The Flower

 Adela picked up the little pot of white flowers, and took it inside

with her, out of the cold wind.
She recognized the handwriting which had  written her name on the
outside of the note,
and her fingers trembled as she opened it, and not from the cold, but
from anticipation and anxiety.
What would the note say? That he wanted her back, that his leaving had
been a big mistake??
She unfolded the note, but before she began to read, she closed her
eyes and took a deep breath.
NOW she was ready.
Dear Adela, the note began,  I am sorry.  If there is ever anything
that I can do for you  , I will be happy to do it……anything, she
thought…..anything except marry me.  I have thought it all out, and I
do believe that our parting is for the best, the note went on to say….
Best for whom? For me? No, of course Rick  meant best for himself.
Always  himself first.
But then, to be fair, she  hadn’t told him her secret, the secret she
carried within her….even when he said he was leaving her, she remained
stoically silent. She had let him leave without a word,  to return
only to bring pots of white flowers to leave for her in the snow.  So
she really had no one to blame but herself.
Adela began to cry, tears of frustration and rage and utter despair,
and she tore the note into tiny pieces, leaving it scattered on the
floor beneath her feet.  What the hell was she going to do, her, and
her fatherless child?
She was despondent, but not enough that she didn’t hear the approach
of more footsteps outside the door.  Her first impulse was to run to
the door, and see who was there, but she waited until the footsteps
subsided, and then  pulled the door open. A burst of cold wind swept
through the room, and she walked out on the porch, only to find a
second pot of white flowers and another note……
Her heartbeat fluttered……was there still a chance?????  She picked up
the pot of flowers, this time not even going inside from the cold
before she began to read the note, written in the same script as
before…..
Adela, forgive me. I was wrong. Is there a chance for us? , the note
read, although her vision was blurry from unshed tears. “Yes, Rick,
there will always be a chance for us my Love. Just give me a sign that
you want to come back….”, she murmured aloud.
Within the hour there were no less than fifty pots of white flowers on
her porch…….