Mini-Story~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I'm sorry this is late, Mam, but this is for you... For Saint Valentine's Day" The gruff voice was low and hesitant. Adelle started slightly at the sound. She had paused in her endless toil at the sewing machine to tend to little Alice and her half-hour younger brother Thomas. She turned in her seat. "Who..?" Her voice trailed off at the sight of the rose swaying in the grip of the rough and calloused hand that held it still glistening with dew, from beyond the draperies that edged the door into the foyer. The Rose seemed to glow with a light of it's own as, unbidden, her own hand reached unsteadily to cup the bloom. "It, it's so lovely....Thank you, Sir.... So, s-so beautiful..... " Her soft, whisper, nearly inaudible, trailed away as her voice failed her completely. She drew the Rose to her face, closing her eyes, inhaling slowly and deeply to fill her lungs with it's fragrance. Caring for the twins and the long hours of sewing required to earn enough to keep them fed and clothed since her husband's death nearly a year ago had slowly numbed and eroded parts of her spirit so completely she'd forgotten what it felt like to feel truly feminine. She felt tears on her flushed cheeks as she rose with sudden resolve to her feet and moved to see who her kind visitor was. "You must for give me, Sir. I was momentarily overcome with the beauty of your gift..." As she drew aside the drape and stepped beyond, her voice trailed again, as she saw the empty foyer beyond. "A fine, perfect moment." thought Robert. He silently pulled the door closed behind and stepped off the stoop and onto the path leading back to the churchyard. A rough, taciturn man living alone on his soldiers pension in a cottage two estates over, he had been tending plants in his small greenhouse that morning and saw that the single bud he had first seen days before had finally bloomed into a perfect scarlet rose. He found himself, a short while later, freshly scrubbed, and donning his old regimental dress kilt. Pausing only to pick the rose, he set his foot on the path to the old church, and beyond, the parsonage where the parson's widowed niece had come to stay. The door stood open. Stepping into the cool shadows within, he realized it was a day late for Valentine's day, and he head no idea what to say or what to do. The noise of a treadle sewing machine in the sitting room a few steps away stopped, to be replaced by a low wordless croon, and a slender hand was suddenly visible beyond the door, rocking the cradle there. Feeling suddenly lost, he nearly turned on his heel, but instead stepped silently nearly to the doorway, and thrust the rose within the room. He never remembered what words he spoke, but the catch in her voice as she whispered her thanks was instantly branded into his memory. He backed the four steps to the door, turning as he stepped outside. "Aye, a perfect moment, - she's got the rose as I wanted, and this way it's like the world give her a gift, not just some feller, and I don't think I will ever feel so wonderful as when I heard her voice when she whispered thank you. Never so happy again in my life." He was halfway back to the churchyard when she caught up to him and proved him wrong. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ...figured it needed a quick storyline :-)) Nearly pure Poser. 10 minutes of post-work with dodge-and-burn to add shadows, fix arm bends, and crop. Credits Mic, VIC, MilBaby, rose, 1890s dress, Mansion Great Room from DAZ Highlander Mic from MP Victorian Foyer from 3DC Cat siamese tex by Lyrra Bowler, Piano, and misc props from PoserWorld Clutter, props, poses, expressions, and some textures from here and there, this and that, and me.