FIC: Six Of Cups
Title: Six Of Cups
Author: vensre
Starring: Jamie/Geoff
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The way I can imagine is not the true Way.
Notes: Beta by ali_jayne. Any weirdness or mistakes are mine alone.
The six of cups is a tarot card, the meaning of which can be found here.
There is a prequel to this story ~ Nine Of Swords.
:~:
On the table in the morning there were flowers.
Geoff wasn't sure how Jamie had managed it, but it had to have been Jamie. He was here, after all - although he didn't seem to be right at the moment, and it was unusual for him to get up so early.
Not that Geoff could claim to know Jamie's habits anymore. He had been away for months now, withdrawn from uni and backed out of their lease to go back to his little room at the top of the Holmes Inn and do whatever it is that he does, on his own. He'd been in bad shape when he left; horribly down - hardly functional, really. Nothing Geoff had done to help had been enough in the end, and he truly wondered if he'd seen the last of his friend, retreating back to solitude as he was. But now Jamie was here, in Geoff's new flat, inexplicable as always. He'd come for his visit late yesterday, and startled Geoff by hugging the breath out of him as soon as he was in reach. They had a week to spend together. It looked as though Jamie intended to fill it with the maximum of oddness.
As to the manifestation of that oddness: well, it had happened once before. Only once, some two months before Jamie left. He had supposed it to be thanks for comforting Jamie after one of his night terrors. Those flowers had been on the table when he'd returned from class the next day, bound with a bit of twine same as these. These were types he recognised, though; the other ones, although vaguely familiar, he had not had names to put to. He had, however, made note of them in his journal at the time, which shouldn't be too hard to locate.
Geoff dug that up out of his things in only a few minutes, and laid it open next to the new bouquet to compare. Same twine. Same pattern, really: two types of flowers and a little branch of leaves. The note beside a rough sketch of the previous boquet of unnamed flowers reminded him that he had thanked Jamie that evening, but Jamie had just blinked at him.
If he thought of this phenomenon as a case, it had never been closed, and was certainly live now. So... current notebook, pen, his new digital camera - check. He recorded the new bouquet with a brief sketch to scale, a photo, and a list of the contents, since he recognised the flowers at least. Three stalks of purple hyacinth were bound to a single stem of geranium, accompanied by greenery of some sort. He outlined its leaf in his notebook, ran a copy of the old bouquet's page and stapled it in, and put his fresh flowers in a glass of water on the windowsill.
Geoff went over his investigatory options. Jamie hadn't answered his direct approach last time, so there was no reason to think he would this time. In fact, this felt distinctly like some sort of game. Since Jamie was out, he could nip over to the library and get a flower identification guide in an hour or less without being obvious about it.
Geoff was halfway to the library on his motorbike when a sign for cut flowers caught his eye. He turned around and pulled in, looking curiously through the windows. The place was open, and upon entering he found it very full of plants, so much so that any till or workstation there might be was hidden at first. But rounding a potted shrubbery, he located a window with a bit of counter at the bottom, and a silver bell sitting out. He rang it once, and waited.
Presently a short, dark woman who looked to be somewhere in her fifties appeared, gloved and muddy. She stuck her face out the little aperture. "Can I help ye?"
"Er, I hope so," said Geoff. "I was given some flowers, and I'm not sure what they are. Might you be able to identify them?"
"Let's have a look, then."
Geoff set his notes on the counter, and was relieved when she didn't pick them up, just leaned over, squinting at them. "Heh. Not a bad little doodle, there. I think I can tell ye. This," she pointed to the first bouquet, "is milk vetch. Tied with thornapple, and of course that's a fern. And the other, well... Looks like you know what hyacinth is, that's good. Geranium, aye. The greens are wormwood, by this leaf you've drawn." She looked up. "Will that be all?"
"Well." Geoff pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "I'm also not too sure... should I give flowers in return? I just don't know the etiquette of it."
"Eh, lad. I couldn't swear t' this, but it looks as though with this one here," she gestured to that morning's flowers, "Somebody's trying to apologise t' you."
"Really? How can you tell?"
"In the language o' the flowers, hyacinth of this colour means forgive me, unless I'm much mistaken. Purple, correct?"
