A Tale of Spring

It had rained the day before, cleansing the air and refreshing the grass and wildflowers. Bea and Kaleb were sitting on his covered porch, him reading and her taking in the first day of Spring.

“Don’t you think Spring is just the best season of all?” sighed Bea with a small smile.

Kaleb looked up from his book at his current lover. “Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Huh?” she asked, blinking herself out of her daydreaming.

He placed his book down on his lap and repeated himself, “Why do you say Spring is the best season?”

“Oh!” she perked up. She looked back out to the small yard in front of Kaleb’s trailer. She pointed to the birds taking a bath in the birdbath, making their beautiful bird songs, and she happily sighed again.

“What?” he asked.

“Look at the birds,” she said.

“There’s birds around all year,” he said matter of factly while he stared at her, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, true. But look at them singing and showing off, trying to attract a mate.”

“So, you like the bird sounds?”

“Yes,” she nodded, ignoring his tone. “It's nice.”

“It can be.” He looked around his deck, not looking for anything in particular.

She waited for him to say something, but he didn't. “I love the purple flowers that bloom this time of year,” she said, waving again to his yard.

Kaleb scrunched up his nose at the sound of her beaded bracelets clacking against each other. He preferred women who either wore simple, delicate jewelry, or none at all. She was feminine in a way that he was not overly fond of.

“So many people mow them down but they're wonderful,” she continued. “It’s nice to see them in your yard.”

“Purple flowers?” he asked, knowing he hadn't planted any flowers.

“Yeah. The ones in your yard.”

Kaleb sat up straight to see over his aged deck and into his yard. “Those are weeds.” His face flushed with embarrassment that his yard, to him, was unkempt.

“What?” her smile started to fade.

“They’re a Nettle.” He pressed his lips together, his tone harsh and short.

Bea wilted, her smile and romanticized attitude gone. “A Dead Nettle,” she grumbled as she looked back at his yard with now disinterested eyes.

“Huh?” he asked, surprised.

Avoiding his gaze, she said “They’re Purple Dead Nettles. I think there's some Henbit scattered about, too. And, yes,” she folded her hands together and exhaled, “you are correct that they are weeds. But, they sprout flowers. And they’re beautiful.” She nodded her head once in her resolve.

He scratched his nose and leaned back into his chair, picking up his book again. He pretended to read for a few minutes then asked her, his nose still in the book, “what's the difference between a Dead Nettle and a Henbit?”

She turned to him. “Are you talking to me?”

He lowered his book. “What’s the difference between a Dead Nettle and a Henbit?”

“A Purple Dead Nettle has triangular leaves and doesn't sting when you touch it. The Henbit has round leaves.”

“That it?”

“If you go to the grass with me I can show you,” she said as she started to stand.

“Nah, I’m good,” he resumed his reading. The tension died and after a few gentle breezes Bea had started to hum to herself. “What else makes Spring so great?” Kaleb asked.

Bea chuckled to herself.

“What?” he asked, a bit alarmed.

“Think about it,” she winked at him.

“Oh!” he blushed. She smiled to herself. “How do you know so much about the weeds?” he cleared his throat and tugged at the front of his shrinking jeans.

“I read about it in this month’s conservation magazine.”

“You didn’t already know it before then?”

“I always thought of them as Susie flowers.”

“Susie flowers?” he asked.

“My sister Susie used to like them.” She pushed her growing bangs out of her eyes. “I never knew their name until last month. I did know they were a weed though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I uprooted some a few years back and then potted them. I couldn’t figure out why they had died until my ex’s father told me they weren’t flowers, but a weed. He called them something else…” She clicked her tongue, trying to remember. “Hmm. I don’t remember what.”

“There you go again,” he rolled his eyes.

“Huh?” she asked.

“Bringing up your exes.”

Bea was not amused. “Sir, you’ve brought up your exes a lot, too.”

“Well, it's my past.”

“Your past is more important than mine?”

“I just don't like it. I can't live up to them.”

