You Make My Heart Bloom

The unified school district was so small – just two elementaries, a middle school, and a high school – that most of its ancillary departments at the central office shared a single large space. Payroll, Accounts Payable, Purchasing, and Food Services all occupied separate desks on one side, while the half-dozen or so staff who made up IT and M&O had the area across from them; IT was in the front and M&O at the rear where a door opened onto a fenced lot housing their equipment and vehicles.

Donna had handled the district’s Accounts Payable responsibilities for nearly thirty years.  She matriculated through her own K-12 student career in the district, studied bookkeeping at a technical college, then started at the same desk that was now as familiar to her as the home she’d inherited from her parents after their deaths. She lived alone there, spent her free time walking dogs after work for the local animal shelter, knitting items for a hospital gift shop, and watching Masterpiece shows on public television in the evenings. There’d been only one occasion on which she’d dated anyone for more than a month – a plumber she eventually discovered was already engaged – so outside of an occasional TGIF with work colleagues, she had virtually no social life. She was plain but pleasant-looking, quiet by nature, and dressed modestly to hide the extra ten pounds she’d all but given up trying to lose.

Marshall had begun with the IT Department at the beginning of the current school year, and Donna had been drawn to him right away. He was about her age, even more reserved than she was, carried a few extra pounds of his own, and had a habit of pushing his black plastic glasses up on his nose in a self-depreciating manner she found endearing. The office scuttlebutt was that he had last worked repairing computers for a chain electronics store in a larger town nearby, lived there alone with his mother who he cared for while in the early stages of dementia, and played a lot of online chess.

Donna contrived sporadic opportunities to try to engage Marshall in conversation – sitting near him for lunch in the staff lounge, bogus work orders she’d submit for a minor glitches with her computer, an IT invoice now and then about which she concocted needless questions – but his responses were always as brief as possible and seemed almost painfully self-conscious. This last impression was legitimate because Marshall was also attracted to Donna, especially her reticent manner and a kind gentleness to her countenance that reminded him of a younger version of his mother. This, coupled with his natural shyness and timidity, rendered him all but inarticulate when in her presence, and he ended those encounters quickly so as not to make a stammering fool of himself. Despite these obstacles, they often found themselves stealing glances at each other across the thirty or so feet that separated their workstations.

Cecilia, who had long been Purchasing Clerk at the desk next to Donna’s, served as the office’s self-appointed social chairperson.  She organized birthday cake celebrations, put up holiday decorations, and coordinated their infrequent TGs, one of which was upcoming that afternoon.

As casually as possible, Donna asked her who she expected to attend.

“Oh, the usual crowd.” Cecilia used her fingers to count. “Most of M&O, us clerical gals, a couple techies, and my husband’s joining us again.” 

Donna lowered her voice and said, “What about Marshall?”

“Marshall?” Cecilia’s voice fell, too. “No, he said he’d be busy with his mother.”  She narrowed her eyes. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Bet that would change his mind.”

Donna felt a blush creep up behind her ears. She shifted her weight in her seat.

Cecilia gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t think I haven’t seen your sneaky peeks at him the past two months. And those bogus work orders …come on.”

Donna felt herself withering under Cecila’s good-natured gaze. She blew out a long breath and said, “Well, none of it is doing any good. Not a bit. He just mumbles something indecipherable whenever I try to talk to him, looks distressed, and bolts.”

“Better get creative then. ” Cecilia’s crease of a smile hinted at encouragement. “And he seems nice, by the way. Worth the trouble.”

For Donna to call Cecilia a true friend would have been a stretch, but she was as close to one as she had. She sighed again, looked away, and nodded. Glimpsing Marshall across the room where he sat tapping at his keyboard, she thought: You’re right.

Marshall pretended not to notice her glance and swallowed hard.

~

Donna thought more about things that evening, considering options. She seized upon an idea lying awake in the middle of the night, but waited until the following Monday when Cecilia began a two-week vacation to avoid her scrutiny before putting it into action. Donna placed an order online before anyone else had arrived that morning, and was so absorbed in a complicated spreadsheet a few hours after lunch that she didn’t hear the receptionist in the lobby direct the delivery man her way.  However, the rest of the office, followed his procession to Donna’s desk where he presented her with the bouquet of red roses he carried. She clapped her palm to her chest and feigned delighted surprise. The delivery man turned on his heels and left as she brought the flowers to her nose, inhaled deeply, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was aware of the stares from all corners of the workspace, but concentrated on opening the small card attached to the plastic wand in the bouquet’s center. She let her eyes travel over the brief message she’d included with the order, smiled serenely, and sighed.