"Yes. Language of the flowers? You mean like a red rose means love and a yellow one means just friends?"
"Close enough. 'Twas a Victorian practise, revelling in their repression and all that. I'd say giving flowers back is up t' you, now, but ye'd best tell her if she's forgiven."
"Erm. Okay..."
"Do you want to give something? If you want to say back that it's alright - or that it's not - I can put you something together."
"I suppose... yes. I would like to try. It's a kind of a code, isn't it."
"It certainly is! Now. What are you wanting to say?"
"That it's alright. That there's nothing to apologise for. Can you do that?"
"Of course we can! Let me get my book down."
A quarter-hour later, Geoff was riding home with a carefully shielded little clutch of flowers: white jasmine with apple blossoms and a sprig of white ivy tendrils, which disappeared from the table that afternoon after Jamie came back to the flat.
Jamie and Geoff had lunch. They played video games. They had a walk out to the river, and a nap in the den, and a late dinner of cold pizza. Geoff tried not to think about the flowers. He tried not to hope there would be more tomorrow.
:~:
Geoff burst into the shop, stuck his head through the little window, and called, "What does a pink rose mean!"
"All right, hold yer horses," said the proprietress, coming out of the greenhouse. "What, now?"
"A pink rose! There's a pink rose here, what does it mean?"
"Oh, you brought it this time. And freesia! That's a pleasant little workup. Let me get the book down, lad, and we'll check it out for ye."
Geoff tried not to squirm while she was paging through the book, or snap when she looked up freesia first.
"Says here freesia could mean innocence or trust. That's sweet. All is forgiven, then?"
"Sure, whatever, and the rose?"
"Pink rose, pink rose... Here it is. Rose, pink. Could mean any of the following: perfect happiness, secret love, grace and sweetness, indecision. Sounding familiar to you?"
Geoff was completely befuddled. "Well... Indecision, maybe? But what does that mean?"
She smiled a little. "Are you sure she mightn't mean secret love? Or she may be perfectly happy the way it is now."
"Well. I don't... I have no idea. I suppose. Well. I want to answer, 'cause I don't think I'll get any more flowers unless I give more, but..."
"What to say? Well, I can help y' out, if ye like."
"Yes. Please. Thank you for all your help so far, too."
"Oh, it's not a trouble! Just promise you'll tell me how it all turns out!"
"If you like. I don't think it's going to be anything special, really." Geoff smiled, distinctly reminded of Hetty.
She shrugged. "My interest is piqued, is all. Now, what're the qualities of our mysterious flower-giver, do you know?"
"Yeah. Let's see. Very innocent and intelligent. A loyal friend, with many talents. Recently quite ill."
"I'm sorry t' hear that. Hmm. What would you judge her best feature to be?"
"Physical feature?" Geoff nibbled on a bit of the spearmint leaf bound into his bouquet. "Eyes, probably. Or hands."
"I think azalea, for taking care. And dogwood blossom. And some cedar ornament, that would be lovely if you prefer to keep to the pattern of a group of three."
"Um, all right."
"Seven pounds, please," she said, binding the flowers with a white ribbon. Geoff blinked numbly and handed over the cash.
:~:
"Hello?"
"I'm right here, no need to shout. And the name's Marcie, not 'hey you'."
"Marcie. I'm Geoff."
"I know. Saw yer notebook. Got another bit of code for us today?"
"Yeah..."
"You don't seem so excited. Something going wrong?"
"Just. Well, have a look."
Marcie picked up the note attached to today's bouquet. "I think we're using different books. -J. Ah, some sort of misunderstanding?"
"I don't know if I should keep doing this. I haven't a clue what kind of messages I'm sending, not really."
"What have we got, there, a daffodil, and... I'm not sure I know this one. Let me get my identifier."
Geoff waited uncomfortably while she shuffled her papers about, and eventually was rewarded with a glossy photo in her identifier of his same flowers, growing wild.
"That's love-in-a-mist." She flipped to the L section in the flower language handbook. And it means, you puzzle me."
"Oh."
"Don't be so downcast, boy! Let's look at the daffodil, then we can see what our greenery means."
"You mean, the greens have meanings, too?"