She blinked. “They were all sacks of shit.” Kaleb didn't say anything.Bea looked him in the eyes and repeated, “Shit. … And come on now, you still have your ex wife's initials tattooed on your hand.” Kaleb felt his face turn hot and tried hiding behind his book. Bea felt her heart ache and reached for her large handbag that was next to her chair. “I, uh, wanted to show you this. If you like it, I’ll get it for you.”

“That’s- What?” Kaleb was not accustomed to someone getting over anger and frustration as quickly as Bea. He put down his book, looking over at her and saw her small, sad smile. “What did you say?”

“I would like to buy this for you if you like it.”

“Why would you buy me something?”

“Well, because I care for you. I would have already bought it but I wasn’t sure if you would wear it.” She held up her phone to him. “Can you see it? Do I need to get closer?”

“I can see that far,” he said as he squinted his eyes. They were a pair of earrings for his gauged ears. "What's that pattern?”

“Pattern?” She enlarged the picture for him. “They took a mushroom and sliced it and then put it in resin. You had told me your gauge size and these should fit. What do you think?”

Kaleb made an uncomfortable face. “I still don’t understand why you would buy me something.”

“I haven’t bought it yet. I thought you were studying mushrooms?”

“I’m not studying them. I just like to read about them.”

“Okay.” There was a pause and Bea said just over a whisper, “I saw something I thought you would like and wanted to get it for you. That’s all. If you don’t want it…”

“I don’t need you buying me anything.”

“Okay.” She closed her phone screen and placed her phone back into her bag. She sniffed in and turned her head to watch the birds in the bath.

The silence grew which made Kaleb uneasy. “Do you want some tea?” he asked.

Still looking away from him she asked, “Is it sweet?”

“Of course.”

“No, thank you.”

He put his book even closer to his face and complained, “I can't believe you like unsweet tea.”

“It takes some getting used to but it's nice. If I do sweeten it, I'll put honey in it.”

“Wouldn't it be too hard to stir?” his voice, disbelieving.

"It'd be hot tea.”

“Oh good lord. That sounds awful.”

“It's not.”

“I can't believe you grew up around here. We are so different.”

“About thirty minutes from here. And what's wrong with different?" He didn't say anything. Again, they sat in silence. Uncomfortable silence. A couple minutes passed when Bea folded her hands together and said to him, “I'm getting hungry.”

“Would you stay for dinner?” His eyes had started to tear. He wasn't sure how he felt about Bea yet, but he knew how he felt about being alone.

She smiled at him. “I can do that.”

He smirked. “I placed a sushi order right before we sat out here.”

“Oh!” she laughed. “It's so nice that sushi is your favorite.”

“I like fish,” he shrugged.

“All kinds?”

“Pretty much. I mean, I fished a lot as a kid in the creeks.”

“Do you like catfish?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too. But I haven't been fishing in so long…”

“You like to fish?”

“Of course.”

“I didn't expect that.”

She furrowed her brows.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He held his hands up. “Tell me about your fishing adventures.”

“Not that much to tell. I used to fish with my loser father randomly. And when I was in my early twenties my grandpa and I used to fish at the nearby park.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“I miss my grandpa.” She looked down at her fingers.

“What about cleaning them?”

“I don't like to cut their heads off, to be honest.”

“You should always be honest,” he mumbled.

She ignored him and continued, “I've never killed anything except worms for the bait.”

“You ever clean a fish?”

“Just descale it.”

“You've never gutted a fish?” he tsk’d.

She tapped her chin remembering. “You know…My Dad had me gut a big catfish I caught when I was a teenager. It was actually pregnant and it made my Dad sad. He said he didn't know it was or we would have tossed it back. But that's the only one I remember gutting.”

“You are so city,” he shook his head.

“Nah,” she brushed some strands of cut grass that had landed on her skirt from the breeze, wondering whose yard it came from. “I just lived a sheltered life.”

“Yeah. I could see that.” Kaleb didn't see Bea’s jaw clench. “Want to get the food?”

“Together?” she asked.

“Of course together. You thought I was asking you to get it alone?" She looked down at her fingernails. "You've dated some losers,” he muttered. She bit her tongue.

