Wildflower (15 page)

Iris left Peter and went downstairs to sit with Preston.  He was awake when she walked into the room.  His face lit up. He looked so sickly that it saddened her.  She was used to his vibrant personality — full of life and energy.  Now he was weak, frail.  They’d shaved him for surgery.  She’d never seen his face hairless.  He had a sharp jawline and dimples.

“Wildflower,” he said in a near whisper.  He couldn’t speak louder. His throat was still sore from the breathing tube.

“Preston.”

“You’re not smiling. What’s wrong?”

“Stop talking. You sound terrible. Come on, let’s get you showered,” Iris said.

She helped Preston out of the bed and walked with him to the bathroom which was a walk-in shower.  She led him to the shower seat and removed his gown, her hair brushing against his face as she did so.  Holding the handheld shower head, she soaked him with the hot water until his body glistened under the fluorescent overhead lights. She was amazed at how defined he looked despite the weight loss he experienced.  Her hand moved in smooth strokes as she sponged soap on his body, being careful around his healing surgical scars.  He touched her hand and pulled her onto his lap.

“No, Preston,” she said, as she stood.  His hand caressed hers before it dropped to his lap.

She soaked his dreadlocks with water, massaging shampoo on his hair and scalp.  She saw his eyes close, leaning into her touch, suds gliding down his skin. He reached for her, grabbing hold of her waist, pulling her close to him.  With his face pressed to her stomach, he relished the warmth of her body. His wet face left an imprint on her sheer blouse when she stepped back.

While she rinsed the shampoo from his hair, they were silent. Preston seemed to enjoy her touch. When finished, she towel dried his hair and tied it back, moisturized his skin, then helped him into the recliner.

She pulled up a chair and sat beside him. They remained silent for a long while.  She was saddened by Sara’s death and concerned about Preston’s health.  And even though there was no doubt in her mind that she loved Preston, she was still trying to reconcile herself to all that she’d learned about him.  She held his hand in hers, cleaning his nails with her nail file she had pulled from her purse.

“You gave us all a scare. Especially me.  I wasn’t looking forward to being a widow.”

“Last I heard, you were looking forward to being single.”

“Don’t. Please — now isn’t the time to talk about that. Just get better.”

“But I need to know what I’ll be going home to. An empty condo or my beautiful wife?”

“Preston.”

“Iris.”

“I’ve got some bad news, and I don’t know if now would be a good time to tell you.”

He slowly shifted his body forward. The pain was excruciating. “What is it?”

“Peter’s wife died.  She had some condition that nobody discovered.  She died en route to the hospital.”

“That’s terrible. How is he?”

“He’s recovering from surgery.”

“Peter needs us right now.”

“No. You need to get well.  Pru and Richard are flying to Houston to get his daughter.  They were able to save the baby.”

“Praise God.”

Iris nodded. Again, they sat silently for a long stretch while Iris massaged lotion onto his feet.

“Wildflower?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being here.”

Iris went between both of her husbands — one her ex, the other her present — brothers who had been so at odds with each other, they couldn’t be in the same room together without a fight.  Now, Peter had saved Preston’s life again… losing another part of himself for the sake of his brother.

When Peter was well enough, he walked to Preston’s room to see him.  Iris was amazed at their interaction.  They laughed and joked about sharing the same body part — and about having the same dreams after the transplant.  Then they cried together as they talked about Sara and her unfortunate death.

Richard and Pru returned from Houston with baby Sara.  She was a beautiful little girl with dark black curly hair and fair skin.  She was a quiet one, and Pru doted over her the entire time.  Richard said he was afraid that she’d keep Peter’s daughter for herself.

One look at baby Sara and Peter fell apart.  Iris tried consoling him to no avail.  She didn’t realize how much Peter had loved Sara.  The way he had acted before, she thought that maybe he’d had second thoughts about his marriage.  But now it appeared that he had really loved her.