"Oh, yes! Just a moment. Hm. Daffodil." She glanced up at his face before continuing. "Means the sun shines when I'm with you. Or it could have the connotation of unrequited love... My. Is it her love that's unrequited?" She asked gently. "Or yours?"
"I... don't know. I really don't know."
"Mmkay, let's see here." She sniffed at the sleek greens, and her eyes widened. "Lemon grass?" She flipped a few pages, and looked at the book owlishly, but didn't show Geoff. "Ah, well, isn't that something else."
"What?"
Marcie raised her eyebrows at him. "Just tell me if I'm right: it's not a lass at all. It's a lad, giving you these flowers."
"Uhhhhhh." Geoff felt his cheeks heating up at being so blatantly caught out. He rubbed his face, grimacing. "How can you know that?"
"So! It was either that 'J' was a lad, or that she didn't fancy you after all. Seeing as lemon grass means - well, have a look." She turned it around for him and pointed to the words homosexual love.
"Ahahah. Er."
"No need t' be bashful about it, boy. Let's get this sorted, shall we? Pull those crates over here and have a seat."
Geoff did, and pulled himself together while he was at it. "I don't know how to verify if we're using the same book except asking outright, which seems to be off limits. Maybe if we go through from the beginning and list the meanings of everything, this will make more sense."
"It's worth a go. This is the only book of it I've got, but. Maybe the library?"
"I don't know, I can look. In the meantime, though. Okay." He tore a fresh sheet out of his notebook to make a table, then flipped back to the page with the earliest flowers. "First... thornapple, milk vetch, and fern? That must've been six months ago."
Marcie flipped through her book. "Thornapple. Means, I dreamed of thee. That's lovely."
Geoff recorded that in the table. "Makes sense, too. He was having nightmares." He shrugged when she wrinkled her brow at that.
"What was the next?"
"Milk vetch. Then fern."
"Milk vetch means: Your presence softens my pain." She didn't comment, but it was pretty clear she was forming the idea of a tragic, romantic prince-type character (though such a generalisation could hardly do Jamie justice, to Geoff's way of thinking). "And fern? Magic, fascination, confidence, shelter. Any or all of those."
"Thank you," Geoff said, scribbling to keep up.
"Not a problem. Now, the second batch was hyacinth, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, and geranium, and wormwood."
"Purple hyacinth... sorry, please forgive me, or sorrow. Geranium.... Don't look so tormented, it'll be alright."
"When he got ill, he had to stop uni and move back to his hometown. Left me with a two-person flat to look after and some of his things to remind me that my best friend had bailed on me. I said some things then I never should have said."
"But you've forgiven him that now, and he's certainly forgiven you, considering he leaves you flowers every day! Best not to dwell on what can't be changed."
Geoff sighed. "Right. Er, geraniums?"
"True friend, stupidity, folly. On a similar track."
"Yep. And wormwood?"
"Absence. Do not be discouraged. See? He's missing you, the poor thing."
"Not at the moment, he's not. He's taking up my sofa this week. So, what about the ones I gave him in return? Apple blossom..?"
"That one was better things to come, if I recall." Marcie flipped the pages some more. "Oh, and also preference."
"Preference?"
"Aye. What was next?"
"What does 'preference' even mean?"
"I couldn't say. Now, what was next?"
Geoff scowled. "White jasmine. This is kind of important to me, you know? I can't believe I gave him those flowers when even you don't know what they mean. How could he possibly get a message from that?"
"Let it go for now." She paused, staring at the book, then sighed. "All right, today's flowers are on the house."
He blinked. "Oh. Well, thank you."
"Moving along! Jasmine, of the white variety, means amiability. That's the 'it's alright' in that bunch."
"Okay. And the white ivy thing?"
"Affection, anxious to please. Because you were."
"Fair enough. Onto the next. Freesia was innocence and trust, I remember. And a pink rose was secret love and indecision..?"
"Perfect happiness, secret love, grace and sweetness, indecision."
"And spearmint?"
"Warm sentiment."
"'Kay. Man, I didn't even ask what I was giving him this next time. Serves me right. Azalea?"
"That one would be taking care... no, take care, temperance, fragile, passion."
