A Rose Called Miracle: Boo #01

Miracles are not contrary to nature, but only contrary to what we know about nature. Saint Augustine

A Rose Called 'Miracle': Book #1

David and Kate

Author's note: 'A Rose Called Miracle' is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents all are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously.

All characters in intimate situations are 18 or older. If any of my characters accidentally resemble a living person, I apologize--but I hope the living person has had as much fun as my characters. Readers should also note that this story, and the stories that follow in the series, will cross many genres and involve characters of many sexual persuasions. The series will also later introduce transgender, interracial, and LGBTQ+ characters, but all of the stories will be listed as 'Romance' because, after all is said and done, these are love stories. If you live in a world where only heterosexual relationships between partners of the same race are appropriate, please read no further--you'll only be offended.

PROLOGUE

Here I am, finally back in my greenhouses...but behind my desk...supposedly working. My plaster-encased left leg is propped up on a pillow-topped bench that Kate, Jamie, and Nicole bought for me. I am bored out of my skull. My loving wife of six weeks made Jamie and Nicole promise that if I came back to work, they wouldn't let me lift a finger around the greenhouses. You see, a couple weeks ago I broke my leg while trying to find a blockage in greenhouse #4's overhead sprinkler system. Climbing the ladder, I slipped just as I reached up. My foot went in between the ladder's rungs and as I fell backwards both bones in my lower leg snapped cleanly--at least that's what my wife says. When I fell, my head smacked the floor and I was knocked cold. The last thing I clearly remember was Jamie telling me we had a blockage I needed to look at.

Anyway, the down time has given me the opportunity to ponder and marvel at the incredible twists and turns life has taken over the last two years. I'll try to write down the whole story, warts and all, as I remember it. Maybe someday it'll give someone a good laugh.

CHAPTER 1

It was mid-March, a little more than two years ago, when I got the phone call that eventually changed everything. It was a nice day, giving the first serious hint that spring was on the way to the Mid-Atlantic States. My assistant Jimmy Blevins and I had spent the morning working in my greenhouses. I checked on our vegetable seedlings, spring annuals, perennials, and roses; all the stuff local gardeners would be clamoring for in a couple weeks.

At lunch time I grabbed my sandwich and thermos of soup and headed out to the last greenhouse on the left which Jimmy and I called "The Lab". While I ate, I checked out my latest experiments in rose hybridizing. A few of the plants looked promising and I marked their charts to keep watering and feeding them. The table in the back corner, though, severely disappointed me. The six seedlings had grown only thin, straggly canes with hardly any foliage. This experimental hybrid tea had failure written all over it. But, remembering the old adage 'nothing ventured, nothing gained', I gave each of them a good watering with a jolt of my secret rose fertilizer; then, feeling the fertilizer probably wouldn't do any good, I scribbled a note on their chart to get rid of them the next time we cleaned up or needed table space in the lab.

Jimmy interrupted me as I sipped my tomato soup, "Hey boss, you have a phone call."

I hustled up front to get the phone, "Thanks for calling David Hellsen Garden Center, this is David."

"Good afternoon Mr. Hellsen, my name is Katherine Summers. I see on your website that you design and install rose gardens." Her voice was soft and low-pitched; cultured and silky with just a hint of a southern drawl.

"Yes Ma'am. My garden center pays the bills, but roses are my first love."

"Excellent. I like people with a passion for what they do. I'd like to set up an appointment for you to stop by my home, take a look at my property, and prepare an estimate for a little project I have in mind?"

"I can do that. It's still early in the season so we aren't too busy yet--when would be best for you?"

"How about tomorrow mornin', say about 9:30?" Yup, a southern drawl.

"Sounds good. May I have your address and phone number, please?"

She gave them to me and we said our goodbyes. I recognized the address, or at least the general area; a very exclusive neighborhood with lots of gated enclaves. Feeling cynical, I reminded myself to add 20-25% to my estimate. I could always let her talk me down a bit if she had other bids I needed to compete with.

"Hey Jimmy!" I yelled out into the greenhouse complex, trying to find out where he was.

"Yo!" He responded from way out in greenhouse #5.