Iris smiled and cooed over the baby.  She held her and rocked her and told her cute stories about her mother, as if the baby understood.

***

Finally, Peter was discharged.  He visited Preston every day, bringing baby Sara so that Preston could see her.  Preston couldn’t hold her because his immune system was compromised by the immunosuppressant drugs he had to take to keep his body from rejecting the new kidney.  But he was able to see baby Sara through the window.

Slowly but surely, life went back to normal.  Mom and Dad went back to Los Angeles. Mom made frequent trips to Chicago to help take care of Preston until he was completely healed. Peter went back to Houston with baby Sara.  Richard and Pru went back to their lives.  And Iris continued to live with Idris, even though she went to Trump Tower every day to take care of Preston.

Summer was over and the leaves were beginning to change. The air was cooler and the humidity wasn’t as suffocating.  When Iris saw Preston on the closed circuit screen, she was surprised.  His quarantine period wasn’t over yet — he still had another month to remain indoors.  He buzzed again, this time looking at his watch.  She watched him pull out his phone and put it to his ear.  She heard her phone ringing.  She smiled.

“Hello,” she said sweetly.

“Wildflower, buzz me in.”

She did.

When he knocked on the door, he was soaking wet from the rain.

“I’ve been trying to reach you,” he said as he took off his hoodie.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“Yes, I’ll have what you’re having,” pointing at her cup of tea.

Iris walked into the kitchen to put a K-cup in the Keurig.  She chose pomegranate tea for him. She heard Preston’s voice shouting from the living room.

“We need to talk, Iris.  I know you’ve been avoiding me, lately.”

She appeared from the kitchen with a cup of tea and sat it in front of Preston.

“I’ve been a patient man, Iris. You’ve kept me waiting for over a month. I need to know, do I have a wife or not?”

She didn’t answer.  She just looked at him.  She wanted to say all the things he needed to hear: that she wanted him and loved him, that she was ready to come back home.  She wanted to tell him that she was wrong for running and that she loved him for who he is, not what he was.  But she couldn’t say those things to him.  It could have been fear. Maybe it was pride.  Nonetheless, she remained silent.

“Nothing?  You don’t have anything to say to me, Iris?”

She shook her head.

“Okay then.  I’ll file the annulment papers. You don’t have to be bothered with it.”

She didn’t understand her own silence.  Why was she letting him walk out the door? This might be her only chance.

When Preston reached for the door knob, he looked back at her, but she stood there, expressionless.  He twisted the knob.  Still, she said nothing.  Finally, he walked out.

It felt like her heart had stopped beating. No air was getting to her lungs. Her knees knocked.  She shook her head trying to calm herself.  She gasped to take in the air she needed to breathe.
Just breathe. Breathe
.

She paced the floor back and forth.
What have I done? What did I just do?
 She stopped pacing and stood still, biting her thumbnail.  She ran to the door and when she opened it, he was standing there, waiting for her.  She exhaled.

“Tell me something,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Tell me what you love about me. Tell me now, without having to think about it.”

“I love how you care about people — the way you do everything for everybody else, but you don’t expect anything in return.  You know my secrets and you still love me anyway.  I love your smile — it starts and ends my day.  I love how you make love to me, the way you hold me and call my name.  I love the way your eyes light up when you see me walk into a room and the way your nose crinkles when you laugh at my jokes. I love… that you took care of me when I was ill.”

Iris smiled with warm satisfaction as he went through his list.  He said everything with such care, it just rolled off his tongue like the words were just hanging there… waiting for a reason to be spoken.

“Your turn.  Tell me, Iris, what you love about me, without having to think about it.”

“I love your gentle kindness and your sense of humor.  I love that you have a big heart and you are so generous, especially to elderly ladies who get stuck in a crack.  I love your humility and your courage.  I just think you are a brilliantly brave person who stands for something, and I love spending time with you.”

“Then come home, baby.  I want you with me.  I need you with me.  Come home.”

