The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 206

Before the sun was fully up the next day, Annelise drove out in her used pickup truck.

The building materials market in the south was massive and chaotic. Tin-roofed stalls stretched out in endless rows, the ground littered with puddles of slush from last night's snow.

Pulling her navy-blue scarf tighter around her neck, she headed straight for the aisle selling ironwork.

The vendor selling the iron flower racks was a Norwegian man with a sprawling gray beard.

Annelise examined the racks one by one, feeling their weight and running her fingertips over the welding joints.

"This curve is too rigid," she pointed to one. "I need something softer. When I arrange the flowers on it, the rack shouldn't overpower their shape."

The old man didn't quite understand her concept of "overpowering the flowers' shape," but seeing how meticulous she was, he adopted a more serious attitude.

She picked out six iron racks and ordered a batch of heavy steel angles and bolts for support.

"Can these be delivered to the Old Town address this afternoon?" she asked in Norwegian.

"All the delivery trucks are booked for today." The old man spread his hands. "Tomorrow is the earliest."

"Then I'll take the lighter pieces with me now," Annelise said. "You can deliver the rest tomorrow."

She loaded three of the iron racks into her truck and went back for the bundle of steel angles.

The steel was incredibly heavy, the solid bundle weighing down her hands.

She squatted down, adjusted her posture, and was just about to lift it.

A hand reached out from the side, trying to grab the other end of the bundle.

"Let me."

The voice was hoarse, raspy, and carried the profound weakness of someone recovering from a severe illness.

Annelise froze.

She didn't look up, but she recognized that voice instantly.

It had been three years, but she would recognize him even if he turned to ash.

Hackett Lehman.

She had no idea how long he had been trailing her through this chaotic market.

He was even thinner than the last time she saw him in the rain. His cheekbones jutted out sharply, and his dark trench coat hung off his frame like an empty sack.

His hand was already gripping the bundle of steel, his knuckles white from the exertion.

As long as he could help her even a little bit, she would have to speak to him.

"Hackett," Annelise spoke again, enunciating every single syllable. "Put it down."

His hands shook even harder.

The bundle of steel slipped from his grasp, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud, splashing filthy snow water all over his pant leg.

He stood there in absolute misery, panting heavily, his face a ghastly shade of pale.

"Anne, listen to me," he took a step forward. "You're suffering too much alone over here. Buying a building, renovating, carrying these heavy things... none of this is work you should be doing."

"Let me help you," his voice trembled. "Just let me help you this once. I'll do all the heavy lifting."

Annelise looked at him in silence.

She stared at the man who had once despised the very idea of her stepping foot in a kitchen.

The man who had feared she'd dirty her hands, the Hackett Lehman who thought her stepping into a kitchen would cost him his dignity.

Now, he was standing in a filthy, puddle-ridden building materials market, bending over backwards to carry a load of steel for her.