Painted Petals

Chapter 1 Winter still held the state firmly in its clutches, with everything coated in a layer of snow. But the beautiful bouquets in the grocery store and displayed in the window of the florist gave hope that spring would eventually come. Besides, for Clara Dickens it was easier to see the blooms that way than thinking of their real purpose. It was February, the month for lovers. Everywhere she turned there were hearts and cute stuffed animals and reminders that the fourteenth was drawing ever closer. Valentine’s Day. Her feelings on the holiday, if it could even be called that, were mixed. On one hand, she liked the sentiment behind it, but why show your love only because the calendar and stores said to? She found more meaning in a handful of wildflowers given to her on a Friday in May than lavish presents on Valentine’s Day. Of course, not everyone saw it that way, so Clara often kept her mouth shut on the subject. Her view had nothing to do with a bitter breakup a few years back, but the whole relationship angle certainly threw its two cents into the ring this time around. New love. It bathed her in warmth from head to toe, thinking of her current squeeze. As Clara wheeled her cart by a display of lovey-dovey cards she wondered what Asher thought of the whole ordeal. Was he sweating like some other men as he tried to figure out what the best gift was for her? Was he cooking up romantic plans? Should she be giving more thought to the day? Should I buy him a little something? Maybe a heart of sweet chocolates or a cute little stuffed monkey telling him how crazy I am about him? Do I buy him a card with a mushy phrase or one that will make him laugh? “Hello, Clara, dear.” She looked up, already smiling, always happy to see her receptionist and good friend Miss Maggie. The kind middle-aged lady was the first to welcome her to town when she arrived about a year ago, and now Clara couldn’t imagine life without her. Miss Maggie was pleasantly plump, had recently dyed her hair in varying shades of blue, and knew everything worth knowing about the people of Sugarbush Creek. Clara’s vet clinic, The Ark, was closed for the day except for emergencies; which would come through on her cell phone. As much as she adored the townsfolk and their critters, even she needed a day off now and then, especially when her fridge started looking bare and the furry critter she shared her house with needed treats. “Always nice to see you, Miss Maggie.” The older lady was inspecting the selection of candies, from the classic heart-shaped boxes of chocolate to less than appetizing gummy hearts. “Have you found a new special someone?” Mr. Maggie had gone to the big snow globe in the sky a few years back. Clara wished she’d had a chance to meet the man that worshipped her friend. He must have been an amazing person and she couldn’t help feeling he would have filled the hole left by her father’s passing. Much the way Miss Maggie felt like a second mom. In the picture Miss Maggie placed on the desk near her monitor, her dearly departed husband could have easily passed for Santa, his smile lighting up his entire face. She must miss him something fierce this time of year. Or any holiday. Permanently losing the one she loved, the man she planned to spend her whole life with, was one of the biggest fears Clara had. Imagine giving one’s whole life to another, trusting them with your heart, devoting your days to them and planning out the future just to wake up one morning without them. All of it lost. How does someone get over that sort of heartache? Oh Maggie, you’re an amazing woman. “Oh, sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m looking for a little something for my grandkids. V-Day isn’t just for lovers, you know.” “Have you found anything you like?” She spied Miss Maggie’s empty cart. “I’m torn between going traditional and grabbing a bag of candy hearts, or trying something else. The boxes of chocolates are out. They’re much too picky for those,” she mused. An idea occurred to Clara. She was already planning to do a little baking, always offering treats to the owners of her patients. What could it hurt to add a few more cookies or cupcakes to the batch? She said as much to Miss Maggie, having already thought out the delicious treats. Strawberry cupcakes with cream cheese frosting dyed bright red, a chocolate heart atop each one. The cookies would be filled with the appropriate holiday-colored chocolate chips. Maybe she’d even get fancy and dip one end of each cookie in red chocolate. Just thinking of the sweets made her stomach growl. Miss Maggie’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll take you up on your offer on one condition.” “Name it.” “We finish up our shopping and have lunch next door at the café.” “Deal.” She could already taste the cheddar potato soup, a chunk of fresh Italian bread, and a cup of hot cocoa to wash it all down with. It wasn’t like she would have to worry about her cold stuff, what with the February temperatures barely reaching double digits. As much as she adored winter, even she loomed forward to spring, the flowers making her wistful for evenings on the porch with a good book and a glass of lemonade. Or, better yet, snuggling up under the stars with her boyfriend. Clara wheeled her cart by the candy, having agreed to meet Miss Maggie by the registers in fifteen minutes. She pushed all thoughts of the upcoming day out of her mind, focusing on the list she wrote up before leaving the house. Most of her purchases came from the baking aisle. Fruits and veggies, especially those favored by her main squeeze, Rabitat, joined a loaf of bread and milk. Before long the remaining item on her list was dinner followed by a question mark. What, she wondered, would be good? What was she in the mood for? Clara slow cruised past the meats. Burgers and pork ribs and chicken. None of it jumped out at her as appetizing. She turned her cart to the frozen foods, eyeing the variety of pizzas. Yes, exactly what she wanted. Adding a pepperoni pizza to her goods she declared her shopping done and went to pay, finding Miss Maggie just finishing up. “I’m beginning to think it’ll never be warm again,” George Randolph commented, stepping into line behind Clara. As one of the sheriff deputies George’s days were busy with accidents brought about by the overabundance of snow. This was the talk of the talk of the town, as they’d already reached the seasonal average and crossed the threshold with more of the white stuff forecasted. “I hear some of the ranchers are getting worried,” Penny Jones added in her two cents while ringing up Clara’s purchases. A single mother of one, Penny came by the clinic to have Clara treat her son’s cockatoo. “Mr. Dochese has been rumbling about the price of hay from down south.” Clara considered her own beloved cowboy. If Asher was experiencing any trouble with feeding his cattle or horses he hadn’t said anything to her. But would he? If there was one thing she’d learned about Asher Barlow it was the sense of pride that came with running the generations-old Sugarbush Ranch. The land, the animals—some of which could be traced back to the founding critters—and all the history ran through his blood, and Clara knew she would always place second to the homestead. Surprisingly she was fine with that, just another part of loving a cowboy. Love. Did she love Asher? With all her heart and soul? Did he feel the same? Was she safe with him? Could she trust him to take care of her heart? Their relationship was still young, not even a full two months old. What if she gave him everything she had only to wind up brokenhearted once again? That was the risk, she knew, being left shattered and in tears. “Come on, dear,” Miss Maggie said, taking her by the arm. “I can tell there’s a storm kicking up in that mind of yours. Let’s eat and you can tell me what has you troubled so.”