The aroma of morning drifted through the condo.  Fresh coffee brewed, bread toasted, the cool moist air of the fading spring season was still crisp.  The morning news show blared through the small television hanging on the wall of the breakfast nook. A knock on the door interrupted their morning routine.

Iris got up and went to open the door.  On the way, she stood on the tips of her toes to kiss Preston as she walked by.  She tasted coffee on his lips. When she got to the door, it was Nadine who had come bearing gifts.  The concierge just sent her up. Nadine came by so often, the building staff didn’t bother announcing her anymore.

Iris’ chiffon blouse draped her pregnant belly and hid the elastic band of her pregnancy jeans. Preston cupped her belly with both hands, looking down at how much further it seemed to have protruded since last week.  He placed his hand on her back as she waddled ahead of him into the living room. Nadine followed closely behind.

Iris tried not to let her discomfort show. The baby pressed against her diaphragm and bladder at the same time, so she was breathless and felt the urge to urinate all at the same time. She tried to sit on the sofa, but it was too low to squat onto without bracing herself with her hands on the cushion first. Preston assisted her until she was seated comfortably with a pillow behind her back.

“You look beautiful, Iris. Pregnancy really becomes you,” Nadine said.

“You say that almost every time you see me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re beginning to sound disingenuous.”

Nadine sat the gifts on the table.

“James and I are leaving the country for several weeks. I brought these by just in case the baby was born while we were gone.”

“Thank you, Nadine.”

“Well, sweetie, I’ve got to run. Preston, take care of my friend. She’s the only one I have.”

Preston kissed Nadine on the cheek.

Iris motioned for Nadine to come close so she could hug her.  She did.

After Nadine left, Preston rested Iris’ leg on his thigh, massaging her foot. Her eyes rolled back in her head and a pleasurable moan escaped. It felt so good. It was a treat.  It was a nice bonus to have him pay attention to her in that way.

He got up, moved behind her, and leaned in to add pressure as he massaged her shoulders and back.  She asked him to go lower, and he did. She closed her eyes, feeling the pressure release as he loosened the muscles with his firm strokes and kneading pressure.

“Should we call Peter?” Preston asked.

“I’m sure he’s sick of us thanking him over and over again.”

“This is an experience I thought I’d never have and I’m grateful to Peter for it.”

“Yeah, I know. He knows we’re grateful for his sperm so we could have a kid – a kid that will look like us.”

“I’m just so glad he offered,” Preston said.

“Me, too.”

“I got you something,” Preston said.

“What?”

“Camden texted me this little tidbit about you.”

“Uh oh…,” she said, biting her thumbnail.

Preston went into the kitchen and brought out two spoons and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Willie Nelson Peach Cobbler.

She smiled, and the baby kicked.  She grabbed Preston’s hand and placed it on her belly.

In a flash, she thought about her mother and how she said spirits are colorful. She’d say “some spirits are red. Those are the people with fiery hot tempers. And some spirits are blue, the people who are sensitive to what other people are feeling.”

Iris figured her spirit was multi-colored. In that moment, when Preston felt their baby kick and a gracious smile lit his handsome face, she felt like all the colors inside of her had boiled together and gathered as steam, evaporating into a vibrant purple mist that emanated from her. Not just any old run-of-the-mill purple. But, her own kind of purple. Just like the African violet that bends and sways with the wind so as not to be broken. The kind of purple that was both majestic as a foreground and dynamic as a background. The kind of purple that could give away some of its color and still remain brilliant.

And she was happy.

Thank you so much for purchasing
Wildflower
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Michele Kimbrough lives in Chicago (but cheers for the Green Bay Packers).  She counts coffee as the best invention of all times.  She’s formerly a military medic and nurse, paralegal, and nonprofit corporate executive.  Her passion is writing and after the 2008 recession, she decided to pursue her passion.  She’s written freelance articles and contributed to various blogs.  
Wildflower
is her second novel.

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