I walked out there and let him know about my appointment with Mrs. Summers the next day and that I would be coming in late. Also, as the boss, I saw it as my prerogative to rag on him about his increasingly shaggy beard, frayed jeans, and purple plaid work shirt, "You're looking like an 1800's mountain man." I laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He muttered. He'd heard it all before and knew I didn't give a damn what he looked like as long as he did a good day's work for a good day's pay.

The next morning, I found Mrs. Summers' "house" with no problem. It was, in reality, a fairly large mansion surrounded by beautifully manicured landscaping. I wondered jealously who did her work, not to mention what it would take to steal the contract sometime in the future.

Mrs. Summers' main residence was enormous, made of, or at least the front was covered with, stonework. Several dormered windows graced the upper floors. A four-car garage, in the same architectural style as the house, stood offset slightly to the left. The main entrance of the house was a beautiful double door with a half-moon shaped stained glass window above it. Matching rectangular stained-glass panels decorated both sides. A steeply gabled portico, supported by four stone and concrete columns protected visitors from the weather. I parked my truck in front of the last bay of the garage. I figured the door on the garage-side of the house would be the service entrance.

Mrs. Summers answered the door on my second knock. I was more than a little surprised; after our conversation on the phone I had imagined a woman in her early to mid-60s, maybe a little dumpy, graying. I was wrong on all counts. She was striking--without a doubt one of the most beautiful women I'd ever met. I guessed mid-40s. She had a rectangular-shaped face, amazing huge almond shaped eyes, green and wide-set, a small nose, and a perfect mouth. She was tall--maybe 5'10", well-built, trim but definitely not skinny. I'd bet this woman knew her way around a gym. She had light, honey-blonde hair, cut in a fashionable angled bob, with barely noticeable white streaks at the very front.

"Ahem," She interrupted my reverie and I snapped back to reality.

"I beg your pardon, I'm David Hellsen," I'm pretty sure I blushed in embarrassment at being caught staring.

"Hi David, I'm Katherine Summers." She smiled as we shook hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She led me into her house and invited me to sit down at the kitchen table.

"First off, Mrs. Summers, thank you for calling me..."

She tilted her head, studying me, "You're a lot younger than I expected, but I liked what you said about loving your roses. And please, call me Kate, like all my other friends, okay?" I nodded. "Anyway, let's get down to business. I have a contractor coming soon to build a gazebo out back. When it's done, I'd like to surround it with roses."

"Excellent." I pulled out my notebook and flopped it open onto the table. "About how big will the gazebo be?"

"Fifteen feet across. Would you like to take a look around out there?"

"Yes, please."

Over the next hour she escorted me all around the enormous property. Out back, hidden from public view, I found a large swimming pool surrounded by fencing, shrubbery, and cabanas. Off to the side she also had a tennis court. A beautifully manicured lawn surrounded everything. She showed me her well-equipped maintenance shed. There was plenty of open space and Mrs. Summers pointed out the area staked out for the gazebo. It looked good--plenty of room for gazebo and garden; plus, open enough to ensure plenty of sunshine and air for the roses.

"It looks like a good spot," I commented.

"Excellent. Shall we go back inside?" Suggested Mrs. Summers.

We returned to the kitchen, "Would you like something to drink, I have some tea in the fridge?" Mrs. Summers asked.

"I'd love some. Lemon and sugar?"

"Just the way I like it, too." She strolled over to the fridge and bent to get the pitcher of tea. Honestly, she was as perfect from the back as from the front. She handed me a glass and poured the tea. She pointed to the sugar bowl and set a saucer of lemon wedges between us on the table.

"Thanks Mrs. Sum..." She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow in my direction, "...I mean Kate," She nodded and smiled.

I re-opened my notebook and started some calculations concerning the square footage I'd need to fill. "Okay, Mrs...Kate, assuming we put in just a three-to-four-foot garden surrounding the gazebo, it could take as many as 30-40 bushes to cover the ground. Will that be okay?"

"Sounds good so far."

"Excellent. Now, what are your expectations for this garden?" She looked confused. "What I mean is: Do you want the roses only for a nice display out there? Or do you want to have roses to cut for bouquets. Do you have any special colors in mind?"

"I understand now. I'd like lots of variety. Definitely lots of cutting roses...especially red ones. I also want some roses with intense fragrances. Do you think you can make that work?"

"I sure can." I stood up. "Give me a week, and I'll put together a plan and cost estimate. If I call you in about ten days, will that be alright?"