-

The next morning Bea laid awake in Kaleb’s bed, staring at the textured ceiling. She wanted to go to the nearby park but knew if she went with Kaleb she wouldn't have any fun. She rolled over to her side to see that his back was turned to her. She kissed his surprisingly soft skin and decided she better head out. She didn't like the way she always felt dismissed and how after spending time with him she always felt inadequate. ‘If he wasn't such a good lay I wouldn't have even stayed the night’, she thought. She didn't make a peep as she gathered her clothes and things and hurried out of the bedroom. She practically threw her clothes on and didn't even go to the bathroom, deciding to wait until she was at the nearest park. As she turned the key to her small truck she confessed, “I'm so insecure. I stayed last night, and I always waste my time with men who don't care about me… because I'm insecure. I’m in my thirties now, I am too old to be doing this.” She reached for her phone and texted Kaleb.

Had a good time. Text me later.

She put her truck in drive and began to cry. This was the same exact pattern she had with all of her past lovers. “I'm pathetic,” she mumbled to herself. Instead of going to the park she drove straight home and slept the day away, missing Kaleb’s texts.

-Three weeks later…

Bea was sitting at a picnic table at a park not too far from Kaleb’s trailer park. She sighed. ‘I wish that would have worked out. He was so good in the sack.’ “Fucking bullshit all the best parks are so close to his. I hope I never see that fucker again.” She looked up from her book about mushrooms and saw the Henbit and Purple Dead Nettles were still in bloom. She smiled and closed her eyes. “Spring is the best season,” she said softly.

“Excuse me," a voice said close to the picnic table where Bea sat. “E-Excuse me?”

Bea opened her eyes and blinked rapidly. She failed to hide her embarrassment of talking to herself by clearing her throat. She smiled at the woman standing a few feet away from her at a respectful distance.

“My apologies,” Bea said. “I didn't see you there.”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” The woman said, waving her hands. “I just-uh just saw that you were reading that book. And, I actually just uhm, I, uhm,” the woman began to tap her clavicle.

“You've read it?” Bea smiled excitedly. The woman nodded, looking down, shuffling one of her feet.

“Do you have a moment to join me?” Bea tapped the top of the picnic table.

“Huh?” The woman’s head jerked up and she clasped her hands together.

“I'm sorry. Was that too forward?” Bea asked nervously. Bea took a deep breath in and ignored her own flushing face. “I was just wondering if you'd like to join me so we could talk about the book. I haven't finished it yet, but I'm close.”

The woman breathed out in relief. “Yes. Yes. I would like to join you. If that's, if that's okay.” The woman rolled her eyes, realizing her awkwardness.

“Yes, please,” Bea gestured to the open seat across from her.

The woman sat down, taking off her hiking pack and placing it next to her noisily. “My name is Sarah,” she said.

“I'm Bea.”

“It's… nice to meet you.”

“That's nice. I mean, it's nice to meet you, too.”

They smiled at one an other until Sarah looked up suddenly and away. “It's such a beautiful day out, isn't it? I just love Spring. It's my, uhm, it's my favorite season.”

“Mine, too!” Bea excitedly slapped her hand on the table.

“Yeah?” Sarah looked directly into Bea’s eyes.

“Yeah!” Bea looked back.

“What's your favorite part about Spring?” Sarah’s eyes softened.

Bea breathed in deeply and sighed. “I really like how even weeds are beautiful during Springtime.”

“Oh, like Henbit?”

Bea’s mouth fell. “Yes!”

“I like Henbit and purple Dead Nettles alot,” she nodded her head up and down.

“Me, too!”

“Yeah?” she asked surprised.

“Yeah!”

The woman laughed, her tension vanishing. “I, I think purple is actually my favorite color because of that weed.”

“No way!” Bea was all smiles.

“Really, really.” She waved at her purple shirt, purple pack, and tapped her purple water bottle in the pack’s mesh pocket. Bea giggled and Sarah smiled at her. “I- uh, I actually didn't even know that it was called a Henbit or a, or a purple Dead Nettle until I read the local conservation magazine that came out a, uh, a couple months ago.” She looked down at her hands then put a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that bad that I didn't know that and I'm a local?”

