Dawn opened its one good eye, the sun a flowerhead, the clouds its petals. If the pegasi really did base their weather on the mood of the town, then this morning Ponyville must’ve had a heck of a cheery get-up-and-go.
Lily’s newfound confidence was too good to last. On her way to work, she passed several gardens and felt the old urge to wince or go dizzy at their bent stems. She staggered once or twice.
That was the trouble with flowers. They weren’t usually built to last.
She also felt the weight of the book in her saddlebag. Yes, she’d checked it last night. This was definitely the one she’d seen years ago. Unfortunately, what seemed like a fool-proof idea under darkness looked pretty foolish beneath the light of day.
Turn the corner, walk down the street, turn again, and… there was the shop. A snapshot of a meadow, all greens and pinks. Petals hung from baskets outside.
Now for the door. Supposing it was still locked?
Lily glanced down the street on either side. No sign of Roseluck.
“OK.” She took several deep breaths. “Here we go.”
Her hoof rose to meet the woodwork.
It gave.
At once, Lily let out the breath she’d been holding. So far, so good. Carefully, she slipped inside.
Welcoming her back with open petals, the flowers showered her with delicious scents, stronger than coffee and fresher than fruit. Snowdrops bowed their heads in prayer, tulips burned under the sunlight, lilacs huddled together: all of them old friends.
No one was behind the counter, though.
Hoofsteps thumped down the stairs. Lily hurried over to the counter.
“Morning,” said Nurse Redheart, just before she thumped her last step at the bottom.
“Uh… morning?” Lily gulped. “Is everything… all right… up there?”
Nurse Redheart condemned her with a glance and a glare. “No need to work yourself up. Your friend asked if I could check in for a couple of minutes before I went to the hospital. I didn’t see why not. Noisy party kept me up most of the night, anyway. What’s a couple of minutes going to matter?”
“Oh.” Lily waited for last night’s power high to come kicking, yet nothing kicked. “Good. I guess.”
To her surprise, a smile crept across Nurse Redheart’s face. It was a child, briefly allowed outside by a mother otherwise addicted to quarantine, but a smile from Nurse Redheart was rarer than breezies in a bluebell.
“Daisy Flower Wishes will be perfectly fine. She’s seen some improvement, if your friend’s any judge.”
“My friend?”
“Flower Girl. Rose. You know, pale coat, pink mane?”
“Yeah.” Although in Lily’s mind, the sarcasm landed, she took one look at Redheart and determined to keep it there.
“I’ll tell you what I told her. Daisy knows what she needs to exercise. Don’t stress her out. Don’t pester her to do more than she can. She’ll naturally heal in her own time, so long as you’re patient.”
“Of course! I’m a flower pony! Patience is a must around plants.”
“Hm, and maybe plants are a must around patients,” said Nurse Redheart. She examined a nearby carnation as though to find fault with it. “Anyway, I can’t waste time yacking. There’s only so much I can do before I’ve had coffee for breakfast. Morning to you.”
She bustled out, a true bustler to the last.
When Lily turned to the counter, she noticed a collecting box for the first time. Someone had placed it beside the cash till. A red cross stood out on the white label, a symbol that screamed “medicine” to the most cursory of glances.
“That’s new?” she murmured.
Laughter came from upstairs.
It was followed by voices deep in keenly held conversation. Hoping her idea wasn’t a total bust, she crept up the stairs. Each creak that she nonetheless failed to stop did nothing to stop those voices.
She cocked an ear. Roseluck and Daisy, no doubt about it.
Lily pushed the door open. As she went in, she noticed the desk was free of flower pots and books. Thank goodness. She’d never liked those flytraps anyway.
“Morning Lily!” said Roseluck breathlessly from beside the bed.
Sitting upright on the bed was Daisy. To say she was smiling would be to undersell the full girth of her grin.
“Daisy!” said Lily without hesitation. “You’re… You’re looking well.”
