Fragile(6)
Author: M. Leighton

“Oh my god, it’s so frickin’ hot!”

Miracle said nothing, simply followed him along the paver path, past the horticulture building. Hardy rounded the corner at the back of the brick structure and then veered left, continuing along the trail down a slight incline to an ancient greenhouse. He stopped a few feet in front of the door and swept his arm out in a grand and dramatic gesture.

“The ‘conservatory,’” he announced with a facetious flourish.

Removed from any other structure at the school, the greenhouse was constructed of wrought iron ribs with foggy, aged plexi-glass spanning the space between. The panes toward the top were cracked open to allow for the release of hot air, undoubtedly cooling the sweltering inside temperatures.

“The ‘conservatory’ is an old greenhouse?” Miracle asked, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“And that’s not even the best part,” Hardy declared, stepping forward to hold the door open for Miracle to enter.

“Oh, there’s more?” she asked, playing along in an excited voice.

“Think your heart can stand it?”

Miracle chuckled lightly and mumbled under her breath, “My heart’s not the problem.”

Hardy wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly, but again, he was loathe to ask her any personal questions. The image of her delicate face beneath a hairless scalp still circled the outskirts of his mind, making him uneasy broaching any sensitive subjects.

Letting the door close behind her, Hardy directed Miracle’s attention to the green foliage that lined the workbenches and multi-level shelves on the left and right.

“The horticulture classes use this to grow plants and play with soil composition and all that stuff. I don’t know much about it. It’s pretty boring,” Hardy said, moving slowly down the narrow walkway that cut through the center of the greenhouse. “There is one thing I think’s pretty cool, though.”

“What’s that?” Miracle asked, turning her head this way and that to check out every plant they passed.

For a moment, Hardy was silent, feeling a little bedazzled by the soft look of appreciation on her face. Glancing quickly toward the nondescript green plants he’d seen dozens of times, he wondered what she found so interesting, wondered what she was thinking of as she looked at the foliage.

“It’s back here,” he said quietly, turning to lead Miracle around the only corner in the greenhouse.

A small addition had been constructed off to one side of the structure. The glass was clearer and the temperature was slightly warmer in the tiny wing. The facilities were discernibly newer and more high-tech, too. Those were the things Hardy noticed normally and was prepared to comment on.

But not today. Today, he was only aware of the girl in front of him and the expression of wonder she wore. For the first time, he thought he might be seeing what she saw.

Orchids of every shade and hue lined the metal benches on either side of the walkway. Compared to the fairly monotone view in the larger room, this one looked alive with color, with life. The floral scents of the different orchids mingled, giving the air a sweet, seductive smell he’d never noticed before.

But the most incredible thing of all was Miracle. Her green eyes were round with amazement and her pouty lips were slightly parted in awe. She moved her head slowly, taking in every detail it seemed.

Compelled to photograph nature in a way he never had been before, Hardy quietly unzipped his bag and removed his camera. After he flipped off the lens cover and snapped a couple shots of the beautiful flowers, Hardy found himself focusing on a view of a different kind. A face—Miracle’s.

The bright afternoon sun poured onto the top of her head. As she bent forward, cupping the delicate blossom of a deep purple orchid and burying her nose in the center of its petals, her face fell into shadow. Through the lens of his camera, Hardy saw her eyes drift closed as she inhaled. He was captivated. He took pictures as she sampled the delightful aromas of several different orchids. Each time she raised her head, he fell a little more in love with the sweetly sad smile that seemed ever present.

Finally, Miracle turned to Hardy, tilting her head to one side as if to say you’re in trouble, mister! Hardy smiled, snapping photos for action shots as she smirked and shook her head.

“I don’t remember telling you it was all right to take my picture,” she scolded gently.

“Price of the tour, ma’am. Price of the tour,” Hardy said from behind his camera.

“Is this why the ‘conservatory,’” she said, holding up her fingers for air quotes as he had done, “is included in the photography class tour?”

Hardy lowered his camera.

“Actually, it sort of is. Mr. Gault talked them into letting us use this for some of our course requirements. The light is so great, and the colors, back here especially. Plus, when it rains, it’s hard to go outside and take pictures, and that’s what one of our main focuses is this year—nature.”

“Well,” Miracle said, looking up into the sun as she turned a complete circle. “There is definitely some very nice nature in here.”

“That’s exactly what I was just thinking,” Hardy murmured bemusedly.

Miracle’s head dropped back into place and her eyes locked with his. For a few tense seconds she didn’t say or do anything. Her expression was simply blank.

But then, slowly, as though someone were painting them with brushstrokes from Heaven, her cheeks blossomed with color and she smiled again. Hardy was positive he’d never seen anything more haunting than her smile. It was radiant. It was breathtaking. And it was heartbreaking.

Or heartbroken.

CHAPTER THREE

“What are those?” Miracle asked hurriedly, as if anxious to change the subject. Her eyes had shifted and she was looking past Hardy to the end of the short addition, to the back wall where a row of pots lined a single shelf there. The flowers emerging from them looked quite different than the other orchids.

“I think they are night-blooming orchids. The bloom only opens at night and then closes back up during the day.”

“That’s amazing!” she exclaimed, slipping past Hardy to further investigate the unassuming-looking flower. As she passed, a light scent wafted up to envelop him. Unable to stop himself, Hardy inhaled. Lavender. Somehow, the delicate aroma suited Miracle perfectly.

“I love flowers almost as much as I love photography,” Miracle mused softly, running a finger down one green leaf. “There are few things that make me happier.” Hardy noticed that, as she spoke, Miracle absently stroked the small black camera bag that hung at her left side.