Page 70 of Charlotte
“A little.”
“I am wounded.” Her lips puckered in a slight pout.
“You asked.”
“I asked for honesty, not botanical cruelty.”
The smile came then, small but real.
It changed his entire demeanor, and Lottie felt her insides clench. He looked younger when he smiled, and less burdened by whatever was on his mind.
Lottie wanted, with sudden fierceness, to see that smile again.
Instead of saying so, she bent over her drawing. “Very well. Church bell. I shall improve it.”
She managed to improve the drawing, mostly because Peterson’s advice was annoyingly good.
When the camas was drawn and one blossom set between clean paper, Lottie stood and moved toward the wild roses.
Peterson followed but stopped her before she reached for the nearest bloom.
“Mind the thorns.”
“I see them.”
“No, you see the flowers.”
She looked back at him. “That is a fair correction.”
He reached past her with his left hand and lifted one cane enough to show where the thorns hooked beneath the leaves. His sleeve brushed the edge of her glove. Lottie froze, not because she feared the thorns.
“Choose one not fully open,” he said. “If you mean to press it.”
“Do you know how to press flowers?”
His hand remained on the rose cane. “It would make sense the delicate petals won’t tear if the bloom is still slightly closed.”
“Did you learn that from your mother?”
“Aye.”
“She pressed them?”
“In her Bible. Leaves mostly. Flowers when they held their color.” He looked at the bloom rather than at Lottie. “Said a person ought to keep proof of summer in winter. Then she would quote a Bible verse, ‘Consider how the wildflowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.’”
Lottie’s throat tightened. “I like that very much.”
“So did I.”
He released the cane and reached for a smaller rosebud tucked beneath the open blossoms. “This one might do.”
“Will you press it?”
His hand paused.
“For the field pages,” she added. “Only if you wish.”
Peterson looked at the rosebud. Then he took out his pocketknife, opened it with his left hand, and cut the stem cleanly.