Geoff just shook his head. "Then dogwood and cedar."
"Cedar means think of me or I live but for thee." She overrode his muttering to say, "and dogwood means, am I indifferent to you?"
"Fortunately for all concerned, I'm not indifferent. But who knows what he got from that?"
"Ehm, on to today's?"
"Yeah. Love-in-a-mist... wait, I already wrote those down up here. You puzzle me and all that."
"Ah, yes. So. What would you like to say in today's message?"
"...Let me see that book."
:~:
At the sound of the latch, Jamie started and dropped the flower, then caught it again before it could even hit the table.
"Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up. Well, maybe just a little," Geoff grinned at him.
"You broke the pattern."
"I know."
"Two ways you broke the pattern. Two plants instead of three. Is this the last of it, then?"
"Maybe," Geoff said. He moved to the sink and drew a glass of water. "Want to put those in here?" When Jamie shook his head, Geoff downed the water himself.
"This one, I know this one. 'S a variegated tulip. But." He turned the leafy bit of branch over in his hands. "I don't know what this is."
Geoff swallowed a nervy flutter. "Jerusalem oak. None too common around here. I won't make you look it up. Means, well, it means. Means, your love is reciprocated."
"--reciprocated," Jamie spoke the final word in time with Geoff, who looked at him curiously. "And the tulip means beautiful eyes."
"You know them all by heart, don't you."
"Aye. That's what I do, Geoff." He stood there, staring down at his flower. "If we're not doing this anymore, I want to tell you: if I could, the next I'd give you would be hydrangea, lemon blossom, and, ehm. Dill," he said, and actually blushed.
"You better believe I'll be looking those up."
"And possibly a green rose," he said, suddenly smiling impishly. "Which means, I am from Mars."
"Seriously?" Geoff huffed a laugh. "Is there one that means 'I wouldn't have it any other way'?"
"Mm... winter daphane almost means that."
Jamie took a step, so Geoff did, too. They hesitated.
"My contact at the flower shop would love to meet you. I think she imagines you as some kind of fairy prince."
Jamie stuck his nose in his tulip. "Was that after the lemon grass?"
"Yeah, but not that kind of fairy prince. I'm talking about the last of the true romantics." Geoff leaned on a chair-back until it creaked, and watched Jamie stroking the petals of his flower, brushing it against his lips. "I should have been the one giving you purple hyacinths. Is there a flower that could tell you that I never should have said the things I said to you? I was so angry, so heartbroken, really, that you'd leave after having me promise not to."
"Yarrow," Jamie whispered.
"I didn't mean those things, and I'm sorry. I do get it, you know. Why you had to go. And I don't blame you. I just hope you can come back someday, to stay. Or I could go there. And there's the internet, you know; we shouldn't just not talk. I can't take that for four bloody months at a time."
"Hydrangeas again for you. Thank you for understanding."
"Red roses, for you, Jamie."
Just a tiny intake of breath, and Jamie was standing close, tipping his forehead down to rest against Geoff's shoulder. Geoff's hand went out to touch his waist, and then they were in each other's arms.
:~:
thornapple
I dreamed of thee
milk vetch
your presence softens my pain
fern frond
magic, fascination, confidence, shelter
hyacinth (purple)
sorry, please forgive me, sorrow
geranium (red)
true friend, stupidity, folly
wormwood
absence, do not be discouraged
apple blossom
preference, better things to come
jasmine (white)
amiability
white ivy sprig
affection, anxious to please
freesia
innocence, trust
rose (pink)
perfect happiness, secret love, grace
& sweetness, indecision
spearmint
warm sentiment
azalea
take care, temperance, fragile, passion
dogwood
am I indifferent to you?
cedar
think of me, I live but for thee
love-in-a-mist
you puzzle me
daffodil
the sun shines when I'm with you,
unrequited love
grass (lemon)
homosexual love
tulip (variegated)
beautiful eyes
Jerusalem oak
your love is reciprocated
hydrangea
thank you for understanding
lemon blossom
fidelity in love, I promise to be true
dill
lust
rose (green)
I am from Mars
daphane (winter)
I would not have you otherwise
yarrow
cure for heartache
rose (red)
I love you
:~
Author: vensre
Starring: Jamie/Geoff
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The way I can imagine is not the true Way.
