“Coming!” Flora sang, hurrying down the stairs of her loft and to the door.  The knocking continued to pound, rattling the paper thin walls and cheap doors.  Flipping the flimsy lock, Flora jerked open the door with a laugh.  “Jackie, you couldn’t have”–  She trailed off, staring up at a pair of silver shoes.  Her gaze traveled up the strong arms, locking with a pair of ice blue eyes that had haunted her dreams every night for a month.

“Nate.”  She tried to swallow, her throat like sandpaper.

“Jackie didn’t tell you?”  The smile had never left his eyes, his lips twitching, ready to explode with a secret.

“No.”  The awkward pause hung in the doorway, shuffling its feet.  “Oh!”  She jumped to the side, extending an arm.  “Won’t you come in?”

“I’d love to.”  He stepped inside, drinking in the small apartment.  A tattered couch stood ashamed in the corner, a large table in the center littered with a fireworks of colorful fabric.  A cluster of mannequins watched from their spot next to the minute kitchen, their ornate gowns out of place with colorful sunflower place mats.  Flora slid along the wall, pulling her bedroom door shut quietly.  That was the last thing she needed Nate to see.  Plucking at her skirt, she shifted back and forth. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s not as nice as your cottage.”  Nate stepped over to a ladder propped against the wall, peering up.  “Not even close.  What’s up there?”

“Jackie’s garden.  She said even if I was only going to be here for a year or two, I needed a garden.”  She forced down the lump in her throat, her words scratching across the thick tension between them.  “So…I still have the cottage?”

Nate’s head jerked down.  One butterfly shoe clattered to the floor.  “Of course!  Your grandmother gave you the cottage!  My grandmother wasn’t lying when she said it was yours.”  Flora’s lips tightened and he flushed.  “I mean, I know she’s not the most…truthful…person…”

She plucked her skirt, sliding the fabric between her fingers.  Glancing at the door, she prayed Jackie would return with their take-out.  Or perhaps a ghost would appear.  Even her mother.   She would take anything.

Nate clutched the other shoe, fingering the silver butterfly glittering on top of the white satin.  “It’s not the same since you left.”

“I doubt much has changed.”  Her voice was harder than she intended.  She coughed, heat rising to her cheeks.  “I mean…”

“I know what you mean.  But things have changed.”

“Like what?”  She rolled her eyes.  “Did the pizza place stop serving pepperoni?”

“Even worse.”  Nate’s eyes gleamed.  “They fired Proffessor Skippy.”

Flora dropped the skirt rumpled in her fingers.  “What?” she croaked.  “Be serious!”

“I am.  Miss Tuttlesworth took over.  She’s the dean now.”

Flora swayed, grabbing her couch and hanging on.  “She called me last week, but I’ve been so busy with class…”  She laughed.  “Well, good for her.  I’ll have to call her.”

“And I’m sure  you know Astrid returned her crown.”  Nate grinned as Flora collapsed onto the couch, gaping at him.

“What?  Why?  She could have gotten a scholarship, traveled…”  Suddenly, a veil draped over her, her face carefully falling back to its old mask.  “I’m glad you two have become so close,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on Nate’s shoes.  “She’s a beautiful girl.”

Nate burst out laughing.  He leaned forward, pulling Flora up.  “Come on, show me your garden.”

Stiffly, she climbed up the ladder, clutching her skirt around her knees.  She stepped to the side, waiting as Nate stepped up into the small space.  He whistled, looking out at the buildings lining the skyline.

“It’s like a little piece of Mr. Grissom in New York.”  He pointed.  “Is that Parsons?  You go every day.”

“That’s what fashion students do.”  She turned, her hair whipping across her face.  “The wind makes me tear up,” she muttered, dabbing at her eyes.  “It’s so harsh up here…”

“It’s a pretty garden, but it needs some butterflies.”  Nate stepped toward her, extending the shoe.  “Some silver butterflies.”

Flora turned, barely glancing at her grandmother’s slipper.  “They’re gone, Nate.  They flew away during the Coronation, remember?”

“See, that’s the thing about butterflies.”  Nate pulled the butterfly off the satin slipper, setting it on the iron table.  “Mr. Grissom taught me all about them.  They may go away for awhile, but if you treat them right, they come back.”  Stringing the butterfly on a chain dotted with diamonds, he bent down, looking up to her.  “I didn’t want you to leave.  I thought you’d be happy.  I went to your cottage after Coronation, ready to take you out as my girlfriend.  That’s when Jackie told me you were gone, what you had done.”

She couldn’t pull back the tears streaming down her cheeks.  “Nate, I”–

He draped the necklace around her neck.  “And at first, I’ll admit, I was hurt.  My ego was more bruised than anything.  I wanted to run after you, to drag you back home.  I was going to buy you a shop, buy you all the silks and satins you could ever want.  Astrid and her friends are desperate for gowns, desperate for you to come back.”

“Nate…”  She trailed off as he pressed a finger to her lips.  “But then my grandmother, of all people, stopped me.  She said I couldn’t chase love and put it in a box to look at it whenever I wanted.  She said I had to let love grow.  And if I was lucky, it would come back to me.”  He got down on one knee, holding Flora’s hand.  “If I’m lucky, you’ll let me wait for you.  And when you’re ready, you’ll let me follow you.  And if you love me, you’ll come back home with me, marry me.  Home to our garden, our butterflies.  When you’re ready, of course.”  He kissed her palm.  “So tell me, Flora.  Do you think butterflies ever come back home?”

Flora stared over his head, at the tall skyscrapers behind the violets and petunias Jackie and Mr. Grissom had painted.  A tiny butterfly landed on the landing.  She sucked in her breath, taking in the orange wings, the rich black marks.  The wings opened and closed, confirming the joy bursting in her heart.

She looked down at Nate and smiled.  “I do.”

Whooping, he leaped up, spinning her around and around.  And after his lips left hers, she watched the butterfly nestle into her sunflowers.

For they had both found their garden, at last.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  A new Sidewalk Dreams tomorrow!

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