“Oh my gosh are you serious right now?”

“It is bad, isn't it?” Her shoulders slumped slightly.

“No! Not at all! I actually read that same magazine and learned that. I knew it was a weed but I didn't know the name for it. I think a lot of people don't know the names for local things anyway. What do you think?”

“You just learned the name too from the same magazine?” she chuckled, her shoulders straightening.

“I did! Promise!”

“Hehee. I believe you!” They smiled at one another.

Sarah cleared her throat. “I think that speaks a lot for how so many people didn't know the name that they, uh, the magazine, uhm, the magazine staff, that they could write an article about it.” She twiddled her thumbs.

“I hear ya! I think more people are going back outside for recreational time. And, well, who can we really ask about it? I can't bank on people my age or my parents. My mother sure as heck isn't outdoorsy! Well. Uhm. I know not everyone is like that. I, uhm…”

“Yeah, yeah. I think you're right about that,” she wagged her finger in agreeance. “So for me, I come from a pretty big family, so my parents wanted us, uh, you know, out of their hair. So we did spend the majority of our time in, uh, in curriculars like uh, sports and stuff, or just, just played outside. But, we weren't, we weren't, weren't uh, like, shown outdoor stuff. You know, like the uh, the name of plants or names of birds. I think my parents, uh, they uh, my parents just uh, didn't care, or uh, or they themselves didn't know. Which makes me wonder about their parents. But. Oh. Well. Yeah.” she shrugged as her face started turning red.

“Hmm… Do you think people, myself included, put too much emphasis on generations?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like how you hear people say, ‘That’s such a Gen-X thing to do. Or ‘fucking Boomer'. Stuff like that.”

“Well… Hmm…” Sarah tapped her chin. “Maybe?”

“I mean, I know I was just bashing my generation and people my parents’ age. Maybe I was wrong? You said that your parents had you in a lot of curriculars and had you outside?”

Sarah pressed her lips together and shook her head, ‘yes’.

Bea sighed. “I was a TV kid.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sarah asked .

Bea looked embarrassed and turned her head.

“It’s okay! I know a lot of TV kids. And it just changed from TV kids to screen kids.”

“Yeah. Yeah I guess you're right.”

“If that's how your childhood was, that's how it was. You were, you know? A child,” she moved her hands as she spoke, hoping to get her point across to Bea.

“I did take piano lessons,” Bea said quickly, as though it was one long word. Sarah listened, hoping Bea would elaborate. “My parents knew that would keep me busy. So I did do that. I did slack on my practicing as much as I could though. I had a constant urge to watch the TV, ya know? That thing is addicting!”

“Oh, it can be! It can be! That and cellphone and video games. Technology can be addicting.”

“You ever hear about people getting addicted to social media?”

“Oh I was big with it for a long time.”

“Yeah?”

“Best thing I ever did was get rid of it.”

“Oh, me too. Me, too. I am so glad I started focusing on hobbies away from electronics. Well. I mean, my keyboard is electronic.”

“You still play?” Sarah held her hands and raised them to her chest, a smile on her face.

“Well, uhm,” Bea bit her lip. “I stopped for a long time. I just got back into it. I'm not as good as I could be, if,” she breathed out. “If I stuck with it. I'm behind, you know.”

“You're further ahead than me!” Sarah smiled. “And who cares if you aren't as good as you think you should be? You know? Like, uh, who cares if you suck. Which!” she placed her palms on the picnic table, “I doubt you do, but, but what if you do? Who cares? You like to do it! What's that Warhol quote. Uhm..Don’t. Uhm. Oh! ‘Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.’ That's-thats what he said.”

“I. Love. That,” Bea’s eyes were wide.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bea looked around with new eyes. “I really do.”

Sarah looked at Bea, a soft smile on her face. “Uhm. May I ask why you stopped?” she played with the hem of her shirt.

“Huh?” Bea blinked.

“Was that too personal? I'm sorry.”