Notes: Beta by ali_jayne. Any weirdness or mistakes are mine alone.
The six of cups is a tarot card, the meaning of which can be found here.
There is a prequel to this story ~ Nine Of Swords.
:~:
On the table in the morning there were flowers.
Geoff wasn't sure how Jamie had managed it, but it had to have been Jamie. He was here, after all - although he didn't seem to be right at the moment, and it was unusual for him to get up so early.
Not that Geoff could claim to know Jamie's habits anymore. He had been away for months now, withdrawn from uni and backed out of their lease to go back to his little room at the top of the Holmes Inn and do whatever it is that he does, on his own. He'd been in bad shape when he left; horribly down - hardly functional, really. Nothing Geoff had done to help had been enough in the end, and he truly wondered if he'd seen the last of his friend, retreating back to solitude as he was. But now Jamie was here, in Geoff's new flat, inexplicable as always. He'd come for his visit late yesterday, and startled Geoff by hugging the breath out of him as soon as he was in reach. They had a week to spend together. It looked as though Jamie intended to fill it with the maximum of oddness.
As to the manifestation of that oddness: well, it had happened once before. Only once, some two months before Jamie left. He had supposed it to be thanks for comforting Jamie after one of his night terrors. Those flowers had been on the table when he'd returned from class the next day, bound with a bit of twine same as these. These were types he recognised, though; the other ones, although vaguely familiar, he had not had names to put to. He had, however, made note of them in his journal at the time, which shouldn't be too hard to locate.
Geoff dug that up out of his things in only a few minutes, and laid it open next to the new bouquet to compare. Same twine. Same pattern, really: two types of flowers and a little branch of leaves. The note beside a rough sketch of the previous boquet of unnamed flowers reminded him that he had thanked Jamie that evening, but Jamie had just blinked at him.
If he thought of this phenomenon as a case, it had never been closed, and was certainly live now. So... current notebook, pen, his new digital camera - check. He recorded the new bouquet with a brief sketch to scale, a photo, and a list of the contents, since he recognised the flowers at least. Three stalks of purple hyacinth were bound to a single stem of geranium, accompanied by greenery of some sort. He outlined its leaf in his notebook, ran a copy of the old bouquet's page and stapled it in, and put his fresh flowers in a glass of water on the windowsill.
Geoff went over his investigatory options. Jamie hadn't answered his direct approach last time, so there was no reason to think he would this time. In fact, this felt distinctly like some sort of game. Since Jamie was out, he could nip over to the library and get a flower identification guide in an hour or less without being obvious about it.
Geoff was halfway to the library on his motorbike when a sign for cut flowers caught his eye. He turned around and pulled in, looking curiously through the windows. The place was open, and upon entering he found it very full of plants, so much so that any till or workstation there might be was hidden at first. But rounding a potted shrubbery, he located a window with a bit of counter at the bottom, and a silver bell sitting out. He rang it once, and waited.
Presently a short, dark woman who looked to be somewhere in her fifties appeared, gloved and muddy. She stuck her face out the little aperture. "Can I help ye?"
"Er, I hope so," said Geoff. "I was given some flowers, and I'm not sure what they are. Might you be able to identify them?"
"Let's have a look, then."
Geoff set his notes on the counter, and was relieved when she didn't pick them up, just leaned over, squinting at them. "Heh. Not a bad little doodle, there. I think I can tell ye. This," she pointed to the first bouquet, "is milk vetch. Tied with thornapple, and of course that's a fern. And the other, well... Looks like you know what hyacinth is, that's good. Geranium, aye. The greens are wormwood, by this leaf you've drawn." She looked up. "Will that be all?"
"Well." Geoff pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "I'm also not too sure... should I give flowers in return? I just don't know the etiquette of it."
"Eh, lad. I couldn't swear t' this, but it looks as though with this one here," she gestured to that morning's flowers, "Somebody's trying to apologise t' you."
"Really? How can you tell?"
"In the language o' the flowers, hyacinth of this colour means forgive me, unless I'm much mistaken. Purple, correct?"