Daisy threw off a mock salute with an utter lack of strain or effort. “Top of the morning to you, Lily! I feel well. Luna purged the system last night. I don’t even feel a smidgen of weight on my chest!”
Nerves and uncertainty kept Lily from jumping for joy. “Uh, good. Good.”
“OK,” said Roseluck, and she raised a notepad before transferring a pen to her mouth. “Anny-din elsh?”
“Just a couple more ideas,” said Daisy.
“Wait,” said Lily, “what’s this about?”
“Well, last night I was thinking.” Daisy threw back her curls and shrugged. “For instance, maybe a good way of drawing business might be to become more active in the community. So I had a word with Nurse Redheart about organizing a charity drive. Say, for foals in the hospital, or to support the staff?”
“Shee weawy wike dat one,” said Roseluck around the pen.
Lily thought about the collecting box downstairs. “I’ll bet. Um?”
A spit of the pen, which clattered on the floorboards, and Roseluck said, “Actually, since Lily’s here, I wouldn’t mind talking about the accounting –”
At this, Daisy leaned back against the bedrest and sighed. “All right. Fair’s fair. You can do it from now on. Officially.”
“Yay! Thanks, Daisy! You’re the best!” Roseluck’s squeak of excitement heralded the scratching of pen on paper.
“Hey, listen…” Lily tried again, the book heavy in her saddlebag.
“And I think it’s about time we put the marketplace stall to better use,” said Daisy. “You were right about that one, Lily. Pots and pans and whatever needed shifting? What was I thinking?”
“Not sure,” said Lily hastily, and she made to take off her saddlebag. “Look, it’s great you’re on top form again, Daisy, but could I get a second to –?”
“That’s the lot!” squeaked Roseluck with a clatter of the pen again. “Ooh, I can’t wait! This is going to be so good.”
“Sure,” said Daisy. “And while I’ve got your ear, I don’t suppose we could talk about Junebug’s –?”
“Daisy!” snapped Lily.
The other two stared at her. Before either could open their mouths in protest, Lily threw off her saddlebag and thrust both hooves deep into it.
More politely, Daisy shuffled along the bed towards her, head bowed. “Sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean to ignore you. What is it you wanted to say?”
Lily’s hooves came up. And, nestled between hooves and ergots, was a book.
Daisy’s polite inspection stopped. Beside her, Roseluck gasped.
“Um,” said Lily. “Ta da?”
Daisy reached for it, very carefully, as though it were a fragile flower.
“Is that…?” she whispered.
“Quickfix got it from your trash years ago. I was lucky she hadn’t already sold it yet. But I thought: well, I never found it around the place after we opened the shop. And sooner or later, where do unwanted things end up?”
Thump went the book onto the mattress. Smack went Lily’s hoof against the cover. She flicked through a few pages.
“Where is it, where is it?” she murmured under her breath. “See, I’d thought about getting it for a while. Last night seemed to be the right time.”
“But…” Guilt flickered painfully across Daisy’s face. “But I never showed you this.”
“Come on, Daisy. It’s me. I don’t wait for you to show me stuff. Plus, you have no imagination. You always hid it under the bed, even when you were a foal.”
Daisy looked up sharply.
“I never told anyone!” Lily forced an apology to stretch across her lips. “Eeee… except Rose, maybe? And anyway, you know I always search a place well before moving in. To be frank, you were dumb enough to put it under the bed here too before we opened the shop.” It occurred to Lily she wasn’t striking the right tone. “Um. Sorry about invading your privacy? Aheh.”
Sharp words threatened to cut across Daisy’s mouth. Then she sheathed them, lips tightening together. She looked down.
It was a picture. Of a flower. The petals looked like those of a mauve carnation, but there was no mistaking the image from her childhood.
“The Dream Lotus,” she whispered.
“I always knew,” said Lily soothingly. “I just didn’t want to say anything.”
Roseluck craned to see.
All three of them admired the Dream Lotus. A plant so impossible to manage, even for the most experienced gardeners, that to find and keep so much as one would instantly prove the sheer skill of any dedicated gardener.
