The Garden

"It's early yet. You'll find time," she told the fair skinned man in the black business suit and tie as she wrapped his flowers and the beautiful aroma of roses wafted up between them.

"Haha. I sure hope so," he chortled, his palms grasping the edge of the counter.

She wrapped the red ribbon tight around the bouquet, presenting him with an expertly arranged collection of red and spotted white.

He grinned happily as he watched her slender fingers tie the band around the roses, and his eyes danced with the light of eager expectation. "Hey, Dorothy, thank you!" the man said, brimming with exuberance. "I don't know what I would've done had you not been here. So few places are open."

"Yes, well... there are reasons for both those things," she reminded him.

"The closed I get. You being here, I don't," he moved his eyes from the flowers to her. "Why don't you come to the Kingsmen meetings?"

"Well, I..." she hesitated and the string slipped from its place, loosening the bow. "Blast!" she muttered softly.

"Dorothy, why not come with Louise and I to the congregation by the North Gate? Be our guest." He raised a finger with the idea.

"I... don't think so, Charlie," she said, maintaining a small, plastered grin as she attempted to retie the bow with shaking hands.

"Oh, come now, Dorothy! Why not?" he amicably protested. "Listen. Mr. Waverley has oversight, and he's the kindliest man you've ever met, I promise you!"

She smiled, pulling at the ends of the string which held the bright red bow around the deep green of the thorny stems of the dozen roses she had laid in the space between them. "I don't doubt he is," she replied softly, considering the beauty of the flowers she had wrapped for him. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes still focused softly on the roses. "It's bad timing just now, but... perhaps, some other time." She paused. "I would very much like to hear him."

He watched her with quiet concern, unsure of what to say as he caught the sadness in her steely blue eyes. "Alright, Dorothy, some other time," he replied softly, then smiled and added lightheartedly, "But I'll hold you to it!"

"Please do," she lithely requested, her lips parting to a small grin.

He smiled with a nod. "Sure thing, Dorothy."

"Thank you," she said softly. "And a happy anniversary to you, Charlie," she added, presenting him with the bouquet and a friendly smile. "I wish you and Louise all happiness." There was a quiet sincerity to her words, though her heart remained heavy with the dull pain of an old memory.

"Thanks! It really should be a good one," he replied, holding the bouquet tenderly in his arms with silent contemplation. He took a deep breath. "Wow... good old fashioned roses." He smiled. "Louise will love them. Take care now, Dorothy, and thanks again!" he said happily, tipping his hat to her as he made his departure.

"Bye now!" she called after him with a friendly wave of her hand, and the silver bell jingled as the door closed behind him.

The shop was empty, filled with the sweet scent of flowers of various kinds, and she breathed it in, resting her arms on the counter in front of her.

'Funny, I can still remember when flowers weren't such a rare thing, but to so many that's all they've ever been. Still...'

Her mind began to stray to dated images and distant memories of her father's work in the palace gardens and her subsequent time there, all the years she had admired the many colors of blossoms in bloom.

'There was such beauty then. Things seemed simpler, despite all of our uncertainties and questions. We thought of life and all that we had hoped it would give, all that we would hope to make of it, and we pondered why things happened and who we were meant to be.

'Even after those days with my father were passed and I and my brothers were grown, still I would walk in the gardens at night and often before dawn, and then, at times, I would find him there, considering the stars, and we would walk together in the garden, discussing life and dreams and wonderings.' She smiled fondly at the thought. 'There was such beauty for us then and life held such great promise.'

She glanced out the window at the bleakness of the maurium city. The image was marred by the raindrops which had begun to fall on the large windowpanes of the glass storefront. The cloud cover had captured the city and its people in a prison of darkness and shadows of grey.

'There was color once, but this seems more appropriate for the time, that that same beauty should be hidden in the midst of all of this decay.'

She smiled a sad smile, her cheek resting on her interlocked hands as she continued to look longingly through the glass.

At the same time, there was the faint sound of smooth stone sliding and a section of floor began to open up in front of her. Startled, she jumped back and refocused her attentions forward. An emerging staircase led up to the checkered floor of the small shop with its orderly displays of flowers.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the opening in the center of her floor. "Eliezer?"she called out, watching intently for the familiar form of her beloved companion.

"Hello, Dorothy!" his voice called back merrily. "I've brought company with me."

She felt a bit of relief, but not enough to stop her from reprimanding him for the carelessness of his action.

"Eliezer, you mad man!" she shot back with some vexation, airing her disapproval. She rushed around the desk to the main area, blocking the view of the hole through the glass front. "You realize it isn't yet three o'clock? The store is still open! Now, suppose that I had customers! What would I have done should the floor have opened up beneath them? Or beside! Why, Charles Dapper was here not moments ago! Surely, he'd have known you, and what would I have told him?"

