A slight breeze stirred the branches of distant trees as Caroline walked the garden path, head down in contemplation. It had been a long time since the party where she met Eric, a long time since she walked through this garden laughing and flirting. Even now, she felt something stir inside to think of that moment that had come and gone so quickly. It was an instant of magic so sudden she hadn't had time to think about what she was doing. Time had become meaningless, and all that mattered was the heat of that moment. He swept her away, and she wanted nothing more than to drift in that current all night.
They arrived at a gazebo covered in climbing roses that sat on the bank of a tiny stream. Here they lingered to talk while she tossed rose petals into the passing water. A smile came to her lips to remember how he looked at her and the tension that was evident in his eyes. A moment was building, and she was sure they both felt it. Alone in the garden, a storm was brewing, and soon the waters would begin to pour. She felt such a desire to have Eric that restraint had long since been abandoned. She was alive with need and ready to feed that desperate hunger.
There was a distant rumble of thunder as she sighed and looked to the sky. All that energy had gone to waste in the blink of an eye. Just as suddenly as the moment had come, he received an urgent phone call, and he had to leave. Whatever was said upset him, and he hurried off with an apology for leaving her this way. She never did get his number or anything besides his first name.
She began to wonder what they had talked about for the few hours they spent together. It all seemed a blur, with only snippets of conversation coming to mind. She was sure he had talked about himself but couldn't recall what was said. Had she been so lost in her need that words were meaningless? All she could remember for certain was the irresistible desire to make love to him.
That night was only a memory now, one that played in her mind often. She felt ashamed of how often she dreamed of what might have been. She did her best to push the thoughts from her mind, but somehow they always remained. Lost in the back of her subconsciousness, they hid and waited until her guard was down. She would be busy with her day that night far from her mind, only to wake up and realize she had been dwelling on it for hours. She would be back in that gazebo, staring into his eyes, wondering what might have been.
That was months ago, and this was the first time she had been able to return to the estate. Now she walked the same path they had that night and allowed her mind to wander freely. She traced their path through the garden, leaving the house well behind as she approached the hedge wall. Here, the relative flat of the lawn gave way to the flower gardens beyond. Even now, she could smell the faint traces of roses, sweet and subtle, drifting on the breeze. She arrived at the endless wall of green that towered overhead. A single iron gate penetrated its surface like the door of some druidic castle wall.
The gate groaned as she pushed it open and passed through the green archway into the world beyond. Here the breeze was slightly stronger, blowing unhindered by the wall that protected the yard. It flowed across her skin in gentle caresses as it swept across a vast expanse of colorful gardens. The ridged forms of squares and rectangles were abandoned in favor of winding paths through blankets of flowers. They grew in great beds laid out in colorful patterns that swayed and danced in the breeze.
The inner yard had straight lines made of brick to walk through the lawns. Here the path was made of natural stone with moss filling the gaps. It wound its way through the beds, twisting around gentle hills and the occasional copse of trees. Everything in the flower garden seemed soft and gentle full of curves and slopes. It would take her several minutes to wind her way around the hills of color until finally descending a gentle slope as the garden approached a stream. It was here, on the far edge of the gardens, that the gazebo could be found. It was a secluded space, hidden beyond the lawn, the hedge wall, and the ocean of flowers. It was an island of isolation tucked away where only the most intrepid of explorers would find. It was built directly on the shores of a shallow stream so that one side hung over the water. With a sigh of longing, she looked ahead, eager to see the hidden structure. It was the place her mind liked to visit when she lost control, and it began to wander.
She took a deep inhale and smiled a the sweet scent of roses mixed with a hint of water. It was the unmistakable scent of distant rain, hinting at a storm in the distance. It was just like that night as she walked in the garden with him, the storm echoing her desire as they both grew in intensity.
Statuary abounded, hidden in the beds of flowers awaiting discovery by those who dared to wander the twisting paths. Large stone planters shaped like urns dotted the landscape as well. These were planted with flowers that cascaded down their sides in ropes of green. They invited those who passed by to reach out and touch the silky petals of their delicate flowers.
Around a small cluster of flowering trees, the trail began to descend the slope revealing the destination of her long journey. She could just see it, the rose-drenched building where he left her standing alone with a consuming fire burning inside.
Even now, she wondered about that intoxicating night. He seemed to flood her senses with his presence overwhelming that which was herself. In a moment, all her reservations fell away, leaving a need to surrender. She wanted to offer up all that she was to him as a gift of feminine power.
What had come over her, that broke through all the barriers and bore down on her soul? All he had done was smile, share a drink, and offer some polite conversation. Maybe it was the fact that he smiled every time he looked at her. Maybe it was because his body language radiated strength and confidence, yet his manner was gentle and polite. Maybe, he was simply the first man she had ever met worthy of the gift.
Finally, the gazebo was in full view, its latticework completely overgrown with climbing roses. There were four distinct panels, and each was grown with a different color, from vibrant yellow to deep brooding red. They blanketed the structure so that it was just another bed of flowers lost to the garden. Her heart began to beat faster as her memories replayed this moment from before. Here had been the perfect place to share her gift, an isolated oasis of scent and color.
Stepping closer, her eyes began to search for something that tickled at the back of her mind. Something was out of place, and as she neared the steps, it was readily apparent. The steps were completely covered in red and pink rose petals so that the wood beneath was nearly completely hidden. Inside, a circular futon had been placed in the center and drenched deeply in rose petals that spilled over the sides like drifting snow. So thick were the waves of petals that she could not see the futon's actual color.
She paused in the doorway, drinking deeply of the lovely scent as she tried to make sense of it. This hadn't been here that magical night, but she wished it had. She began to dream about what might have happened on this bed of petals as it became the sight of their passion. She waded ankle-deep into the carpet of silk, hungry to sit on the bed and imagine what it might have been like.
