I made my way to the greenhouse, catching the distinctive scent of roses as I grew closer. Once I reached the building, I was greeted with an array of color. The entire greenhouse was packed full of flowers, most of which appeared to be roses.
“Cliff?” I called as I stepped into the building.
He didn’t answer right away but considering he didn’t have the best hearing and there were fans going overhead, I didn’t hesitate to search him out. I found him at the back of the building.
“This one is a beauty, isn’t it, my sweet?” I heard Cliff ask. His back was to me so I had no clue who he was talking to but I’d obviously walked in on an intimate conversation, so I did my best to extricate myself without being noticed.
Mission not accomplished.
As I took a step back, my foot got hooked on the curve of a hose lying on the ground. As I lost my balance, I was forced to grab onto one of the racks holding several pots of roses on it. The rack shook under my weight and one of the pots tipped off the end in the process. I looked at the poor displaced flower in horror and then jerked my head in Cliff’s direction. He was watching me with surprise.
He was also very much alone.
When his eyes fell to the rose I’d knocked over I said, “Oh God, Cliff, I’m sorry.” I bent down to pick up the plant.
“Be careful of the thorns, boy,” Cliff called too late. I closed my fingers around the base of the flower to hold it in the pot as I lifted it and was rewarded with several of the thorns puncturing my skin.
“Shit,” I said but I managed to hang on to the pot.
Cliff appeared at my side and took the pot from me. Despite his frail state, he handled the flower with surprising strength.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you and I definitely didn’t intend to damage your plant. I only came to talk to you about something…” I looked at the flower again. “Sorry.”
Cliff waved his hand at me. “Pish, roses are much hardier than they look. This old girl will easily outlive me,” he said as he wrapped his arm around the pot. “Come with me. I’ll show you how to fix her up.”
I followed Cliff to a worktable at the far end of the greenhouse. As he began repotting the flower I said, “I had no idea you had such a fondness for roses.”
Cliff actually stopped what he was doing and stared at the flower. He went from looking like a spry old man to a broken one in the space of a few seconds. “Shit, Cliff, I’m sorry,” I began because it was clearly something I’d said or done that had upset him.
Cliff waved me off again and resumed working with the rose. He didn’t say anything for a long time but I didn’t get the impression he wanted me to leave.
“I hated the things,” he finally said. “Seemed silly to waste so much time carin’ for something that would draw blood if you weren’t careful,” he continued. “My Cassandra, she was the one who treated them like her children. She believed plants had souls, if you can believe it.”
“Cassandra?” I asked softly.
“Love of my life,” Cliff said simply. “Knew I’d marry that girl as soon as I laid eyes on her.”
Cliff’s voice was soft but there was a sadness to it. And since I’d never heard or read anything about someone named Cassandra in his life, my gut was telling me whatever I was about to hear wouldn’t be anything good. But the mere fact that Cliff was bringing up his past gave me pause. The man didn’t share anything with anyone.
He just didn’t.
He’d learned long ago that doing so would just leave him vulnerable. He’d been the subject of tabloid gossip for lesser things and countless people had tried to use personal information about him to get at his fortune, whether through legal or illicit means.
Much like the asshole who’d been threatening to hurt Cliff by coming after me. My thoughts immediately jumped to Nikolai. The pang of longing that went through me nearly had me doubling over in agony.
“Who is she?” I managed to ask, though I couldn’t help but think about what had been going through my mind when I’d laid eyes on Nikolai. No, I hadn’t known I would marry him, but I’d known he’d be my ruin. I’d been both right and wrong about that.
“Was, my boy,” Cliff said. “My Cassie was called back home by the good Lord before she reached her nineteenth birthday.”
“Cliff,” I murmured but I kept myself from tacking an apology on the end. It wouldn’t serve any purpose.