Daisy eased a hoof across and slid the book shut. The cover read: “The Flutter Pony Tales for Little Fillies.”
For the longest time, all three of them read the title over and over, or they followed the vine-like decorations around the central picture, or they examined said picture of a spindly little pony-like creature and its butterfly wings. Lily hoped there wouldn’t be any crying.
Daisy sniffed. Once. As soon as Lily looked up, though, she was assured. No tears, not even threatening ones. If anything, Daisy beamed at her.
“You stupid, nosy little explorer,” Daisy said happily.
So far, so good. “What are friends for?” said Lily weakly.
Roseluck showed less restraint; a howl, a sniff, and she had to turn away.
“It was a good dream,” said Daisy, holding up the book.
“I know what it’s like,” said Lily. “Being an explorer sounds a lot more exciting when you’re stuck in school. Or when everyone calls you ‘Scaredy-Pants’.” Memory made her wince. “Especially then.”
“But I don’t understand,” wailed Roseluck, regaining herself enough to not quaver when she spoke. “Why did you throw it away? We wouldn’t have minded. There was no need to be ashamed of us!”
Daisy sighed and leaned back until she landed flat on the bed, her locks a cushion, her limbs useless in the air. She savoured some old memory.
“I’m not ashamed.” She shook her head, rolling it back and forth emphatically. “I never was. Maybe when I was younger, because I already knew it would’ve been silly to be famous or an adventurer, but when I bought the shop, I was old enough to get over that. Come on, who seriously worries about their best friends and their childhood dreams when they’re grown ponies?”
“Then what was it?” whispered Roseluck.
Lily didn’t hesitate. “You,” she said. “You were ashamed of you?”
Daisy closed her eyes. As she lay there, like she’d been spooked once again into fainting, the muscles tensed around her mouth. Her very face quivered under the effort.
Finally, she relaxed. “It’s silly, I know. But I wanted you to be proud of me too.”
“Oh, Daisy,” said Roseluck in a sigh. “We are proud of you.”
“I wanted to be the bravest one. Brave enough to go for that Dream Lotus and show you all. I wanted to inspire you with it. I don’t care what I was in Ponyville’s eyes, but what was I in yours?”
Mattress creaking beneath her shifting weight, Daisy rolled forwards and scooped up the book. Once more, she flicked open the pages. Lily moved round to peek, and was utterly unsurprised to see the petals again.
To the pages, Daisy said, wielding an extremely careful tone like a glass flower, “You’re as good as sisters to me. I never wanted to let you down. I owe you two so much.”
“Daisy…” Lily reached forwards and shut the book.
“I know it’s stupid, but it still gets to me. I never wanted –”
Roseluck put a hoof to Daisy’s lips. Shocked eyes looked down at the hoof, then across at her.
“Daisy,” said Roseluck gently. “You’re doing it again.”
Hoof left mouth. Daisy grinned by way of apology.
“All right,” she said. “No more sadness. We had some good times. Just give me a leg down, will you? I still feel stiff in parts.”
Lily watched uncertainly; despite Roseluck guiding the mare down, Daisy moved as though stricken by arthritis, every movement somehow shaky yet precise. Lily had enough presence of mind to open the door for them.
“All right!” said Daisy with more gusto. “Come on, girls. Let’s sell some flowers.”
“Right behind you –” Roseluck giggled “– Princess.”
Before following them, Lily glanced at the book on the bed. Fairy stories. Daisy – hard-headed, practical Daisy, who’d scrimped and saved for every inch of this building – had been into fairy stories. Briefly, she allowed herself to remember the sound of laughter, from three fillies in the meadows. An explorer, a scientist, and someone who’d secretly dreamed.
Sounded about right.
Smiling where they couldn’t see, she followed the other two down, carrying her first comfortable memory. Rarely in her life did she feel like she’d found the right ground for her. Somewhere to grow, perhaps even flourish. Or at least not to break into a sweat so long as company was around.