Flowers are like your friends, they add color to your life.
                            —Unknown

 A ball of yellow light peeked behind the white clouds. It cast golden streaks on the surface of the earth. 

The gushing of water filled the air as Paloma went about tending to the potted plants and herbs that filled her garden. Their different hues entwined formed a breathtaking myriad. 

She hummed the hymn "Oh happy day" as she moved from plant to plant with her metal watering can. Her eyes gleamed with recognition when she reached each plant. 

From the age of ten, she could identify the seedlings of many plants. As a little girl, her favorite subject in primary school was science and when she graduated to high school, it became Agriculture science and it remained that way until college. 

From one plant to the other, the water trickled out through the spout and roamed down the leaves. At last, she reached the last plant in the row—her favorite flower—Tulips. She brushed a finger over the maroon petals and grinned. Her heart swelled as she thought about the reason for her likeness. 

Chestnut eyes flashed through her mind. The love and appreciation that shone in those eyes brought a smile to her face. 

Eyes that belonged to a little poor girl. A girl whose mother was rescued from the clutches of sickness. A girl who despite her tender age knew and understood the importance of gratitude. 

That fateful day was so vivid in Paloma's mind she felt it was happening all over again. 

The day she got a bunch of tulips in place of payment for treatment. 

The conversation with the girl floated back to her. . .

                       ★★★★★

"We have no money to pay you. But we can pay you in other ways, can't we?" She stared up at Paloma with hope gleaming in her eyes. 

Paloma and the girl stood alone outside a rundown shack. 

Paloma's heart squeezed in pain at the situation. And all coherent words evaded her. 

She swallowed hard to clear the lump in her throat. "Well, maybe." She sent the girl an empathetic smile."Maybe there is another way." Her head tilted a little. However, her eyes fixated on something. "What do you have there?" She asked the girl as she noticed the girl's hands were behind her back. 

The girl shuffled on her feet and her eyes filled with hesitation. "Um. . . nothing. . .no,  I mean. . .will this be enough?" She slowly brought her hand forward and produced a bunch of yellow tulips. 

Paloma's eyes widened and her lips puckered. She gazed at the girl while she battled her loss of words. After a few beats of silence, a look of resignation formed on the girl's face and she began to redraw her hands. That brought Paloma to action. 

She snatched the bouquet."Of course, it will!" She cried.  "This is worth more than any amount of money," she said with a voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, darling. It's beautiful." She crouched to the girl's level and pulled her in for a hug. 

    "Thank you too for treating my Mummy. You are an angel, Miss Paloma." 

                 ★★★★★

 A pounding sound jolted her from her reverie. And she found herself back in the present. She still carried the empty watering can and her position in front of the tulips had not changed. She gently ran her hand over the leaves one more time and turned to go.

She ambled across the yard and kept the watering can. The grass ruffled as she walked towards the house. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she stalled. She pulled it out and stared at the blinking screen. Her lips produced a smile. Mariposa, her best friend, had sent her pictures from her recent vacation. 

Her fingers swiped across the screen as she flipped through the pictures of her friend in different outfits and poses. 

Suddenly, a notification popped up. 

Please update your device to the newest version. Otherwise, the system will stop functioning. 

Paloma gaped at the screen in bewilderment. How many times will she be told that? She wondered. Everyone seemed to be after her to get a new phone. With the upgrade in technology, her phone of two years seemed ancient in the eyes of her peers and strangers alike. 

She shook her head in dismay, turned off the screen, and pocketed the phone. Her skirt swished at her ankles as she resumed her trek. 

The pounding grew louder as she drew closer to the house. It was none other than her brother, Juan, pounding away on the figure he was molding with wood. 

"Good morning, bro!" She grinned and stopped in front of his work table. 

"Morning,  Hermanita!" He smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Hmph, stop calling me that!" She huffed. 

"Not gonna happen." He grinned. "Because you will always be my Lil sis." He winked. 

 "There is no point arguing with you." She shook her head. "Anyway, how's that going?" She nodded towards the wooden figure on the table. 