“No, no. I was still thinking about what you said. Such great advice for me, thank you.” Sarah lowered her head as she smiled at the expressed gratitude. “You said, asked me…Why I quit?” Sarah nodded and Bea oof’d. “I had a shitty ex that made me, well, I let them convince me that I wasn't any good.”

“What a DICK!”

“Right?”

“Right!” Sarah crossed her arms angrily. “It's -it’s fucking art! What a piece of shit. I'm glad it's your ex.” Her eyebrows raised. “Sorry that I swore.”

“Oh,” Bea chuckled. “I don't give a fuck.” Sarah joined her laughter.

“What,” Sarah said through giggles, “do you like to play?”

“I like jazz.”

“Really?"

“Yeah. I have been transcribing some Miles Davis solos. I'm not ready to do piano solos yet. Someday, though.”

“That's wonderful!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sarah blushed a little. “This is nice.”

“Huh?”

“Our, our conversation. It's nice.”

“Yeah I think so, too.”

The two women smiled at each other.

Sarah rubbed her hands together nervously.

“If you'd like,” Bea said, “I would like to hear about your hike? I just came and sat at the bench to read. Not, uh, you know, dressed appropriately,” she waved her hand down to showcase her T-shirt dress and sandals.

“You look beautiful,” Sarah said.

Bea froze and felt her face redden. She looked up at her, even sitting she was a good six inches taller. Bea’s heart raced. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I actually made this dress. And I painted the sandals.”

“You did really well.”

“Thank you.” Excitedly she showed off her beaded bracelet. “I made this, too. Well. Not the beads. But I put the beads on the string.”

“It's wonderful.” Sarah just nodded her head, struggling to find her words to keep the conversation going.

“You look beautiful, too,” Bea said. She looked down at her lap, scared to see Sarah's reaction.

“Would-would,” she took a big breath in. “Would you like to do this again sometime?”

“Hmm?” Bea placed her hand over her arm and tilted her head, a happy expression on her face.

“Uhm,” Sarah started to twitch. “Uhm. Uh. This…” she pointed at Bea than herself. “Again?”

“Uh,” Bea tilted her head. She noticed Sarah’s neck starting to redden. “Me, you?” she tried piecing it together. “Meet up again?”

Sarah tapped her nose.

“Yeah!” Bea clapped her hands, excited. “I would love to!”

Sarah breathed out in relief.

“Well, what all do you have planned today? I was wanting to enjoy the weather longer, we can maybe-” Bea looked at Sarah's slightly damp shirt and remembered she had already gone on a hike. She chewed the bottom of her lip embarrassed.

“You want to go for a walk?” Sarah asked with a smile.

Bea fiddled with her bracelet. “Well, uhm, didn't you just finish a hike?” she could feel her heart start to pound and thoughts of her being dumb and unobservant flooded her mind.

“I did. Yeah. Yeah, I did. But I love being outside and moving. A walk sounds greatl,” she clasped her hands together and rested then on her lap.

“I am in sandals and a dress…” Bea grimaced, waiting for a scornful laugh.

“That's alright,” Sarah responded softly. “This is an easy walk. What kind of sandals do you have on?”

“You can't really tell with modifications but they are hiking sandals, well, if there is such a thing. Ya know?”

Sarah continued to smile. “Then you’ll be just fine.”

“Well, alright! Let's go!” Bea pushed herself up and threw her book in her messenger bag and tightened the straps on her sandals.

Sarah stood and put on her back. “I took this trail a couple weeks ago,” she said. “It runs pretty close to a-to a creek.“

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. The trail is-is flat.”

“Oh, good deal.”

“Do you prefer flat trails?”

“Oh…” Sarah heard Bea say sadly. “You don't like flat trails?” She turned to see Bea rubbing her arm and biting her lip.

“I like all trails so,” Sarah hurried to say. “So I don't mind doing, doing this trail. It’s, it’s nice. Like I said I already did this one. Promise.”

Bea’s face softened. “You just saying that?”

“I like spending time with you. So, so, it doesn't matter what, what we do.” Her face flushed. “And, I, well, I mean, being outside and…” she breathed out.

“I like spending time with you, too.”

