Hit up the link list on the right to read my latest one-shot, Language of Flowers. It's sure to bring the warm fuzzies! (:
Renesmee expertly placed the buds in a pattern that would look beautiful when they bloomed. Esme sat back as Nessie took each bud from its plastic container with the gentleness of a butterfly; she inspected it before placing it in the small hole and smearing dirt around it. She didn’t have the strength of the rest of her family, yet there she was, treating the flowers with an overly-delicate touch. Like they were all precious living things. Esme was astounded. She knew Nessie wasn’t like other children, she was surprisingly smart and compassionate, but watching her handle the buds made Esme really see the young girl.