"It's going great!" He ran a palm over his handwork. "It will soon be ready for sale." He beamed with satisfaction.  

Paloma gazed at the wooden figure. A figure constructed from walnut to form a ballerina with one leg on a pedestal and the other in the air. Her hands were wide apart, parallel to each other. 

"You are a great sculptor." She smiled softly at him. 

"Thank you. And you are a beautiful apothecary, Hermanita." He reached over and ruffled her hair. 

"Stop!" She ducked away from his hand. However, she couldn't stop the cheerful smile that split on her face. 

"Never!" His shoulders shook from laughter.

"Anyway, I gotta go; catcha later." She rushed off before he could reply.

Her smile remained till she reached the house. However, her feet had barely touched the steps when her phone rang loudly from her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at the screen. It was an unknown number.

She shrugged and answered, "Hello, this is Paloma Jaramilo speaking.  How may I help you?" 

A frantic voice filled the phone. "Hello, this is Mrs. Duncan. My oldest is suffering from migraines and is running a temperature. Could you please come over now?" 

"Of course, I will be there as soon as I can." 

"Thank you so much," the woman replied with a mixture of relief and worry. And the call ended. 

Without sparing a minute, Paloma did a turn and raced into the shop. She ran to the corner and packed all the medical supplies she believed she would need. Without looking back she rushed out and headed towards her motorcycle parked under a shade by the house that also housed her younger brother's bicycle. 

With shaky fingers, she worked the key into its hole and turned it. The engine roared to life and with one push, Paloma was on her way. She sped past fellow drivers and pedestrians but all she could think about was the person who needed help. 

Her heart pounded in her chest and she offered a silent prayer for guidance and strength. Her body shook as the motorcycle crossed over a bump. After encountering a few more bumps, the road became smooth again. And she could see her destination in view. 

A few minutes later, she stopped the motorcycle and packed it properly. With utmost expertise, she leaped off the bike with her medical bag and charged towards the house. 

She marched towards a two-story building built with white oak. The huge windows were flung open to welcome the breeze in the atmosphere. Two doors stood proudly at opposite ends of the house. One led to the house and the other led to the gunsmith's shop operated by Mr. Duncan also known as Smith Gunn. 

Mr. Duncan was filled with different tales which he recited to everyone he came across. According to him, he claimed that as a child, one of his neighborhood aunties named him Smith. And the name spread throughout the neighborhood. In addition, when he grew up into a young man he got a gun which he never parted with much to the exasperation of everybody. So people tagged him "Smith with the gun". Hence, the name Smith Gunn. 

Her legs had just touched the porch steps when a male figure appeared and blocked her. And without sparing her a glance, he lunged down the steps. His broad shoulders brushed her and she almost lost her balance. She released a gasp and stalled. 

She couldn't help but turn and watch the man. Wisps of ebony hair fell down his forehead. And he hopped into a maroon truck. His every movement reeked of anxiety and fear. His eyes moved back and forth as though he was searching for something. He slammed the door shut, reversed,  and zoomed off. 

She couldn't stop herself from wondering why he seemed in a hurry to get out of there.

"Ah, Miss Paloma, you are here. Thank goodness!" A voice said from behind her. 

She turned and came face to face with Mrs. Duncan whose face was marred with a frown. 

"Ah, yes, morning, Mrs. Duncan. Who am I supposed to tend to," she said with total professionalism as she regained her composure. 

"Please come in. Miranda is in her room." The woman turned and headed inside. 

Paloma followed suit and stepped inside the house. She tucked all thoughts about the stranger into the back of her mind. Because it was time to treat the sick and not to worry about the anxieties of a stranger. 

                   ★★★★★

Yes, we are 5 chapters into the story. And it has been interesting to write. I hope it has been interesting to read too? XD

Anyway, now that we know the real name of Smith Gunn and the story behind the name, do you believe it?

And who do you think the stranger was? 🤔
I will like to know. So fill the comments section with your thoughts.

And one more question before we leave: What is/are your favorite flowers?

Mine is gardenia. I just love the fragrance😁

So don't forget to 👇

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Until next time, bloom like a flower 🌹 😁❤