I turned my head away, squeezed my eyes shut, then looked back at the bed. The flowers were still there. I thought I was imagining them. None of what had been going on since this night had begun made any sense whatsoever. Was I starting to lose my mind? There had to be a logical explanation for this strangeness, and I was determined to find it! Leaving the flowers on the bed, I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
As I sat on the rug in the living room before a crackling fire sipping my tea, I'd gone over the events of the night from the time I had just finished dinner, deciding to take a nap. That in itself was strange, because I usually don't nap at all, especially during that particular time of day. But I was unusually tired and it had come on quite suddenly, as if hypnotically induced. Other things also didn't add up. While I was waiting for the water to boil, I checked the clothes I had worn for my walk; a pull-over sweater covered by a windbreaker, a pair of jeans, slouch socks and tennis shoes. They were all accounted for and in their rightful places which wasn't alarming. It was normal for me to change out of my clothes and put them away after my nightly strolls unless, of course, they were wet or sandy, but had I worn them at all? Directly outside the back door on the deck, were my tennis shoes, but were they still there from the day before? Why hadn't I remembered walking home from the beach if this hadn't been a dream? Changing my clothes, lighting and blowing out the candle; all a blank!
Then it dawned on me... of course! I'd been sleepwalking while dreaming! My inability to cope with my pain had created this entire fantastic illusion enabling me the perfect escape hatch; a way to redirect my love for Eric by conjuring up this mystical stranger who talked to me with his mind. I loved this man surely as I love Eric. I had even completely disassociated myself from my own identity by having him call me Anna.The pieces started to fit together, but there was one problem. The flowers.
I went back into the bedroom and gingerly approached the bed. They were there as I had left them. I picked them up, lightly shaking the sand from them, then brought them back into the living room to study them from under a brighter light. There were two separate clusters bunched together, meshing, so the lavender and blue pedals intertwined. Outside of the vague familiarity I had for them, I'd never seen flowers of this likeness before, certainly not on this beach. The night's luster had vanished, the temperature had dropped and the hour had grown later, otherwise, I'd had a good mind to comb the beach with a flashlight at that very moment to see if I could find more of them.
I brought the flowers into the kitchen, snipped a sprig from each cluster to press into my personal journal, then placed the remaining bunch in the refridgerator. I was rapidly developing an affinity for them. As I was returning to the living room to contemplate my next move, the phone rang. It was Miranda. Of course, she wanted to know how I was weathering the day. Even on the phone, she could sense how I had masked, or had tried to, what was churning inside me. She knew something out of the ordinary was happening.
"You don't sound like I expected you to, Mom."
"In what respect?"
"I don't know exactly, but, something's different about you. Are you really holding up alright?"
I wasn't about to start telling her what had been going on at this point. I, myself, didn't know! Until I did, I didn't want to worry her, so I managed to assure Miranda all was well. What was curious was the fact that not once, did I feel threatened or endangered by any of this. If anything, I was drawn to it and had to know more. The flowers were a good start.
The following morning, I walked the beach for what seemed to be miles in search of more, to no avail. It was still early when I returned to the cottage; too early to begin making phone calls, so I signed onto the internet and began searching the web. I had no name to go by, just a general description so I knew my search would be futile.Thousands of sites turned up leading me through an endless maze, but I could find nothing to identify these flowers. By the time I signed off, it was late enough in the morning to continue my search from the Yellow Pages. I finally found an expert botanist, Joseph McGuire, located at the Norfolk Botanical Gardens, who agreed to see me. I wasted no time preparing for my eighteen mile drive, retrieving the flowers from the refridgerator, carefully binding the stems with twine, then loosely wrapping a scarf around the entire bunch.
I was warmly greeted by Mr. McGuire at the gardens' office when I arrived. He was a high-spirited elderly man with plumped, reddened cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.
"Ahh, Ms. Bentley!" he said vigorously shaking my hand."This is quite an honor! I read your books. They're a real page-turner they are, especially on stormy nights!"
"It's I who am honored, and please, call me Jade."
"Only if you call me Joe."
"It's a pleasure, Joe", I said as we released our handshake.
"Now then, have a seat and tell me how I can help you", he said, indicating a cushioned chair as he walked behind his desk to seat himself.
Unveiling the flowers, I handed him the bunch. He put a pair of half-shaped glasses on he had pulled out from his shirt's top pocket and inspected them closely.
"Can you indentify them Joe?"
Without moving his eyes from them he asked," How did you come about this specimen?"
"I found them last night on the beach."
"On Virginia Beach?" he asked, now peering at me with his head tilted downward as to see over his glasses.
"Well, yes. They were lying there on the sand by themselves. I searched for their origin for a long time this morning and found nothing."
"You won't find their origin on Virginia Beach. What puzzles me is how they made their way across the Atlantic... so quickly and barely scathed."
He looked disturbed.
"These little darlins' were cut not even a day ago," he said, pointing to the base of the stems.
"And", he added, "are from two separate plants. They're of the same species but don't cross-pollinate. One color per plant."
"Excuse me Joe, but did you say from across the Altantic?"
"That I did, Jade. If I'm right, and I've been in the business for over forty years now, this species is indigenous to the Isles of Scilly only, which are sub-tropical islands off the southwest coast of Cornwall, England.
Their botanical name is Silene Coeli-Rosa, but are more commonly known by the islanders as the Rose-of-Heaven. Let's look it up to be sure. I won't be but a few minutes."
Barely acknowledging Joe as he left the office, my mind was reeling trying to absorb everything he had just said. Rose-of Heaven? My God! Eric had refered to the clouds as"Heaven's Roses"! A sub-tropical plant? From England no less? And cut merely hours ago? I was more perplexed now, than I had been before I had arrived at my sleepwalking theory.
Joe returned and placed an opened book before me on my side of the desk.
"Here they are, Jade," he said, pointing to a color photo.
There they were indeed; my flowers. What was written about them substantiated everything Joe had said. They were native to only the Scilly Islands and chances of adaptability to other regions were remote.
"I'm confused Joe. How can islands off the coast of England be sub-tropical? And if these plants couldn't survive growing in Virginia Beach, then why not a beach in a sub-tropical state, say, like Florida?"
"To answer your first question, the Scilly Islands are in direct line of the Gulfstream providing the warm climate. The winters may be brisk and very windy at times, but for the most part, it's very lovely there. Been there myself, to the Abbey Gardens on the Isle of Tresco. Most enchanting.
For the second, not all beaches are the same, Jade. The elements in the beaches of Scilly provide the neccessary nutrients needed for this particular plant's growth and survival. They're quite a pretty flower, I'll admit, but by no means exotic. They're simply a product of their environment."
"And somehow this bunch made their way to me," I said, thinking outloud.
"Couldn't someone have brought them back from the Scilly Islands the day before, then tossed them away?"
"Oh no," he said with conviction, "not in the condition they're in. With the traveling time alone, they would've been alot more worse for the wear, say the least of the traveling conditions. As you can see, they're a delicate blossom and your keeping them refridgerated overnight, untouched, kept them going a bit more than they nomally would have."
We fell silent as Joe looked at the flowers thoughtfully. He knew there'd been something I wasn't disclosing, but being the gracious gent he is, didn't press the issue. Raising his eyebrows and shaking his head, baffled, Joe turned his swivel chair around to directly face me.
" If I didn't know better", he said, "I'd say this bunch was dropped right where you found it only moments after it was cut."
I felt a chill run up my spine. Joe was right on target and this had been no dream.
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