"That will be fine. Hopefully, the gazebo will be in by then."

We said our goodbyes and I headed off for a day at the greenhouses.

After Jimmy and I locked up the shop, I drove back to my apartment. I warmed up a can of beef stew for supper, and then powered up my laptop and opened my design program. I pulled out my rose references and started thumbing through them. Even without the reference I knew I wanted to put in a few 'Mr. Lincolns', my favorite red rose. I wanted to add as many 'Double Delights' as I could--a hybrid-tea rose with a creamy white interior and ruby-red edging as well as an intoxicating scent. Also without looking, I penciled in a few 'Peace' roses, an old-time yellow and pink flower.

Then I went to work with the reference. I contemplated each rose, trying to put together an attractive mix. I ended up with a list that had reds, pinks, whites, and yellows. I included hybrid teas, floribundas, and even a couple English roses--just for fun. While I plotted locations on my design software I toyed with the idea of a border of miniature roses, but tabled that idea.

The next morning at the greenhouse I printed out the first draft of my design, but didn't really like it. I showed it to Jimmy. He kind of wrinkled his nose, sniffed, and said I'd done better work. So, I tore it up, erased the file on my thumb drive, and decided to start over--later. I got back to work in the greenhouses. That day was a heavy-lifting day. Jimmy and I spent the hours moving spring plants from the greenhouse growing tables to the central sales area--the left side was for annuals, the right side for vegetables.

That first week went by quickly. I spent each day at the greenhouses getting ready for the spring season. Business was picking up quickly and keeping us busy, not to mention profitable. Then in the evening, after eating, I'd study my rose guides and plug different combinations into my software and trying to put together the perfect display for Mrs. Summers. I fiddled with the design all week--never quite satisfied. Finally, on Thursday night, as I sat at my laptop, stumped, I tipped my chair back and began daydreaming. I imagined Mrs. Summers walking around in her garden checking the roses. I pictured her holding and sniffing each of the roses I'd selected. If she smiled it was good. If she didn't, I got rid of it. After a while I looked at my clock and was surprised to see it was 3 AM. I saved my work and went to bed.

I got up in the morning, showered and ate breakfast. I reopened SummersGarden.doc to review. This time I knew I had it. Excited, I called Mrs. Summers and asked if I could stop by to show her my plans and cost estimates.

"David it's wonderful to hear from you. If you can get here right away, come on. But I do have an important function this evening I have to attend. We must finish before I have to start getting ready."

"I'll see you in a little while then." I rushed to the greenhouse, printed out my plan and cost estimate, grabbed my laptop, and headed out for my appointment.

Mrs. Summers greeted me at the door before I could knock. She offered me a cup of coffee, and immediately asked to see my plans. I rolled them out and we used her ladybug salt and pepper shakers and a matching sugar bowl to keep them flat. I set the paper with my pricing calculations beside the plan. While sipping her coffee she sat down, slipped on a pair of reading glasses, and started looking at the plans. I sat quietly and waited. While she perused my plans, I tried not to be too obvious in checking her out. She was wearing loose, flowing, maroon slacks contrasted by a tailored, snug-fitting, button-down white blouse. She wore a heavy-looking gold link necklace and matching earrings. I idly wondered if she always left the top two buttons open on her blouse, or if they were for my benefit. 'Yeah, dream on garden boy' I thought to myself.

After five, maybe 10 minutes, which seemed like 50, Mrs. Summers looked up and said, "I think I understand. The way you've graduated and blended the colors it's almost like a rainbow."

"Exactly!" I slapped my hand on the table, excited that she understood.

She stopped and closed her eyes; she looked like she was counting on her fingers. She opened her eyes, "I was just recalling a mnemonic I used when I was teaching: ROY G BIV -- for the colors of the rainbow. Are there really green and purple roses

"There are--although they are fairly rare. I have a couple varieties in mind; but if I can't get them I'll leave empty spots that I can fill when they become available. So, as you see the front half of the garden--facing the house--is the rainbow. The back half--out of sight--I'll set up good-sized blocks of red, pink, and white cutting roses, and Double Delight for its scent."

I took a sip of my coffee hoping she liked my ideas; at the same time preparing to defend my cost estimates. "Excellent. I like your concept--very original." She started to point out something on my plan just as her phone rang. I was a bit surprised to see she still had an old-fashioned landline.

