Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Thirty - A Flower to Withstand

Chapter Thirty 

A Flower to Withstand 

"What do you know about poppies?" I ask Lady Lavender the day after Yarrow and I had painted my bed. The poppies had come to me so quickly, as if flowing from my mind, down my arm and into the paintbrush, but anyone I had asked about them didn't know much besides their colour. 

Sweat Pea had only smiled coyly when I had asked. She bumped her hip against mine before going to her session with Wister, giving me exactly zero answers.

Even Yarrow, who seemed to always know everything, shrugged and told me to find Lady Lavender outside tending to the hedges in the maze. It was June and the very birds seemed to be rejoicing the good weather as they chirped. It was easy on a day like today to imagine that they were chirping for me alone when the swallows swirled in formation over my head. 

When I found Lady Lavender, bent low and clipping the hedgerows, I suddenly found myself feeling a little silly for rushing out here as if I were a child trying to show off my good grades.

She looks up and wipes her brow on the back of her hand, still looking utterly glorious in a lilac dungaree set despite the sweat and sun beating down on her neck. 

I hesitate. 

"I like your dungarees," I say if only to fill the silence.

Lady Lavander beams and laughs as I jump when Mr. Flurry suddenly emerges from beneath a hedgerow behind me. 

"Thank you, child," She is gracious in her smile. "I took a leaf out of your book!" 

She gestures to my own, paint-splattered yellow dungarees. I wonder for a moment if my mother would have every sent me here if she knew that this psychiatric doctor wore purple dungarees on the weekend and regularly made snow angels in the grass with the little children. Somehow, I doubt it. 

"You have a question?" She asks, patiently. As if to give me time to think, she turns back to the hedge and begins clipping. "Can you pick up the clippings, love?" 

I nod and set about work, unsure as to why I am so hesitant to ask about a simple flower. No, that wasn't entirely true. I know what I'm afraid of. If Lady Lavander laughed at my question, it might break my small piece of recovery in two. 

"Do you have a spare deck of cards that you might not want anymore?" I ask, stalling. It's obvious to both of us. The corner of Lady Lavender's mouth lifts up slightly. 

"Sure, in my room. I'll get them for you tonight. What are they for, if you don't mind me asking? A recovery project with Wister?" 

It's my turn to smile. That is something that Wister would find a deep and meaningful beauty in.

"No - it's an idea for Sweet Pea's birthday next week." After I saw the joy of Juniper's birthday, I feel determined to help make Sweet Pea smile.

She nods. 

"That's kind of you – and knowing your talents, it will be something utterly wonderful. Now, do you want to ask me what you really came here for?" She says, not unkindly. 

"What do you know about poppies?" I blurt, cutting my thumb on a spiked briar. I watch the blood well up to the tip of my thumb as I wait, my heart beating hard enough to crack my chest bone.

"Poppies, poppies, poppies..." She says, staring at the hedging intently. I imagine her mind, flitting through her encyclopedic knowledge of flowers and trees at breakneck speed. One day, I would love to know as much about anything as she does about flowers. 

"There are many different types of poppies, from common field poppies to opium poppies and red corn poppies. Generally, they have four to six petals and though most believe them to be red or pink, they actually come in a variety of colours." She stops talking, looking at me. I nod encouragingly for her to continue and she smiles. Good – she's not laughing. 
"Poppies can be annual, biennial or even perennial flowers and range in sizes dramatically. Poppies belong to the Papaveraceae family." 

I stuck my thumb in my mouth to stop the blood flow from my cut, but continue picking up clippings with my left-hand. Lady Lavender knows it all – everything from the plant's average height to the regions of the world one could find them. When she seemed to have exhausted her extensive knowledge she popped her clippers back into the basket for her clippings. 

"That's enough for today, I think," She says, standing back and observing her progress smiling widely. 

We walk back towards the garden sheds and Lady Lavander throws the clippings onto the compost pile by the greenhouse and tunnel. 

"Do you think you've found a special bond in poppies, Ever?" Her question is kind and she still isn't laughing.

Still, it seemed safer to settle for a shrug. 

Lady Lavander observes me for a minute. I don't want to wonder why she sees. Chaos wouldn't even begin to cover it. She comes closer to me and rests a warm hand on my shoulder. For some reason, I almost sink into her touch. It's just so... motherly. 

"You shouldn't feel guilty for expressing your passions, Ever," She says softly. "Especially when these passions help return you to who you have always been." 

I take a breath. Her words crack something in my chest. A vault where the big-bad-feelings-and-emotions are kept. That vault has cobwebs, by now. 

"I want that name. Poppy." I haven't said anything with this much conviction in a while. At least something that wasn't an insult. 

Lady Lavander takes her hand from my shoulder and seems to contemplate. She mouths the name a few times. 

"Yes, that fits you exceptionally well." She agrees. 

My heart swells. 

"Why?" 

"Of all of the poppies I know, of all of the flowers in the fields, there is only one I saw once that suits you quite as well." I wait, patiently but still itching for information. "An arctic poppy." 

I frown. I hadn't known poppies grew even in the arctic. 

"The arctic poppy," She begins, taking my hand. Her touch is so alien but so right. I had driven my own mother away a long time ago. "Stays green throughout winter, in the most extreme and harsh conditions." 

A lump forms in my throat and I avoid looking at Lady Lavander. She nods as if she understands utterly what her simple compliment means to me. 

"The colour of the arctic poppy that follows the sun continuously, despite these conditions," She reaches up and touches my ribbon that is tied around my loose bun. "is yellow."

A/N:

Hello loves,

I hope you are enjoying Ever's journey to becoming Poppy. The concept of an arctic poppy (one of my personal favourite flowers) seemed to perfect to ignore for this story.

PS: Posting a day early as I'm away this Friday!

Jen xx