"Yes. Language of the flowers? You mean like a red rose means love and a yellow one means just friends?"
"Close enough. 'Twas a Victorian practise, revelling in their repression and all that. I'd say giving flowers back is up t' you, now, but ye'd best tell her if she's forgiven."
"Erm. Okay..."
"Do you want to give something? If you want to say back that it's alright - or that it's not - I can put you something together."
"I suppose... yes. I would like to try. It's a kind of a code, isn't it."
"It certainly is! Now. What are you wanting to say?"
"That it's alright. That there's nothing to apologise for. Can you do that?"
"Of course we can! Let me get my book down."
A quarter-hour later, Geoff was riding home with a carefully shielded little clutch of flowers: white jasmine with apple blossoms and a sprig of white ivy tendrils, which disappeared from the table that afternoon after Jamie came back to the flat.
Jamie and Geoff had lunch. They played video games. They had a walk out to the river, and a nap in the den, and a late dinner of cold pizza. Geoff tried not to think about the flowers. He tried not to hope there would be more tomorrow.
:~:
Geoff burst into the shop, stuck his head through the little window, and called, "What does a pink rose mean!"
"All right, hold yer horses," said the proprietress, coming out of the greenhouse. "What, now?"
"A pink rose! There's a pink rose here, what does it mean?"
"Oh, you brought it this time. And freesia! That's a pleasant little workup. Let me get the book down, lad, and we'll check it out for ye."
Geoff tried not to squirm while she was paging through the book, or snap when she looked up freesia first.
"Says here freesia could mean innocence or trust. That's sweet. All is forgiven, then?"
"Sure, whatever, and the rose?"
"Pink rose, pink rose... Here it is. Rose, pink. Could mean any of the following: perfect happiness, secret love, grace and sweetness, indecision. Sounding familiar to you?"
Geoff was completely befuddled. "Well... Indecision, maybe? But what does that mean?"
She smiled a little. "Are you sure she mightn't mean secret love? Or she may be perfectly happy the way it is now."
"Well. I don't... I have no idea. I suppose. Well. I want to answer, 'cause I don't think I'll get any more flowers unless I give more, but..."
"What to say? Well, I can help y' out, if ye like."
"Yes. Please. Thank you for all your help so far, too."
"Oh, it's not a trouble! Just promise you'll tell me how it all turns out!"
"If you like. I don't think it's going to be anything special, really." Geoff smiled, distinctly reminded of Hetty.
She shrugged. "My interest is piqued, is all. Now, what're the qualities of our mysterious flower-giver, do you know?"
"Yeah. Let's see. Very innocent and intelligent. A loyal friend, with many talents. Recently quite ill."
"I'm sorry t' hear that. Hmm. What would you judge her best feature to be?"
"Physical feature?" Geoff nibbled on a bit of the spearmint leaf bound into his bouquet. "Eyes, probably. Or hands."
"I think azalea, for taking care. And dogwood blossom. And some cedar ornament, that would be lovely if you prefer to keep to the pattern of a group of three."
"Um, all right."
"Seven pounds, please," she said, binding the flowers with a white ribbon. Geoff blinked numbly and handed over the cash.
:~:
"Hello?"
"I'm right here, no need to shout. And the name's Marcie, not 'hey you'."
"Marcie. I'm Geoff."
"I know. Saw yer notebook. Got another bit of code for us today?"
"Yeah..."
"You don't seem so excited. Something going wrong?"
"Just. Well, have a look."
Marcie picked up the note attached to today's bouquet. "I think we're using different books. -J. Ah, some sort of misunderstanding?"
"I don't know if I should keep doing this. I haven't a clue what kind of messages I'm sending, not really."
"What have we got, there, a daffodil, and... I'm not sure I know this one. Let me get my identifier."
Geoff waited uncomfortably while she shuffled her papers about, and eventually was rewarded with a glossy photo in her identifier of his same flowers, growing wild.
"That's love-in-a-mist." She flipped to the L section in the flower language handbook. And it means, you puzzle me."
"Oh."
"Don't be so downcast, boy! Let's look at the daffodil, then we can see what our greenery means."
"You mean, the greens have meanings, too?"