“Lovely,” the Food Services Director announced from her desk several feet away.

The Payroll Clerk at the adjacent desk raised her eyebrows and said, “Indeed.”

In the corner of her vision, Donna could see Marshall regarding her from his own desk.  His hands had gone still on his keyboard, his face stricken, and her heart both fell and leapt.

~

Shortly afterward, Marshall was grateful to be called out of the office to troubleshoot a complex server problem at the middle school. He drove home directly from there, fixed dinner, and patiently situated his mother in her bed, with reminders about how to work the television remote. Finally finished, he sat with his laptop on the living room couch, toggling between two suspended online chess matches. He couldn’t concentrate on either, and resigned both in short fashion. He kept picturing Donna’s reaction when she’d received the bouquet and her buoyant face as she’d read its card. Somehow up to then, he’d expected that she might be as lonely as  him. He’d even permitted himself to imagine scenarios like bumping into her unexpectedly at a café and sharing a table over coffee. But, as unlikely as those might have been, any prospect of the sort now seemed permanently dashed.  She’d received a dozen long-stemmed red roses and a card causing that smile – not the sort of gift sent by a friend or family member, but one born of much greater emotion, and affection. Marshall squeezed his eyes shut tight until his mother’s voice interrupted his tortured reverie calling for him to move her walker closer to her bedside.

~

Early the following morning, Donna placed another order, expecting it to arrive later that day having chosen same-day shipping… The subsequent delivery choreography repeated itself that afternoon with the receptionist in the lobby, and the package arriving at her desk along with the steady gazes of her office colleagues.  Keyboard tapping and paper shuffling ceased until the Payroll Clerk asked, “Well, are you going to open that or not?”

Donna gave an exaggerated shrug, tore open the box, and removed a trademark Amazon gift bag, shimmery and purple. She smiled over the attached card, loosened the tied ribbon, and lifted out a lavender bath set of salts, soap, scented candle, and body lotion clustered together in a miniature claw-footed bathtub.  She went through the same ritual of smelling the package, closing her eyes, and sighing as she had with the bouquet that was now arranged artfully in its glass vase next to her IP Phone.

“Nice,” the Food Services Director said.

The Payroll Clerk cooed, “Someone has an admirer.”

Donna heard Marshall’s desk chair roll back with a screech, his footsteps leading off down the hallway, and out the door to the parking lot. 

Two hours later, and unbeknownst to one another, Donna and Marshall were walking five miles apart along sections of the river near their houses. Both alone in the moment, tossing pebbles out onto the water.

~

Donna waited until Thursday morning before arriving early again at the office and placing her next Amazon order. The package was delivered shortly after lunchtime, and all eyes were on her again as she lifted out another shimmery gift bag. She removed a small box from inside, took off the lid, and draped the thin, gold necklace it held over her hand.  A heart-shaped locket dangled from its center.  

Marshall sucked in a silent breath. The Food Services Director began a slow clap, to which Donna affected an embarrassed shrug and smile.

The Payroll Clerk asked, “What are your favorite chocolates?”

Donna frowned. “Truffles, I guess.”

“Those will be next,” the Payroll Clerk announced.  “Mark my words.”

The Food Services Director barked a laugh, and in spite of herself, a sheepish grin escaped Donna. Marshall bit down on the inside of his cheek and typed gibberish on his screen.

Donna was wearing the necklace when she carried documents into the copy room a little later while Marshall finished using the copier. He felt himself stiffen as she entered.

“All done?” Donna asked.

He nodded once.

“Did you happen to see that work order I sent about my computer running slow?”

Another nod followed.

“When do you think you can see about fixing it?”

He muttered, “Soon.”  

“I’ll be gone to a meeting at the high school for the rest of the afternoon, so away from my desk.” She touched the necklace. “If that’s convenient for you, I mean.”

The locket was perhaps a half-inch in diameter; Marshall wasn’t sure if that was big enough for an inscription or not. Her eyes, he noticed for the first time, were gray-blue and held a yearning he recognized from those that stared back at him from within the mirror. He gave a last short nod before hurrying back to their workspace.

~

It was after five o’clock before Marshall made his way to Donna’s desk. . He noticed labeled files organized neatly in both in-out trays, and a stack of manuals arranged by height between two river-smooth speckled rocks.  A single, tiny photo stood beside them in a tarnished frame: an old black-and-white of a young girl standing between her parents in front of a clapboard house.

