Sunflowers in Bloom

"Nate," she said in a voice thick with tears. "You gave me a heartbeat."

The watch ticked on her chest, dead-center where her real heart would have beat. The very thing that she had been most self-conscious of, the thing she had pretended hadn't mattered to her, but had actually mattered quite a lot, was now hers again. A heartbeat.

There wasn't a dry eye in the room.

Nate met Chester on a frigid late-autumn day in town.

"Oh, hell. Stop following me," Nate muttered, stepping around the old tomcat that had begun following him.

It was quite big for a cat, though most of its mass might just have been exaggerated by the fluffy orange fur that covered its body. It had a limp on one leg, but otherwise appeared to be in good health. Its bottle-brush bushy tail pointed up as it followed Nate home, even as he tried to shoo it away. It only mewled innocently and brushed up against the shopping bags that hung low in Nate's hands.

Lizzie was standing by the door to let him in, a steaming cup of tea in hand. Nate laid the bags by the door and took the cup with a grateful smile. He'd near-frozen half to death.

"Ooh, who's this?" she asked, bending to take a good look at the cat. The old tomcat had followed Nate all the way home and had now snuck its way inside to charm Lizzie.

"I've no idea," Nate said, gulping down a scalding sip of tea. "Couldn't shake him. He followed me in all the way from town."

"Suppose he was looking for a family?" She reached out to pet the cat but her hand ghosted right through him. She frowned but perked up considerably when the cat purred, pleased by her attention.

"Absolutely not, Liz," Nate said, catching the dreamy look in her eyes. "No."

"Oh, c'mon. Have a heart, Nate."

"Cats are—they're filthy. And I'm allergic."

"You are not," she said, shutting the door behind them to keep out the cold. "And cats are very clean. They groom themselves all day."

"I've already said no."

"Alfie's got Queenie. Can't we have a cat too?" she said pleadingly. "It'd be nice to have some company."

Nate shook his head and handed her the half-empty cup.

"You are the company," he said and picked up the bags to take into the kitchen. "That's about all I can handle."

Lizzie and the cat both trailed after him.

"We can't very well cast him out," she said, pouting. "It's awfully cold out there."

"Save the bleeding heart for another cause," Nate said. "Beg all you want. He's not staying."

"Oh, but Chester'll be no problem at all," she insisted. "You'll hardly notice he's here."

"Chester?"

"A fitting name, I think," she said, looking down lovingly at the cat. It purred and tried brushing up against her legs.

"Christ, Liz," he muttered. He glanced out the kitchen window and grimaced. She was right. It was awfully cold out there.

"One night," he said in his sternest tone.

Lizzie squealed.

"One night," he repeated, but she hadn't heard him; she was already busy digging through the pantry to find something to feed Chester.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" he said with a heavy sigh.

The cold didn't let up, but that was no surprise as they were fast approaching winter. Nate's plans to allow Chester to stay one night kept getting extended, one night turning into a few nights, and then a few nights turning into a few weeks. He kept telling himself that he'd cast the cat out once the weather warmed a bit, but it didn't look as if that would be happening anytime soon.

"We need more decorations," Lizzie said, hanging baubles up on the Christmas tree. She'd spent the last week wrapping sprigs of red berries on bits of twine and making arrangements of winter flowers to decorate the home. Nate was certain that after the holiday he'd never want to see another Christmas rose again in his life.

"Haven't we got enough?" he said, gesturing to the lounge. She'd hung up twinkling fairy lights, arranged all too many bloody Christmas roses on every surface, and had settled some god-awful glittering handcrafted paper snowflakes and snowmen on the mantel that she'd constructed with a giggling and drunken Ezra the week before.

"No, I meant for the tree," she said. "It looks a bit bare."

Nate squinted his eyes, trying to see if he'd missed something. The tree looked fine to him. He was about to say so, but the hopeful look in her eyes stopped him.

"All right, what d'you need?" he said, thinking it best to humour her. After all, how long had it been since she'd last celebrated a proper Christmas? It hurt to think about so he pushed the thought out of his mind almost immediately.

"I think some of those fake pears would go nicely with a few pinecones. I could paint them with glue and the silver glitter. A few more red baubles would complement it so well. And I do think it'd be nice to have a wreath to hang on the door. Could you bring one? I'd like to decorate it myself so do make sure it's a plain one. Oh, and a star for the tree. Or would an angel be better? No, a star, I think. Oh dear, I'm asking for far too much, aren't I?"

