As the Flower Blooms Episode 15: The Rose Beyond the Glass

“Sister?”

Rose’s whisper barely reached the window.

Outside, the crimson bloom shifted into the light. Rain clung to her petals. A narrow ivory streak curved along one edge, as delicate as a brushstroke.

Rose knew that mark.

For years, she had tried to forget it.

“Ruby.”

Behind her, the Hydrangeas trembled.

“She has a sister?” whispered Blue.

“Apparently.”

“Did you know?”

“If I knew, I would have told you quietly three episodes ago.”

Daisy leaned toward the glass.

“That’s the rose I carried back.”

Ruby’s eyes softened.

“Yes,” she said. “You held the basket so tightly I thought you might snap the handle.”

“I thought you were a delivery.”

“I was.”

Ruby glanced at Rose.

“Just not the one you were told about.”

White Rose moved toward the window latch.

“Let her inside.”

Rose turned sharply.

“You knew she was alive?”

“I knew there was a chance.”

“How long?”

White Rose hesitated.

That was answer enough.

Peony lowered her blush petals.

“Does anyone in this room ever tell the whole truth the first time?”

“For once,” murmured Lily, “an excellent question.”

White Rose opened the window.

A gust stirred the papers on the walnut worktable. The lavender ribbon slipped across the old transfer receipt, catching on the silver daisy charm.

Ruby entered slowly.

Camellia watched her with an expression Daisy couldn’t read.

Then Ruby saw her.

“You made it,” Ruby said.

Camellia’s petals tightened.

“So did you.”

Rose studied her sister’s rain-darkened petals.

“I went back to the east bed. There was nothing left. The marker was gone. Your place was empty.”

“I know.”

“They told me everything had been cleared.”

“I know that, too.”

“Then why didn’t you come home?”

Ruby looked down.

“Because the first message I received told me you had sent me away.”

The studio fell silent.

Rose’s expression changed.

“I never sent that message.”

Ruby lifted her eyes.

“Then we should probably discuss who did.”

Blue Hydrangea leaned toward Lavender.

“I would like to be somewhere with fewer revelations.”

“You’re in the same vase as me.”

“Yes. That has become inconvenient.”

Daisy stared at the transfer receipt.

“Wait. If I brought Ruby back in the basket…”

“You did,” Ruby said.

“Then why did I sign ‘Received on behalf of the keeper’?”

“Because you were collecting something before you collected me.”

Daisy looked toward the keepsake box.

“The box?”

Ruby shook her head.

“The records.”

Lily’s gaze moved to the ledger.

Daisy remembered the lantern again. Rain striking the path. The covered basket resting beneath a bench.

And someone saying:

Don’t let the papers get wet.

“I put them underneath you,” Daisy whispered.

“Under the lining,” Ruby said. “You said nobody would search beneath a rose.”

Daisy blinked.

“That does sound like something I would say.”

“It was a very good plan,” Ruby replied.

“For approximately how long?”

“Until someone changed the basket.”

Camellia drew closer.

“Changed it where?”

“At the gate.”

White Rose’s satin ribbon brushed the table.

“I was at the gate.”

Ruby nodded.

“I remember.”

“I never saw you.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

Rose looked between them.

“Who was supposed to collect the basket?”

Ruby’s gaze settled on the ledger.

“The keeper.”

For a moment, only the rain spoke.

Then Peony interrupted.

“We keep saying that as though it explains something. Keeper of what?”

Ruby looked at her carefully.

“The east garden. Its records. Every division sent away. Every flower placed somewhere new.”

Peony glanced at the photograph of the blush peonies.

“Including mine?”

“Including yours.”

“Then those records could tell me where the others are.”

“Yes.”

For the first time that evening, Peony lifted her head.

“Then let’s find them.”

Daisy drew the silver charm toward her.

Its tiny missing petal tip caught against the ribbon.

Ruby went still.

“Where did you get that?”

“Mother’s keepsake box,” Daisy said. “Under the lining.”

Ruby leaned closer.

“Turn it over.”

“We’ve already looked at the back.”

“Look again. Beside the broken petal.”

Lily angled the desk lamp.

There, nearly hidden beneath years of tarnish, was a narrow seam.

Daisy’s mouth fell open.

“It opens?”

“With the missing piece,” Ruby said.

Blue Hydrangea sighed.

“Of course the jewelry has secrets.”

Rose looked toward the old cabinet.

“The missing piece must be in the box.”

“No,” Ruby said.

Camellia had stopped moving.

Slowly, she loosened the weathered lavender ribbon she had carried into the studio.

Something silver slipped from its fold and landed on the walnut table.

A tiny petal tip.

Daisy stared.

“You had it?”

Camellia kept her eyes on Ruby.

“I was told to keep it safe.”

“By whom?” Rose asked.

Before Camellia could answer, Lily nudged the silver piece into the charm.

A soft click.

The back sprang open.

Inside lay a tightly folded scrap of paper.

Daisy eased it free.

Nobody whispered now.

She unfolded it once.

Then again.

Her eyes traveled across the faded handwriting.

“What does it say?” Peony asked.

Daisy looked up at Camellia.

“It says…”

Her voice caught.

“‘If the keeper returns, do not let her open the east gate.’”

Camellia closed her eyes.

Across the room, the latch on the old cabinet clicked.

From inside came three slow knocks.

To be continued…

Next episode: “The Keeper of the East Gate.”

Fresh flowers. Old secrets. And a charm that should have stayed closed.

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