A Coincidence in the Rose Garden (3)

Antonio's gaze moved from Anna's clear eyes to the corners of her smiling mouth. He stared at her intently for a moment and then said thoughtfully, "Anna, that's a lovely name, choose me some good roses. ..."

Anna was flustered and blurted out, "I wonder if the fine roses the Count refers to are ... those that bloom brightly? Or is it a budding one?"

When Antonio was asked this question by Anna, for some reason, a light smile appeared on his lips. He said softly, "It's up to you, what you think is beautiful is good."

Anna looked at the garden of thousands of roses, their pink stamens showing off their beauty in a variety of ways. For a moment she didn't know which one to choose. Anna took a deep breath, settled down and picked them with her hands. Some of them were budding, some were only half open, others were already in full bloom. As she picked, Anna cut the roses short at different heights and placed them in different directions. In no time at all, a beautiful bouquet of about 20 roses was in front of Antonio's face. Anna smiled and asked, "Do you think this will do, Count?"

Antonio was looking at Anna as she picked the roses for the bouquet. He was still staring at Anna as she handed her roses to him, he looked at them and said in awe, "Good work." He looked at Anna again and said softly, "Do you like roses?"

Without hesitation, Anna replied, "Of course I do, as they are so beautiful."

Antonio took the roses and simply pulled a budding flower out of Anna's freshly made bouquet and handed it to her. "If you like roses, this one is for you. ..."

Anna didn't know what to do, she didn't know whether to take it or not. Antonio took Anna's hand, put the rose in her hand and squeezed her whole hand in his. Saying, "Flowers match beauty, this rose looks like you, please take it ..."

Anna really panicked when her small, white hand was squeezed by his big hand. She thought that a man as cold as he looked would have cold skin, but she didn't expect his hands to be so warm.

Anna thought this and looked at him. He looked at Anna and there seemed to be a meaningful smile at the corner of his mouth. Anna was momentarily mesmerised by his smile. For a second, she was frozen in place.

Sister Mary, who was not far from Anna, took it all in. She reminded Anna: "Why don't you thank the Count? ..."

Anna looked at the rose in her hand and said, "Thank you, Your Excellency. ..." Anna's face was as red as the rose in her hand.

...

The rose garden continued to bloom from time to time as the days of picking roses passed. But as there were no more flowers to be picked after the first mass picking, the gardener was left to do the rest of the work alone.

So life in the monastery went back to the way it used to be for Anna. Praying twice a day, morning and evening prayers, meant dullness and tedium for Anna. But the days were still to be lived.

But what was strange to Anna was that even though the wound on her index finger, which had been pricked by a rose, was gradually healing, she would still stare at it from time to time. As she watched it, she recalled the young man called Alexandre who she had met in the rose garden, the one who had taken the liberty of putting his index finger in his mouth. For a few moments, Anna was at a loss for words. After all, it was the first time in her life that she had ever been so close to a young man. Whenever Anna remembered that detail, her index finger, her face seemed to burn, sometimes with a sweet, shy smile on her face. ...

One day a nun said to Sister Mary, who had just gone to bring food to the gardener in charge of the rose garden, "The Mother Superior wants to see you urgently and wants you to come over as soon as possible."

So Sister Mary gave Anna the job of delivering the food. She told her, "Come back as soon as you can and don't play around."

It had been a long time since I had seen the old gardener and I wondered how he was feeling. Anna walked happily towards the rose garden with her basket, wishing that the old gardener had spent a minute or two telling her a joke or a short story like he used to, or else she could borrow a new book and read it.