"Oh, yes! Just a moment. Hm. Daffodil." She glanced up at his face before continuing. "Means the sun shines when I'm with you. Or it could have the connotation of unrequited love... My. Is it her love that's unrequited?" She asked gently. "Or yours?"
"I... don't know. I really don't know."
"Mmkay, let's see here." She sniffed at the sleek greens, and her eyes widened. "Lemon grass?" She flipped a few pages, and looked at the book owlishly, but didn't show Geoff. "Ah, well, isn't that something else."
"What?"
Marcie raised her eyebrows at him. "Just tell me if I'm right: it's not a lass at all. It's a lad, giving you these flowers."
"Uhhhhhh." Geoff felt his cheeks heating up at being so blatantly caught out. He rubbed his face, grimacing. "How can you know that?"
"So! It was either that 'J' was a lad, or that she didn't fancy you after all. Seeing as lemon grass means - well, have a look." She turned it around for him and pointed to the words homosexual love.
"Ahahah. Er."
"No need t' be bashful about it, boy. Let's get this sorted, shall we? Pull those crates over here and have a seat."
Geoff did, and pulled himself together while he was at it. "I don't know how to verify if we're using the same book except asking outright, which seems to be off limits. Maybe if we go through from the beginning and list the meanings of everything, this will make more sense."
"It's worth a go. This is the only book of it I've got, but. Maybe the library?"
"I don't know, I can look. In the meantime, though. Okay." He tore a fresh sheet out of his notebook to make a table, then flipped back to the page with the earliest flowers. "First... thornapple, milk vetch, and fern? That must've been six months ago."
Marcie flipped through her book. "Thornapple. Means, I dreamed of thee. That's lovely."
Geoff recorded that in the table. "Makes sense, too. He was having nightmares." He shrugged when she wrinkled her brow at that.
"What was the next?"
"Milk vetch. Then fern."
"Milk vetch means: Your presence softens my pain." She didn't comment, but it was pretty clear she was forming the idea of a tragic, romantic prince-type character (though such a generalisation could hardly do Jamie justice, to Geoff's way of thinking). "And fern? Magic, fascination, confidence, shelter. Any or all of those."
"Thank you," Geoff said, scribbling to keep up.
"Not a problem. Now, the second batch was hyacinth, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, and geranium, and wormwood."
"Purple hyacinth... sorry, please forgive me, or sorrow. Geranium.... Don't look so tormented, it'll be alright."
"When he got ill, he had to stop uni and move back to his hometown. Left me with a two-person flat to look after and some of his things to remind me that my best friend had bailed on me. I said some things then I never should have said."
"But you've forgiven him that now, and he's certainly forgiven you, considering he leaves you flowers every day! Best not to dwell on what can't be changed."
Geoff sighed. "Right. Er, geraniums?"
"True friend, stupidity, folly. On a similar track."
"Yep. And wormwood?"
"Absence. Do not be discouraged. See? He's missing you, the poor thing."
"Not at the moment, he's not. He's taking up my sofa this week. So, what about the ones I gave him in return? Apple blossom..?"
"That one was better things to come, if I recall." Marcie flipped the pages some more. "Oh, and also preference."
"Preference?"
"Aye. What was next?"
"What does 'preference' even mean?"
"I couldn't say. Now, what was next?"
Geoff scowled. "White jasmine. This is kind of important to me, you know? I can't believe I gave him those flowers when even you don't know what they mean. How could he possibly get a message from that?"
"Let it go for now." She paused, staring at the book, then sighed. "All right, today's flowers are on the house."
He blinked. "Oh. Well, thank you."
"Moving along! Jasmine, of the white variety, means amiability. That's the 'it's alright' in that bunch."
"Okay. And the white ivy thing?"
"Affection, anxious to please. Because you were."
"Fair enough. Onto the next. Freesia was innocence and trust, I remember. And a pink rose was secret love and indecision..?"
"Perfect happiness, secret love, grace and sweetness, indecision."
"And spearmint?"
"Warm sentiment."
"'Kay. Man, I didn't even ask what I was giving him this next time. Serves me right. Azalea?"
"That one would be taking care... no, take care, temperance, fragile, passion."