"Dorothy," he said again, "please, listen. I didn't mean to alarm you, but I do have urgent business for us and we do have company, also."

"Eliezer, I swear, your parishioners will get me in trouble even before you can!" she said, continuing on without hearing. "The man keeps trying to get me to come to your meetings. He seems to be under the impression that I'd actually like you!"

"Well, one couldn't possibly be sure of such a thing as that! It seems a bit radical that someone should actually like me, particularly one such as yourself, fair damsel," he jested, stepping over the threshold of the stairs. His face wore a joking smile. "Now, I repeat, Miss Trimble, I have company with me."

He rubbed his thumb lightly against the tips of his index and middle finger, a nervous habit of his which she had grown used to seeing on occasion.

"Stop it," she said with an amused grin. "You, Mr. Waverley," she warned, wagging a finger at him, "are an incurable comic and entirely in the wrong. Why would you come here?"

"As I told you," he said, "I am here on business, and ehm..." he paused, looking around the room with a quick set of exaggerated glances, "the patrons don't seem to be much of a problem now, do they?" he smiled at her, his eyes alight with the glimmer of playful jest.

"But that isn't the point!" she argued with him softly. "It was reckless of you to come here now."

"No, my dear. I assure you, it would have been reckless of me had I not come," he said, moving past her to the door and flipping the open sign to closed. "Now, Miss Trimble, please," he quietly implored her, his eyes softly pleading, "kindly say hello to Avera."

Dorothy's eyes shot back to the opening of the passage to the tunnels, to the place where Avera now stood. "Avera! My goodness! Well..." her eyes glanced back over to Waverley, "you had said you had brought us some company, hadn't you?"

He offered her a short nod and a small smile.

"I'm sorry," she told him, quickly apologizing in gentle manner.

He returned the words with a look of forgiving fondness and smiled at her. "I see no trespass," he quietly assured her.

'Good.'

She felt a bit of relief and turned her attentions back to Avera.

"Hello, dear," she said, addressing the girl with her usual pleasantries.

Avera grinned, seemingly amused by them. "It's nice to see you, Miss Dorothy," she replied with a friendly wave of her hand.

"Yes," Dorothy said again, " it is a pleasant surprise to have you here, and under such odd circumstances, yet again." Avera laughed, and Dorothy passed a small grin at Waverley. "I may have to apologize for that."

"Or I might," he said, returning the grin, "...or Adrien might, being as he's the one who sent the letter by her."

Her eyes widened. "Adrien...? You've heard from him?"

He nodded, his own concern reflected in his caring eyes. "Yes. It seems that the ambush was more successful than we'd realized. They plan to use blood collected against Benjamin to find him. It seems that Zephyr has taken some great interest in his capture."

Dorothy's face twisted along with her stomach. "I see..." she said thoughtfully.

"You've read the reports on blood tracking which were delivered us. You know the dangers this brings. He will need our help. You asked why I had come. The reason is that I may request your assistance."

She nodded, appreciating the seriousness of the situation. "Yes, of course," she said, and her eyes steadfastly watched him.

He turned his attentions to the girl. "Avera, it may be best that we part company with you here. I wouldn't want to have you mixed up in this any more than you already are, certainly not unwittingly and without consent."

"I appreciate that," she told him, the light of the window reflecting in her dark round pupils.

"You will be heading home, then?" he readily inquired.

"Yes," she said with a nod.

He nodded thoughtfully and his eyes dropped, his face crinkled with concern. "Avera," he said, refocusing his gaze on the child again, "you do have somewhere you're staying?"

Avera's face broke into a small grin. "I do," she assured him. "I'm staying with a neighbor. My father appointed her as guardian."

Waverley smiled. "Good, then," he said with a nod of approval. "Come and see us when you're ready," he kindly invited. "You know where to find us now. It's no secret... well... to you, anyway. The others don't often come here, but I have difficulty staying away, and Dorothy..." he shot her a disapproving glance, "seems to follow me."

"Thank you," Avera said, "I'll be sure to stop back sometime and see you."

He opened the door for her, and they exchanged pleasantries in parting, Avera stopping for a moment to ask directions of Dorothy back to the main thoroughfare.

"Would you prefer that I not follow you?" she asked him once Avera had gone and the door was locked behind her.

He looked at her and smiled with a distinct and tender happiness. "Not at all. In fact, it's quite the opposite," he told her, his face breaking into a grin, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her along to the passageway behind him.