The two started to walk a faster pace than Sarah expected Bea to have in her dress and sandals. The trail was flat and gentle. The trees providing perfect shade.

“I like your perfume,” Sarah said.

“Thank you,” Bea smiled.

“It smells like peaches.”

“It is!” She did a slight skip in excitement.

“I love peaches.”

“Me, too.”

Their hands brushed against each other.

“Oh, oh look!” Sarah walked to the side of the trail. “These things are so cool.” She squatted down and motioned for Bea to come look.

“Ooh! What is that?”

“”Layman-layman-uh, lamb's ears. They're soft.”

“Ooh! You can touch it?”

“Yeah. He-here.” Sarah schooched to the left.

Bea felt the plant and giggled.

"It is soft!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah.” They started laughing, and continued to laugh, happiness flowing out of them. They laughed so heartedly their eyes squinted closed. When the laughter slowed and their eyes opened, they realized they were mere inches from each other. Sarah cleared her throat and looked down.

Bea whispered, “you smell nice, too.”

“Oh. Uhm. It’s-it’s my sunscreen that I wear that- when I go hike. And uhm- it's like- uhm coconuty. Not-that's not a word. Uhm.”

Bea turned back to look at the lamb's ears and Sarah sighed in relief which Bea took as a sign she had overstepped herself. Bea stood up from her squat and rubbed her arms. Confused and nervous Sarah said, “uhm. Keep going?”

Relieved, Bea nodded yes. They walked a few steps and Sarah perked up, pointing, “oh! That’s-” she stopped and rubbed the back of her neck, worried her excitement would annoy Bea.

“That's what?” Bea asked, looking around.

“Oh, uhm, just another plant. No-no big deal.”

“Where?”

“You wanna see it?”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“It's small.” Sarah walked to the other side of the trail and pointed at a small yellow flower. “See it?”

“Yeah! How'd you notice that from all the way over there?” She pointed to where they had been standing on the trail.

“Oh. I-uh- I don't know.”

“Pretty impressive. Tell me about the flower?” Bea listened, taking in every word Sarah said. She watched Sarah's soft lips move with each nervous laugh. She fought the urge to-

“Oh,” Sarah stopped as she heard Bea’s stomach growl. “You hungry?” She didn't notice Bea’s embarrassment. “Uhm. Do you wanna, uh, uhm.” She swung her pack off and placed it on the trail. She squatted down and rooted through her pack. “Uhm… Chocolate? Peanut butter? Banana? Strawberry? Coffee?” She started withdrawing protein bars, holding them up to her.

“You have all those flavors?” Bea awed.

“I-I- try to be prepared.”

“That's wonderful,” she said, a bit envious of her outdoor skills.

“Thanks,” Sarah murmured, hoping Bea didn't pick up on her over preparedness as a coping mechanism for her anxiety. “Uh, which one? Or, more than one.”

“You don't mind?” Bea asked.

“Huh?” Sarah asked.

“You don't mind?” Bea repeated.

“Of course not. I have more than enough. I, I get them in bulk. Don't uh, don't worry about it.” She also withdrew an unopened bottle of water. “You like this brand?” Sarah held it close to Bea’s face.

Bea laughed and gently took the bottle from Sarah's hand.

"Thank you,” she said softly. Sarah's heart skipped.

“Oh. Okay. Uhm. Which one do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Which one?.,” Sarah held up a handful of protein bars.

Bea’s foot rocked side to side as she said through a smile. “The one you like the least.”

“I like them all. But. I, uh, have multiples of each. So, you know, it's fine.”

“Oh,” Bea was not convinced.

Sarah held a hand up to her and Bea gently took it. Sarah tugged her closer to see inside her pack. “Oh!” She gasped. “You are prepared!”

“Yeah.” She stroked her thumb against the back of Bea’s held hand.

“Okay! Uhm…” With her free hand, Bea tapped her chin with the water bottle. “Banana,” she said.

“Good choice.”

“Oh, is that your favorite?”

“Nonono. They're all great. Here. I'm going to have coffee. Hee hee.” Sarah looked up briefly. “No way…” her mouth fell.