The bath set and necklace were gone, but the roses still stood next to the manuals, the buds now opened, beginning to curl and darken slightly at the edges. The card that had been replaced in its plastic wand read: “You Make My Heart Bloom.” Several long moments passed while Marshall’s own heart tumbled. Eventually, he shook his head, clenched his jaw, and pushed down on the space bar of Donna’s keyboard, the screen now displaying her email inbox. Without thinking, he scanned the message subjects and noticed that the first one that morning was an Amazon order confirmation. His forehead furrowed as he clicked on it, then his eyes widened when he saw that it was for a necklace with a heart-shaped locket. A chill bloomed between his shoulder blades, and before he could stop himself, he had quickly scrolled down further to find similar order confirmations for the bath set and flowers earlier in the week. He leaned back in Donna’s chair and sat staring hard at the screen.

Marshall’s eyes traveled to the roses, then the framed photograph. To no one, he whispered, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

He sat there without moving for a while before shaking his head again and running the troubleshooting command on Donna’s 

computer.  He located the trivial technical problem, quickly fixed it, then sat back and thought more, his fingertips laced over the mound of his belly. He lifted the photo off Donna’s desk, brushed dust off its glass, and studied it. He smiled, then stood suddenly, paused at his own computer to enter and submit her work order as complete, and departed the office himself.

The brief stop Marshall made at a strip mall near his house slightly delayed his arrival home. He was still able to get dinner prepared only a little later than usual, which his mother didn’t seem to notice at all. After he cleared away their dishes, he took the small white box he’d bought from the refrigerator and set it down in front of her at the table. She stared from it to him blankly before asking, “What’s that?”

“A little treat.”

“A what?”

He knew she would have trouble with the box’s lid, so he opened it for her and moved it closer so she could see the three chocolate-covered strawberries inside. She looked up at him with confused, darting eyes.  

“You used to love those,” he told her.

“I did?”

“Dad gave them to you on special occasions.”

“Who?”

“Dad.  Your husband.”

“Earl?”

Marshall nodded reassuringly.  “Try one.”

Tentatively, she lifted the smallest from the box, turned it this way and that, then bit the chocolate-covered tip.  Her eyes brightened. “I used to love these,” she said.

Marshall rubbed his mother’s back and kissed the top of her head through her cotton-candy helmet of hair.

At about the same time, Donna had returned from her dog walking to an empty, dark house that was so quiet it seemed to scream. She turned on unnecessary lamps for the modicum of light-filled warmth they provided, boiled water for tea, and microwaved a frozen dinner. When both were ready, she ate on a tray table in front of the television and felt mild relief to find one of her favorite Victorian period shows playing. But her mind wandered as she picked at her food and tried to focus on the storyline. She wondered if Marshall had fixed her computer and what he might have thought sitting at her desk. She wondered what he was doing just then; helping his mother, she supposed, or playing chess with someone across the country while she sat alone. Donna fingered the necklace’s locket again, a burgeoning nervous habit.  She’d already returned the bath set but hadn’t yet determined what to do with the necklace. She had thirty days to decide, so there wasn’t any rush. A stiff breeze rattled the front window, and it began to rain.

~

It was still raining steadily the next morning.  No one else was in the office when Marshall got there early. He leaned his unfolded umbrella behind his desk to dry, made his furtive stop at Donna’s desk, then walked quickly down the hallway to the staff lounge.  

Muffled clicks from the wall clock’s second hand were the only sounds in that workspace until Donna entered a few minutes later.  She hung her raincoat on one of the pegs along the wall and sat down at her desk, but it wasn’t until she’d tapped her computer’s space bar to power it up that she noticed the flat white box in front of her framed photo. She jerked straight in response, scanned the vacant room, and finally lifted the box onto her lap. Very slowly, she opened the lid. A sweet fragrance greeted her first before she saw the assortment of truffles arranged neatly in their crinkled, paper cups. A wondrous warmth spread through her.  No card accompanied the gift, so she rapidly surveyed the room again and saw Marshall’s umbrella handle poking up behind his desk. Her eyes traveled next to her computer screen where the first unopened message on her email was his confirmation of her completed IT work order request with its time and date from late the previous afternoon.

Steps approached in the hallway, then Marshall appeared in the open doorway clutching a steaming mug. He stopped in his tracks and looked from the opened box on Donna’s lap to her face. She returned his gaze. The corners of his mouth raised. Hers did the same, and in a manner that for the first time suggested to him that his discovering those email messages might just have been Donna’s intention all along. But in that moment, there was yearning and hope in her eyes, as he knew there was in his.