Geoff just shook his head. "Then dogwood and cedar."
"Cedar means think of me or I live but for thee." She overrode his muttering to say, "and dogwood means, am I indifferent to you?"
"Fortunately for all concerned, I'm not indifferent. But who knows what he got from that?"
"Ehm, on to today's?"
"Yeah. Love-in-a-mist... wait, I already wrote those down up here. You puzzle me and all that."
"Ah, yes. So. What would you like to say in today's message?"
"...Let me see that book."
:~:
At the sound of the latch, Jamie started and dropped the flower, then caught it again before it could even hit the table.
"Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up. Well, maybe just a little," Geoff grinned at him.
"You broke the pattern."
"I know."
"Two ways you broke the pattern. Two plants instead of three. Is this the last of it, then?"
"Maybe," Geoff said. He moved to the sink and drew a glass of water. "Want to put those in here?" When Jamie shook his head, Geoff downed the water himself.
"This one, I know this one. 'S a variegated tulip. But." He turned the leafy bit of branch over in his hands. "I don't know what this is."
Geoff swallowed a nervy flutter. "Jerusalem oak. None too common around here. I won't make you look it up. Means, well, it means. Means, your love is reciprocated."
"--reciprocated," Jamie spoke the final word in time with Geoff, who looked at him curiously. "And the tulip means beautiful eyes."
"You know them all by heart, don't you."
"Aye. That's what I do, Geoff." He stood there, staring down at his flower. "If we're not doing this anymore, I want to tell you: if I could, the next I'd give you would be hydrangea, lemon blossom, and, ehm. Dill," he said, and actually blushed.
"You better believe I'll be looking those up."
"And possibly a green rose," he said, suddenly smiling impishly. "Which means, I am from Mars."
"Seriously?" Geoff huffed a laugh. "Is there one that means 'I wouldn't have it any other way'?"
"Mm... winter daphane almost means that."
Jamie took a step, so Geoff did, too. They hesitated.
"My contact at the flower shop would love to meet you. I think she imagines you as some kind of fairy prince."
Jamie stuck his nose in his tulip. "Was that after the lemon grass?"
"Yeah, but not that kind of fairy prince. I'm talking about the last of the true romantics." Geoff leaned on a chair-back until it creaked, and watched Jamie stroking the petals of his flower, brushing it against his lips. "I should have been the one giving you purple hyacinths. Is there a flower that could tell you that I never should have said the things I said to you? I was so angry, so heartbroken, really, that you'd leave after having me promise not to."
"Yarrow," Jamie whispered.
"I didn't mean those things, and I'm sorry. I do get it, you know. Why you had to go. And I don't blame you. I just hope you can come back someday, to stay. Or I could go there. And there's the internet, you know; we shouldn't just not talk. I can't take that for four bloody months at a time."
"Hydrangeas again for you. Thank you for understanding."
"Red roses, for you, Jamie."
Just a tiny intake of breath, and Jamie was standing close, tipping his forehead down to rest against Geoff's shoulder. Geoff's hand went out to touch his waist, and then they were in each other's arms.
:~:
thornapple
I dreamed of thee
milk vetch
your presence softens my pain
fern frond
magic, fascination, confidence, shelter
hyacinth (purple)
sorry, please forgive me, sorrow
geranium (red)
true friend, stupidity, folly
wormwood
absence, do not be discouraged
apple blossom
preference, better things to come
jasmine (white)
amiability
white ivy sprig
affection, anxious to please
freesia
innocence, trust
rose (pink)
perfect happiness, secret love, grace
& sweetness, indecision
spearmint
warm sentiment
azalea
take care, temperance, fragile, passion
dogwood
am I indifferent to you?
cedar
think of me, I live but for thee
love-in-a-mist
you puzzle me
daffodil
the sun shines when I'm with you,
unrequited love
grass (lemon)
homosexual love
tulip (variegated)
beautiful eyes
Jerusalem oak
your love is reciprocated
hydrangea
thank you for understanding
lemon blossom
fidelity in love, I promise to be true
dill
lust
rose (green)
I am from Mars
daphane (winter)
I would not have you otherwise
yarrow
cure for heartache
rose (red)
I love you
:~