"Hello?" A pause.

"Hi Brantley," She smiled--My God! She had a wonderful smile--and her hand fluttered to her chest. Maybe the open buttons weren't for me after all. "I'm looking forward to this evening, I..." She frowned, and her eyes narrowed. As much as I admired her smile, I would not want to be the person on the receiving end of that scowl.

"What do you mean you can't make it tonight?" I swear she hissed, "We've had this planned for over two months." Silence. Her frown deepened.

"Don't...you...dare...tell me 'something' has come up at work. You're the CEO of the company. Send one of your vice-presidents to take care of it." Another pause, a little longer this time.

"Dammit Brantley, if you're the only one who can handle it, what kind of people are you hiring? Fine!" She slammed her phone down. For a second, I thought she was going to throw the handset. She took a deep breath and then sighed, "I knew I shouldn't have trusted that man."

I started picking up my stuff, figuring the meeting was over since Mrs. Summers now had other things on her mind. This Brantley, whoever he was, had ruined the morning.

"David, wait. Can you give me a few minutes to make some calls? Then we can finish."

"Yes Ma'am. Would it be okay if I go out and dig a few holes around the gazebo site and get some soil samples to see if I'll need to amend your soil before I plant the roses."

"That would be fine." She looked distracted.

I went to my truck and grabbed a few of the sample bags I keep handy. I found a shovel in her tool shed. It was very warm for this early in the year, so I stripped off my shirt, and got to work. I plotted out a rough circle around the area marked for the gazebo, then dug several holes around it to get the soil. At first glance it looked fine. Nice dark, rich soil with plenty of worms going about their business. Looking around I didn't see any warning signs of bad drainage. There was lots of sun. It looked good.

I heard the kitchen door open, "David? Can you come in for a minute?" Mrs. Summers yelled across the backyard. I waved. I put the shovel back in the shed and dropped the sample bags in the bed of my truck and put my shirt back on before going inside.

As I entered the house, I held up my dirt crusted hands. Mrs. Summers grimaced, and stuck out her tongue as if to gag, then smiled and pointed to the kitchen sink.

After washing up, I sat down at the table. Mrs. Summers came over and sat across from me. "Uh, David, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Well, like I said earlier, I have a function to attend tonight and you heard my date stand me up. Even though these are modern times, unmarried women are expected to have an escort."

"That's dumb, why don't you just skip it?" Have I mentioned I'm not the most social person?

She gave me a bemused look, "You don't pay much attention to state politics, do you?"

"Not really, no. So what?"

"Well, tonight is the annual conference and dinner for the state's conservative party. And, seeing as how I'm the conservative party's state chairperson. Well, I have to attend."

"I see." No, I didn't, but hey...

"Anyway, David, I made several calls and everyone I spoke with is unavailable--or at least unwilling--to help me out." I had a sudden hunch where this conversation was heading and I didn't like it. My gut fluttered. Mrs. Summers reached over and placed her hand on top of mine, "I wondered if you'd be willing to be my escort for the evening."

I panicked, "Mrs....I mean Kate. I couldn't. I mean...look at me... I'm filthy, my hair's too long, and let's face it, you're a VIP and I'm a nobody." I paused for breath; looking for an escape. "I assume this is a fancy-dress affair?"

Mrs. Summers nodded, "Formal. Black tie"

I pulled my hand away and spread my arms, "You see? I don't even own a tie, never mind a jacket."

"David, hold on a second. I'll agree that right now you're not totally, ahem, presentable. But let's say, just hypothetically, of course..." She gave me a brilliant smile--I'd have stormed the gates of hell for that smile--"If you had a haircut and a good suit, would you be willing to escort me this evening?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I'd be proud to." It was all just hypothetical--right?

"Good." She smiled even more brightly, patted my hand, and sat back in her chair, "Watch this." She grabbed the phone and dialed. I was a little surprised that the phone worked after the way she'd slammed it down earlier.

She sat there, tapping a dark red fingernail on the table while she waited, finally she stood up straight, "Hello, Henri?" She pronounced it 'On-ree', and nasal as if she had a cold. "It's Katherine Summers." A pause, "Yes, my hair is still perfect. Thank You. How is Jacob?"