Chester chose that moment to rub up against Nate's legs. He absently scratched him behind the ears. Nate didn't think he'd ever be able to deny that girl a thing. Hell, the bloody cat was still in the house, living quite comfortably off expensive bags of specialty food made for elderly cats.

"Not at all," he said, giving Lizzie a reassuring smile. "I'll pop into town with Ezra when he comes by tomorrow."

After a few hours, Lizzie came and plopped down on the floor beside Nate's feet, leaning back against the settee. Her head lolled back on the seat and she stared right up at his face.

"So grey," she mused.

"Sorry?" Nate put down the copy of his manuscript and the pen he'd been using to make corrections.

"Your eyes," she said. "I've never seen anyone with such grey eyes. Like storm clouds."

Nate shrugged, feeling his face grow hot. "Got them from my grandad on my mum's side."

"You're quite beautiful, you know," she said. "Oh, stop blushing. It's only the truth."

Nate looked down at her face, taking in her delicate bone structure, twinkling blue eyes, lush pink lips, and long silver-white hair, and thought that he'd never seen anything so lovely in his life. Her skin looked moon-kissed, glowing from the roaring fire and fairy lights. There was immense kindness in her eyes, holding such warmth that he thought there was no need for fairytales. One look at her and it'd be enough to capture all the wonders of the imagination.

"I love you."

He'd been meaning to say the words for a long time. It had taken no courage, no planning. There was nothing to fear with Lizzie.

"I know," she said softly. "You have for some time, haven't you?"

"I reckon you figured it out before I did. You know me too well."

"Yes, Nate. I do."

This would have been the time to kiss her. God how he wanted to kiss her.

"I hope I'm making myself clear," he said, his chest aching. "I'm in love with you."

Lizzie was crying, now, but he couldn't tell if it was because she was sad or if it was because she was happy.

"I knew that, too," she said, wiping tears away with the back of her hand.

"How can it hurt so much to love a person?" he asked. The anguish was heavy in his tone, bleeding through every word, every breath.

"It doesn't hurt to love," she told him with trembling lips.

Tears slipped from the corners of Nate's eyes.

"Then what is it?" he asked, feeling his throat begin to close up. "What is it that's causing this pain?"

"Yearning."

Nate didn't bother wiping his tears anymore. He couldn't stop crying.

He knew what she meant. To yearn for her was the most painful thing he'd ever experienced. There was so much he wanted, so much that couldn't be solved with love alone. Loving her wouldn't bring her back to life.

The fire crackled as they sat there, silent as they looked into it, their eyes blazing. Chester settled onto Nate's lap at some point, sensing his sadness, and the gesture touched Nate so deeply that he decided there would be no casting out that cat. Lizzie had been right, there really was nothing wrong in having some company. With Chester in the house, it had begun to feel like they had become a family.

"You love him, too, don't you?" Lizzie said, smiling.

Nate grinned sheepishly.

"I suppose I do, yeah."

"I knew you would."

"Well, you do know everything."

"And don't you forget it."

"I don't think you'll let me, anyhow."

Lizzie inched closer and tried to lean her head against his knee, peering up at him with eyes that glittered like the night sky. He wished so much that he could feel her head, to feel just how much that crazy brain of hers weighed.

"I'm in love with you, too, Nate."

"I know."

And he had known. Of all the things he didn't know, of all the things that confused him and shrouded his life in mystery, this was one thing he had known.

He'd known it all along.

"Take me to bed, Nate," Lizzie said, looking up from where she was sat on the floor, her arms hugging her knees. Her eyes were wide and hopeful, waiting for his reaction. They'd never slept beside each other. She left him alone at night, granting him the privacy that she denied him during the day. Lizzie sometimes got weak and tired, and in those times, she would sleep during the day while Nate worked, writing by hand instead of typewriter so as not to disturb her. He'd watch her sleep, glancing at her, at the way her stardust-white hair splayed out on the pillow, the blanket covering her lithe body.

"Sure," Nate said, getting to his feet from the settee. Lizzie smiled and got up, dusting off her bellbottoms, the pants that Alfie had gifted her only the other day. She loved them and wore them almost every day. They were high waisted, and mustard yellow in color, flaring at the knees. She paired the pants with her floral shirts.