“What? What?” Bea looked around to see a clearing in the woods and a meadow of purple and yellow flowers that swayed in the breeze. “So. Beautiful,” she said.

Sarah waved her to follow her as she walked towards the meadow. “Look..” She pointed at one of the yellow flowers.

“They're pretty.”

“It's a yellow-yellow violet.” She laughed to herself.

“A… yellow?”

“Uh huh. I'm surprised it's here. They're rare.”

“I had no idea violets could be yellow.”

“I've never seen one in person.”

“Exciting!” Bea clapped her hands.

Sarah smiled at her. “It is!”

The two laughed at their good luck.

“Is this-is this a flood plane?” Sarah asked Bea.

“You know, I don't know,” she said as she scratched the back of her head. “But you said earlier it runs close to a creek, right?”

Sarah's eyes lit up. “Yeah. I did say that.” She started to rock back and forth on her toes.

“I wish picking it didn't you know, kill it.”

“Yeah…” Sarah took out her large phone and pointed at it. “I can take a picture? It has a re-really good camera.”

“Great idea!” Bea stood and moved out of the way. She watched as Sarah took multiple photos, happy with her picture taking skill.

“What do you think?” Sarah handed her the phone.

“They're wonderful!”

“If-” she looked up and away, “you put your number in my phone I can send them to you.”

Bea giggled. “I'll just forward this picture to my number.”

“Your phone number?”

“Through a text… If that's okay.”

“Oh, good-good deal. I mean- yeah. Yeah, it's okay.”

“Okay,” she laughed. Bea’s phone dinged in her messenger bag. She handed Sarah back her phone and checked her own. With a bit of typing Sarah's phone dinged and Bea slowly put her phone back in her bag, and started to hum.

“Oh,” Sarah checked her phone and gasped.

“You-you think I'm beautiful? Thank you.” She smiled.

“Huh?” Bea asked.

“The-the text you sent me?”

“May I see?”

Sarah nodded and held her phone out with one hand. Bea reached both her hands out. One hand went under Sarah's hand, and one over it. With her left hand she took the phone and looked at the message, her right hand still holding on to Sarah's hand. She nodded, “yes. Yes, I do think you're beautiful.” Without looking, she handed the phone to Sarah's free hand.

Sarah lifted up their holding hands and kissed Bea’s fingers. She closed her eyes as she let her lips rest there. She felt Bea’s hand gently touch her side and she could smell the peach perfume.

“I-I- have a confession,” Sarah said.

Bea tilted her head to kiss Sarah's neck. Sarah let out a small gasp and leaned into the kiss. Bea squeezed Sarah's side and kissed her earlobe.

“I,” Sarah continued. “Am going to pick that flower.” Bea stopped. “Before, uh, hold on,” continuing to hold Bea’s hand, she shoved her phone into her back and withdrew a leather bound notebook. “I, it’s, it's a scrapbook.”

“A scrapbook?”

“Yeah. Uhm. Well, a journal, I guess? Do you, do you wanna see?”

“Your diary?”

“Oh, no no no. It's, well,” with one hand, she slowly opened the book.

“Oh! It's wonderful!” Bea squeezed Sarah's hand.

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

Sarah laughed in relief. “You don't think it's silly?”

“To have a field journal? With such detail? It's wonderful!” She hovered her free hand over the open page. “Even your handwriting is beautiful. It’s just perfect.”

“You, you really think so?”

“I know so. May I see the next page?”

She closed the book gently and cleared her throat. “Only, if you come over for dinner.” She looked down at the closed book held to her chest, waiting for the reply. She watched as Bea’s fingers placed themselves on hers. She closed her eyes as she felt them run up her arms, across her shoulder, up her neck, and then rest on her cheek.

“Deal,” Bea said.

Sarah opened her eyes and held back a laugh, seeing how far Bea had to reach. Sarah wrapped the arm holding her book around Bea’s back and lowered her head. “Deal.” A gentle breeze drifted by, carrying the sounds of the singing birds and the scent of Spring.

END OF STORY