a book.
"Okay," Trish mumbled to herself before heading to the kitchen.
Dez was standing at the fridge when Trish walked in. He was peering at a piece of stationary held to with fridge with a banana magnet.
She walked up behind him, asking, "What does it say?"
"Meet us by the shed where we keep the tractor," Dez read.
Trish rolled her eyes, saying, "We're really in the boonies, huh. They actually have a tractor?"
Dez took her hand and pulled her toward the door, saying, "Ooh, come on! It sounds like a surprise! I love surprises!"
"Wait! Let me grab some shoes!" Trish shouted, her feet sliding behind Dez on the hardwood floor.
Once they were outside, Trish had put on a light sweater she had swiped from Austin and ugly sneakers Ally had bought for Trish the last time she went to the market. She followed Dez until they reached the tractor's shed.
"Cool!" Dez exclaimed.
The shed was metal and gray and large with a slab of concrete paved in front of it. But the trees around it had been strung with white lights, glowing in the dark. Over the concrete, a colorful rug had been rolled out and standing lamps were placed on its corners. Big fluffy pillows were piled at one edge of the carpet and a projector shone rotating colorful lights against the shed.
Austin stood in front of a stool on the carpet, holding a guitar. Ally stood beside a piano that had been wheeled out to the shed. And a silver trumpet was propped on its stand.
"What's all this?" Trish asked, smiling at the pretty seen under the moonlight.
"Hey, guys. Hey, dad," Ally said, smiling as her father walked up behind Trish and Dez.
"Ally?" Mr. Dawson asked, standing between Trish and Dez.
"Want to jam, Mr. Dawson?" Austin said, picking up the trumpet and holding it out in front of him. "Ally says she gets all her talent from you."
Mr. Dawson grinned. "Maybe not all of it," he teased. He took the trumpet and stretched his fingers. "Let's see. It's been a while." He popped his lips a few times then licked them. "Okay."
He put the instrument to his lips and began to play. At first he kept his eyes open, but he gradually let them flutter shut and he swayed his body gently to the sound of the music he played. Austin took a step back and sat on the stool. He began to strum the guitar. Ally watched her dad in admiration. She sat at the piano and joined in.
Music filled the air and Dez and Trish listened. Dez couldn't keep his foot from tapping or his fingers from snapping. Trish moved over to the pillows and stretched out. She closed her eyes and listened to the music, enjoying the relaxing sound and the gentle breeze of the summer night air.
After everyone retired for the night, Ally sat with her father in the kitchen.
"I'm going to miss you, Dad."
"I'm going to miss you too. But you're the whole reason I took this job. Being on the inside of the agency is the best way I can ensure that you and Austin are safe. And that his family's legacy," Mr. Dawson waves his hand around the kitchen, "this wonderful place, is safe too."
Ally reached out and hugged her father. He held her tight and patted her back before letting her go. He drummed his fingers on the table and struggled with what he wanted to say next.
"What's wrong, Dad?"
"You know, Ally," he said, keeping his eyes cast down on the kitchen table. "If you miss your family, you could always call your mother. She would love to come and visit and…"
"No she wouldn't, Dad," Ally cut him off. He looked up at her but she held up her hand and shook her head, not wanting to hear any more about it.
Mr. Dawson zipped his fingers over his lips then held up his hands. He put them down and said, "Even though I have to go, the agency is sending someone over in the next week or so. For combat training."
"Combat training?"
Mr. Dawson nodded. "Yep. He's supposed to be top-notch too. Mixed-martial arts; taekwondo; fencing. I don't see much need for that last one, but self-defense is important for caretakers. Even for my sweet not-so-little-anymore girl."
He patted Ally's shoulder and stood up from the table.
"Goodnight, sweetie," he said.
"Goodnight, Dad."
Austin walked into the kitchen early that next morning to see Trish chugging a glass of orange juice.
"Hey, Austin," she said, putting the glass in the sink. "I need your help." She washed her hands then moved to stand in front of him.
"You're awake? On purpose? Without being dragged out of bed?" Austin said. He pressed his hands in the air like a mime stuck in a box. "Is this like some alternate dimension or something?"
"Ha ha," Trish said. She tugged on his arm and said, "Seriously, though. I need your help in the greenhouse. It's super cluttered and Dez and I need a good space to work if you want your business to be successful. Oh, and more supplies. But first we need a good work environment." She pressed her fingers around his bicep and added, "So I need these." She pulled her hand away and said, "Now, meet me at the greenhouse in fifteen minutes."
Austin saluted her and said, "Sir, yes sir!"
She pointed her finger at him and said, "I will hurt you."
He smoothed his hand over his hair and rocked on his heels, saying, "Fifteen minutes. Got it." He raised his eyebrow and asked, "But why don't you just have Dez help you?"
"Because I asked you," Trish said, patting him on the shoulder with a smile. She walked toward the door and added, "Plus I want it to be a surprise." She looked over her shoulder and said quickly, "But only to prove to him that I'm a better worker than he is."
Austin smirked but she just squinted at him and turned away, walking out of the kitchen.