Lizzie led the way up the stairs, and for about the millionth time, Nate tried not to stare. Shame filled him each time.

"Come, Nate," Lizzie said softly, opening the bedroom door. "Let me show you something."

Nate obeyed, trailing in after her. Lizzie turned and reached around him to close the door. Her arm grazed his, but neither of them could feel it. They froze, staring at each other, pausing.

"Kiss me, Nate."

He didn't hesitate, didn't even think, just lowered his head, eyes open, and kissed where her lips were. It was a gentle kiss, one that she could probably feel if she imagined it deeply enough. She blinked slowly, watching him in wonderment, smiling so beautifully that Nate almost lost his balance. She was an ethereal beauty, an angel that had been sent to save him from himself, from all his insecurities, from his loneliness, from his brooding mind, from all the things that only a kind-hearted spirit like Lizzie could protect him from.

"What-what were you going to show me?" Nate asked, gulping down his nerves. This night had quickly taken a turn into the unknown.

"This."

Lizzie lifted her shirt, taking it off of her body. Nate was so surprised that he winced, like he was a bad boy for looking, a filthy, perverted man. But Lizzie had wanted him to see, hadn't she? So he looked. He looked at everything, her smooth skin, her lacy white bra, her tiny navel, until his eyes fell upon a deep scar on her stomach. He sucked in a breath.

"Is that—"

"Yes," Lizzie said. "That's how I died."

"Christ," Nate said, taking a step back in disbelief. His head hit the door behind him, but he didn't feel it. All he felt was despair.

"Sixteen years ago, my father, a drunkard, murdered me and my sister in the cellar. He used a knife. Stabbed us."

Nate slumped against the door, slid down to the floor and put his face in his hands, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. No, he thought. Not my Lizzie.

"But why, Liz?" he asked. "Why would anyone do such a thing?"

Lizzie looked sadly down at him and said, "Who knows why bad people do the things they do?"

"And your sister," he said shakily. "What happened to her?"

"Anne crossed the property line. I never saw her again."

Nate looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "She was—she was like you?"

"Dead and alive in spirit?" Lizzie asked. "Yes, she was like me. Her body was removed by the church and buried there in the cemetery. Mine was too, and I'm sure there was a lovely service. We never got to see it. We were here, hiding in the attic. Our father was jailed for his crimes, and when he came home after serving his sentence, we haunted him, chucked things at him, scared him off."

Nate now understood why Lizzie had kept this from him for so long. It was a lot to take in, and it was brutal on his heart, making it ache and ache. More than ever, he wished he could hold her, take her in his arms and stroke her hair, kiss the top of her head, and give comfort in the warmth of his body. He loved her, he loved her so very, very much. And he hadn't been able to protect her, not from this.

"Liz," he said as tears streamed down his face. "I love you. I would've—Liz, I would've died for you. Hell, I'd die for you now."

"You will not," Liz said sharply. "Don't even think about it, Nathan Alaric Chapman."

"But we could be together."

"We are together."

"Forever," Nate said, wiping away his tears. "I'm speaking of forever."

"I will forever be with you, Nate. Wherever life takes you, wherever you go in this world, my heart that does not beat will go with you."

"I'm never leaving you," Nate said, exasperated. He got up from the floor and stalked up to her, and she took a tentative step back, surprised. Lizzie looked up at him, her face determined.

"I'll cross the property line."

"You wouldn't."

Her eyes flashed. "I most certainly would," she said challengingly. "I'm not allowing you to condemn yourself to this life. I would sooner disappear into nothingness."

Nate softened. "So you'd die for me, too."

"Yes, because I love you, Nate!" Lizzie said, raising her voice. "I love you and I'd rather die for good than let you kill yourself!"

"Calm down, Liz. Please."

"No, I won't calm down! I won't! Not until you've promised me."

"Promised what? That I won't die? I have no control of that."

"Oh, yes you do! You will not die on me, Nathan."

"Can you please stop calling me that?"

"It's your bloody name!"

And so they argued for the rest of the night, back and forth, with Lizzie speaking in a raised voice, and Nate coldly explaining his position. All he wanted was to be with her. Why didn't she understand that?

