Whispering Through Water by Rebecca Wenrich Wheeler

Author:Rebecca Wenrich Wheeler [Wheeler, Rebecca Wenrich]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monarch Educational Services, L.L.C.

16

DAYDREAMS

Isaac did not call me for the next three days, and my anxiety grew with each passing hour. Maybe he realized I wasn’t what he wanted, too average-looking and awkward-despite what he said. In my imagination, he visited me again at the florist, bringing a single stem of a daffodil or iris. The flower changed with each daydream. He would pull me close, brushing his lips against mine, but then the image would fade.

I did what I always did when I got nervous—I organized the store. I labeled each drawer according to its contents and systemized the folders on the computer desktop. By four o’clock on Thursday, I had mustered the courage to call Isaac. I dialed the number, but it was Mrs. Quigley who answered.

“Mrs. Quigley? This is Gwyn.”

“Yes, hello, dear.”

“Would it be okay if I spoke to Isaac?”

“Well, actually he is on his way to see you. He left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“He is, really?” My heart began to race.

“Yes, he had been pacing the house since Monday trying to decide when to call you and what to say when he did. I finally got fed up and told him to go visit you at work. My son can be too analytical for his own good.”

“I understand, more than you know, Mrs. Quigley.”

“Of course, dear. Just promise me to act surprised when he comes. He would be furious with me if he knew I told you.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “And it’s Brenda.”

“Yes, Brenda, I will. See you soon.”

“Bye, Gwyn.”

I replaced the receiver to the phone base and began to mentally calculate Isaac’s arrival. If he left the house fifteen minutes ago, he should be pulling into the back parking lot in ten minutes and walking through the front door one or two minutes later. What to do for twelve agonizing minutes?

Oh, well. There were always pencils to be sharpened.

I did not want Isaac to catch me staring at the window, obviously anticipating his approach, so I concentrated on the pencil shavings as they fell into the trash can. I did not look up until I heard the jingle of the bells attached to the florist door.

Isaac gave me a slight wave. “Hey, Gwyn.” He closed the door behind him. The afternoon light shone through the top of the window, and I could see the specks of light dance on the ridges of his curly hair.

“Hey, yourself.” I tried to suppress the huge grin emerging on my face. I didn’t want to look too eager. “So, why did you stop by?”

“I wanted to see you.” He walked to the counter and gripped the edge.

“You did? I was getting worried.” I couldn’t believe what I had just admitted. I traced a spiral on the countertop with my finger to try to muzzle the feeling of vulnerability.

“About what?” he asked.

“Well, when I didn’t hear from you after the party, I thought that—” I paused, trying to allow my thoughts to catch up with my mouth.

“You thought what?”

“That you changed your mind about me, about us,” I said in a low voice.

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