In the early hours of the morning, Nate fell exhausted into his bed, and rolled over, making room. Lizzie lay beside him, crossing her arms, fuming in silence.

"I love you," Nate reminded her.

"I know," she said grumpily. "I love you, too."

In the years that passed, Nate finished his novel, an action-packed fantasy about a young man who found his way through the universe, guided by an angel. It would be a lie to say there weren't some of him and Lizzie in there. The book was published, and did extremely well, with copies sold internationally. With tidy earnings, Nate was able to purchase the cottage.

On a balmy, purposeless spring weekend in 1970, Nate and Lizzie were married by Alfie, who had become ordained for the occasion. Ezra was the sole groomsman, and Chester, who had died peacefully in his sleep on the front porch the year before, was in attendance, brushing up against Lizzie's legs as she recited her vows. She picked up a purring Chester as Alfie pronounced Lizzie and Nate man and wife. Nate had looked into her eyes, seeing his own entire universe there, his angel, who he'd follow anywhere. He kissed where her lips were, grinning when he pulled back. It was the best day of his life.

Nate aged with time, looking older as the years ticked by, but Lizzie did not mind. They slept beside each other every night, and Lizzie would sit through all of his meals with him. Every birthday of hers was celebrated with plastic sunflowers, with a party thrown by her perpetual boys. Lizzie would pass the time by reading books, caring for the garden, petting Chester, and using a fork to brush through her husband's hair to bother him. He never did seem to mind.

Before they knew it, Nate was an old man.

Lizzie watched silently as Nate slowly tried to insert the key with his tremulous hands. Eventually opening the door to the shed, he hunted for the small ladder, his eyes not serving him well in the small shadow-ridden building. With a firm grip that belied his age, he pulled it out and dragged it to the front of their home.

Years before, he'd paid the son of a distant neighbor to tack up the runners that held the stringed lights that Lizzie loved so much. Going inside, he grabbed the cardboard box with their Christmas decorations and carried it back out. Pulling out a roll of red and green lights, he thrust his arms through it and rested the roll on his shoulder as he grabbed the ladder again and stepped towards the shingles near the door.

Carefully avoiding the remnants of her flowers in the cold earth, he lifted the ladder and leaned it against the house. Nate climbed slowly and carefully fed the lights through the small runners that led along and over the doorway. Climbing back down, he grabbed the ladder and moved it to the other side of the door, again being careful to avoid where Lizzie's plants awaited the spring.

One foot raised to step on the ladder, he paused. Trying again, he paused. Lizzie knew that he would want her to tell him that the lights were centered. Year after year, he strung them for her, and year after year she would watch from near the road at the edge of the boundary. Seeing him pause, she was suddenly at his side.

"Nate?"

She watched him blink rapidly, smile and then grimace. He lifted his foot again, put it on the first step and leaned forward onto the ladder.

"Nate?"

His leaning turned into an embrace as he clung to the wood and metal. Turning to his love, his lips trembled as he spoke. "Lizzie... Lizzie, I..."

Nate slipped to the cold ground.

It wasn't gradual. She didn't have to watch him die. He was gone as soon as he fell. A piece of Lizzie broke and she felt as if his passing was her own second death. She fell to her knees and mourned, trying to hold her love and raged at the cold that seeped into his body. She had no idea how long she knelt there. It could have been an hour or days. She waited for him, but he did not wake.

Lizzie took hold of her most precious gift, the watch Nate had given her, her heartbeat for the nearly 50 years that they had spent together, kissed it and lowered it to his chest. She then kissed his cheek and stood. She had promised to cross the property line after his death.

As she moved towards the gate that lay on the edge of their property, she felt herself become lighter, more than insubstantial. The gate was brighter than she remembered and it slowly swung open as she neared. As she approached, she remembered times from before her death. She remembered holidays with her family, she remembered long-forgotten dreams for a future she never had and she remembered Nate; the love of her life.

Staring at the grass before she took the final step, she wiped her eyes and looked ahead at what lay next. About to move forward, Lizzie felt a tug on her hand.

Turning, she stood before him. He looked at her with that lopsided smile and love in his eyes, looking exactly as he did the night he'd first entered the cottage. The hand holding hers also held the watch, both of their palms feeling its warmth. His other hand wrapped the watch's chain around their intertwined hands and they slowly turned back towards their home.